Henry let out a squeak.

Both boys jumped to their feet. They Both boys lurched to their feet, stumbling together until they stood shoulder to shoulder.

"It's you!" Dalia stammered. "Please... leave us alone!"

"I can't do that, dear." The voice was almost gentle. "You don't belong here. Besides..." A soft chuckle followed. "Don't you want to go home?"

“No!” Dalia shouted.

“No?” the intruder echoed with bemused amusement.

Rook judged the voice to be closer to Dalia than to himself, but his traitorous body refused to move. An unfamiliar, primordial fear within him had taken over at the overwhelming sense of power and ancientness pressed against the room. As he drew in a stuttering breath, the scent of dead leaves and ginger flooded his senses.

"You've felt it," the intruder continued. "That emptiness whenever you're no longer distracted by this world's little amusements. The headache that's always on the verge of beginning. They're symptoms. This world was never meant for you."

Dalia tried to interrupt.

He spoke over her without pause.

"You weren't born here. The people raising you aren't your real parents. Your concern"—his voice softened—"your loyalty... for your adoptive family is admirable. But you will never truly be happy, never truly feel whole, until you're in the world where you belong."

Was it possible for pure black to get any darker?

Rook’s breath caught.

The depth of darkness in Dalia’s direction seemed to pulsate.

Dangerous. Unnatural. They needed to run.

Run.

RUN!

Rook forced one foot forward, but immediately faltered. Simply the thought of blindly running into this being nearly made his legs buckle.

"Dalia..." His whisper came out as a panicked hiss. "Get closer to us."

The intruder tutted patronisingly.

"You think she's safer standing beside you? You're coming too, Rook."

A deeper chill settled over him.

“You must feel an even stronger sense of hollowness than her,” the intruder continued. “Isn’t it fascinating how humans adore wild babies outside their species? Cute appearances, I suppose. Then they—you grow up. Even if the humans here can’t place their finger on it with you, their innate fear has them react: avoidance and neglect. If you remain here…” His voice slowed to a thoughtful cadence. “That hollowness in you will mesh with the darker side of your nature and turn destructive. Whether on oneself or others…”

The cadence was so deliberate that Rook could almost picture him weighing each possibility in his hands.

A trembling sneer crossed Rook’s lips.

Yes, his parents barely acknowledged he existed anymore. He clung to his handful of friends like they were a lifeline. And no matter how hard he tried—

Everyone struggles. I’m not unique. Even if some days I feel… so alone. I’m resilient. I know I’ll pull through.

Rook lifted his chin.

"You're not taking us anywhere," he spat through his teeth. Somehow, his voice sounded steadier than he felt, but he knew that yelling wasn’t going to help. Henry’s parents still hadn’t come after Dalia’s scream. If he could keep this thing focused on him, maybe Dalia could make it to the stairs.

Drawing a slow breath, Rook squared his shoulders and continued, “Why should we trust the words of a coward hiding in the dark? The dramatics, playing on our fears; nothing but tactics used by pathetic liars. You won’t have us.”

"Really?" the intruder mused, his voice suddenly sounding directly behind him. "Are you going to stop me?"

Fingernails lightly traced the nape of Rook's neck. A guttural growl tore from his throat as he flinched away, lashing out with one hand.

Nothing.

The intruder spoke again from across the room.

"Oh, Dalia... sweet treasure. I'd grown rather fond of you. I even gave you a warning—a chance to settle your affairs before your journey. Yet the most you accomplished was riling up this beast." He sighed. "In hindsight, I misplaced my expectations."

Rook hurled his controller towards the voice. The darkness pulsed and the cheap plastic hit the wall.

"Get out of my house!" Henry shouted, his voice climbing several octaves.

“I will oblige as soon as I have what I came for.”

Darkness shifted behind the couch.

Rook spun. His legs finally obeyed him, though they trembled beneath his weight. He raked his fingers blindly through the air behind the couch. Empty.

A breath ghosted across his temple, carrying the overpowering scent of dead leaves.

“Missed.”

Rook jerked away, slashing through empty air with clawed fingers.

"Even with your dulled senses, you're not half bad," the intruder goaded from afar. "Far better than the high elf, who stood frozen, or the dwarf, who hid beneath a bed. A bed!” He chuckled. “What protection was that supposed to offer? Now, enough chit chat. It’s time for business.”

Dalia released a scream of pure terror.

Rook's heart leapt into his throat as her body slammed into something with a crash.

“Dalia!” Henry cried. He stumbled blindly in her direction, only to trip over the coffee table.

Rook vaulted over it, suddenly grateful for every night he'd spent sleeping on Henry's couch. He knew this room well enough to cross it in the dark.

The darkness throbbed. Silence struck like a physical blow.

Rook stumbled and dropped to his knees, clutching his head.

Where was he, again?

Who was sniffling beside him?

Rook blinked dazedly as the fugue dissipated. The deep darkness—and the intruder—were gone.

Upstairs, Mrs. Jones’ television could be heard once more through the basement stairs’ door. A ribbon of light shone beneath it. Enough for Rook’s eyes to notice details.

“Dalia?”

His voice cracked.

Then the smell hit him.

Blood.

He whipped his gaze in Dalia’s direction. Ten bloody furrows scarred the carpet, stretching from where Dalia had been standing to the far wall.

White knuckled, Rook hauled Henry to his feet. His friend swayed, unable to straighten as he clutched his rapidly swelling knee.

“Upstairs!” Rook snapped. “How could your parents not have heard us? We need them! Now, Henry!”

Poorly restrained sobs racked Henry’s throat.

“Y-You don’t think he attacked them first, do you?”

Limping badly, Henry lurched towards the stairs, repeatedly glancing back to make sure Rook was following at his heels.

As they started up the steps, Rook’s shoulders tightened. The smell of dead leaves again. Just a hint, but his imagination conjured a towering wave of darkness surging up behind them.

Faster!

Throat too tight to speak, he shoved Henry to speed him up. Henry stumbled, causing a jolt of panic to rip through Rook.

Then, a cold, sleeved arm snaked around Rook’s face, the crook of someone’s elbow clamping over his mouth and muffling his terrified cry. A whisper brushed his ear.

“Next.”

Rook reached desperately for Henry. His fingertips barely grazed the back of his friend’s shirt before another arm wrapped around his chest, dragging him back against a solid body.

And into the deep dark.