The light above flickered erratically, casting a moment of darkness within the Mystic Relics shop. As the light steadied, the air seemed thick with tension. A low hum echoed off the dusty shelves, punctuated by the rhythmic drumming of Zayn's fingers on the wooden counter. His amethyst eyes locked onto Idris' emerald ones in a display of young sibling rivalry.

Zayn, clad in a crisply tailored white shirt and sleek beige pants, smoothly reached into the drawer, seizing a piece of paper with an air of practiced professionalism. This poised demeanor sharply contrasted with Idris, whose striking black jacket and pants were overshadowed by his brown, flamboyant, curly pompadour.

Zayn's fingers trembled slightly as he brandished a flyer. It proclaimed, 'Summon the shadows with sorcery here at Mystic Relics,' featuring a demon garbed in a top hat and trench coat, its sinister grin hidden beneath a twirling mustache, almost mocking the viewer. 

"Care to explain this?"

A smirk played at the corners of Idris' lips, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, that? Just stirring the pot a bit. Place needs some life, ya know?" Idris said, barely containing a chuckle.

Zayn's brow furrowed, and he let out a heavy sigh, his gaze shifting away from Idris. "Idris, this isn't a game," he muttered under his breath, the annoyance clear in his tone.

Idris leaned against the doorway. The side of his lips curved into a cocky grin. "Lighten up, Zayn. It's just a little buzz for the shop. We need to adapt, not just stick to old ways."

"And how's that working out for us?"

Idris shrugged, "Patience, Z. It's all about the long game. Rome wasn't built overnight, right?"

As Zayn eyed the flyer, a shadow of concern crossed his features. "Remember the Alexians? They'll stop helping us if they catch wind of this... stunt."

"We can't depend on those old ties forever. It's time we shook things up a bit, Z." Idris shot back.

Zayn's eyes narrowed, a sharp edge creeping into his voice as he leaned forward. "We know the rules, Idris. And the stakes."

"You're beginning to remind me of unc," Idris said, his words poised with venom as a singular vein appeared from his forehead. Zayn raised his palms. "Alright, I get it. Calm down."

He slammed a hand against the counter, the sound sharp—the nearby artifacts began to wobble. "We chose this place for freedom, not to mirror old ghosts," Idris shouted. A jar filled with water tumbled to the ground. The water and glass scattered, leaving a mess. His voice dropped to a murmur. "Look, once we make it, we'll be free. That's all that matters." 

Zayn dropped to his knees, picking up the pieces of glass. "Since when was it about the money? Hasn't it been about banishing demons?"

Idris leaned closer, his tone laced with a mix of sarcasm and seriousness. "Like Dad, right? Chasing after shadows, and what did he get for it? Just saying, Zayn, sometimes the old ways aren't the best ways."

Zayn continued cleaning up the mess until he paused. He felt it—a searing heat creeping up his spine. He turned, scanning the shop, his focus narrowing. Idris was still talking, something about customers and prospects, but his words were fading into the background.

It wasn't just the shop that had gone silent; it was as if the air had stilled, waiting.

Idris continued, unaware, "—and I mean, it's not like—"

Zayn wasn't listening anymore. His eyes were wide, fixed on something only he could sense.

Idris stopped, finally noticing. "Hey, Zayn, you alright?" he said with an air of concern.

The lights went out, the shop plunging into darkness.

"Dude, the bulbs? I swear I just swapped 'em," Idris' confusion was palpable in the dense air.

"It's not the bulbs..." Zayn's voice dropped to a murmur, laced with a threat only he could sense. "We're not alone. Something's approaching, something malevolent."

The slight tremor in his stance betrayed Idris' attempt at a tough front. "Bout time for a little excitement, huh?"

Zayn maintained a protective stance, his assurance steady. The shop is protected; no demon has an entry here."

Yet, as if on cue, the door creaked ajar, and the bell's chime starkly contradicted Zayn's claim. As the lights flickered back to life, they revealed a dark figure looming in the doorway. 

With the door open, a gust of wind playfully tousled Zayn's raven locks, his curly man bun swaying rhythmically with the breeze.

As the figure stepped into the light, it appeared to be an innocent young girl in a schoolgirl uniform. However, as Zayn took a closer look, he noticed her ruffled hair, which cascaded down to her shoulders, but it was her eyes that caused his hair to stand. They were devoid of any life. When Zayn gazed deeply into them, he could sense something malicious from within.

