My small nod is enough to make Will snap from his daze and pull her into his arms. He mumbles stuff from their past in her ear. I try not to listen in order to give him some semblance of privacy. After a few minutes, she blinks a few times. “Will? Am I dead?” She asks in a hushed tone that brings tears down Will’s cheeks. “No, no, you're alive. I’m so sorry I didn’t find you sooner,” He mumbles out before giving us a short introduction. We force a small amount of water down her throat before Will hoists his sister up onto his back since she can barely keep her eyes open let alone walk.

“Will,” I let out with unease. I see something moving before us, slithering and contorting in the distance. The letter P. Then it hits me. “Phantasmagoria,” I let out louder than I meant to. Will gives me a confused stare. “T-that's the Word! It was in a picture in my classroom during the illusion. I remember thinking I hadn’t bought it. It means like a bunch of illusions in a dream.”  His eyes go wide at my revelation. “There was a picture frame on the mantle with that word. I asked Sarah about it. She said her mom must have given it to us.”  We both stare at each other, not knowing if we should be thrilled or terrified. But it’s too late to be skeptical now, I already said it aloud.

Upon hearing its name, the construct amalgamates before us. All 200 bodies around us begin to move towards the monster that is slowly creeping towards us into the light. The creaking of melding flesh and snapping bone fills the silence of the warehouse as the corpses bind to each letter that constructs the Word. When each letter is fused with several human bodies, they move together. The letters reshape themselves until they are in no particular order, appearing as one overly exaggerated human construct. Its gangly mouth opens in a wide, sinister smile. “Mr. Illia, welcome home,”  It calls out in a perfect recreation of Ellie’s voice. My anger begins to bubble under my skin. I should be terrified, and yet I can’t feel anything but disgust. “Will darling, come here?” It calls out in an unfamiliar female voice. I can tell the voice belongs to Sarah from Will’s contorted expression of anger and loss. 

“Will,”  I say once again, my voice stern as I glare at the monster. “I have a plan.”  My grip tightens around the pencil in my hand.