Zayn didn't know whether he was staring at a human or a demon, but regardless, he could feel an evil aura coming off her. He raised his fists, and his eyes analyzed her movements.

"Hey, Zayn, I know her," Idris whispered. Zayn's head snapped to his brother. "What!"

"Mia? Is that you?" Idris asked. She seemed weak but managed to nod her head and trudged her way toward them.

Zayn's brow furrowed as he watched Mia's halting steps, her frame shuddering with each labored breath. "Idris," he called out, his voice steady despite the churn of his thoughts, "her aura's flickering, not fully turned. The possession didn't hold." Suddenly, she slipped on the previous mess caused by Idris, heading for the ground, but Zayn caught her. 

As Zayn scooped Mia into his arms, his hands recoiled slightly at the feverish heat radiating from her skin. He observed the faint, unnatural glow under her pallid complexion, a lingering shadow of the demon's touch. With deliberate gentleness, he eased her onto the floor. 

"The demon... it seems to have lost its grip when she entered our shop," he whispered, half to himself, half to Idris.

Idris watched, a frown creasing his forehead. "What does that mean for her?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

Zayn paused, checking her pulse. "She's not possessed. We only need to cleanse the lingering aura," he said thoughtfully.

He glanced up at Idris, his expression shifting to one of urgency. "Idris, we need the sacred water — from the back room. And a mattress. Hurry," he instructed, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic tremor of urgency.

As Idris hurried away, Zayn's gaze returned to Mia. He gently brushed a lock of hair from her face, his touch tender yet resolute. The moment hung in the air, a brief respite before plunging back into the unknown.

Zayn noticed droplets of sweat that had built up, soaking her clothes. His hand reached for a nearby towel to wipe some of it off. 

Idris returned, his arms laden with the necessary items. They worked together to make Mia comfortable, their movements synchronized in silent understanding.

Zayn poured the sacred water into a small cup, his hands steadying as he focused on the task. 

Zayn encircled the cup with steady hands, a faint tremble betraying his nerves. He inhaled deeply, the room falling into a tense hush. As he exhaled, a soft, misty white glow began to emanate from his palms, enveloping the cup in a gentle luminescence. His eyes, intense and steady, met hers — eyes that flickered with the faintest spark of determination. "You fought hard to reach this moment. Don't worry, you're in good hands."

As his aura cascaded into the cup, the water inside shimmered with an ethereal glow. Carefully, he brought the luminescent liquid to her lips. She drank, each sip seemingly endless, the glowing water flowing like a stream of hope.

Idris and Zayn watched, their expressions etched with anticipation and worry. We did our part. Now it's up to you," Idris spoke, his voice laced with a tremble of uncertainty.

Mia's heavy breathing came to a stop. For a moment, she lay at ease, her breath steady and eyes calm, as if she was gently floating on the surface of serenity. The two watched her. "Here it comes," Idris said

Her tranquility was short-lived. A subtle shift occurred; her eyes winced as she seemed to feel some discomfort. Her brow furrowed slightly, and a soft moan escaped her lips.

Mia's discomfort escalated quickly. What started as soft moans soon turned into deep, guttural groans. Her body tensed, each muscle coiling tight as she fought an internal battle with the pain. With every passing second, her groans grew louder and more desperate. Her hands balled into fists, clutching the mattress' edges with a white-knuckled grip. Her legs jerked wildly, and her body twisted and turned on the mattress as if trying to physically cast away the intensifying agony within.

Suddenly, Mia's agony reached its peak. The building tension in her body erupted in a piercing scream that echoed through the shop, chilling and raw. Her back arched off the mattress in a sharp, almost unnatural angle, a stark physical display of the fierce battle raging inside her.

"Focus!" Zayn's command cut through her screams. "That water can only heal you if you truly desire to be healed," he urged, his voice a beacon in her storm of pain.

Mia's body convulsed uncontrollably, each spasm a violent note in an agonizing symphony. Her limbs flailed, her fingers clawing at the air as if trying to grasp some unseen lifeline. Zayn leaned closer, his voice firm yet coaxing. "Look at me, Mia. See past the pain. You're stronger than it. Fight back!"

Zayn implored, his words a lifeline thrown into the turbulent sea of her agony.

Outside, the ominous presence of the demon loomed, its malevolence a silent sentinel waiting in the darkness. Inside, Zayn and Idris stood vigilant, aware that this was merely the beginning of a much darker battle. Her screams, raw and haunting, reverberated into the night, a chilling prelude to the horrors that awaited.