The air in the cave felt denser as Nathan and Enoch made their way back to the ravine's edge, every step heavy with the stench of death. The remnants of blood from the man Nathan had killed still clung to his hands, the metallic scent refusing to fade. His mind was numbed, the act weighing on him as if it had stripped another piece of his humanity away. The price of survival is death.
But there was no time to reflect. Enoch was limping more heavily now, the wound on his leg worsening. Nathan could see how pale his friend had become, how each breath was becoming more labored. Enoch didn't complain—he never did—but Nathan could feel the desperation in the silence between them.
As they emerged from the cave's mouth, the ravine seemed to have deepened, as if the land itself had shifted in their absence. A thick, unnatural fog clung to the edges of the cliffs, casting eerie shadows that danced and twisted in ways that made Nathan's skin crawl.
"We need to find shelter." Nathan's voice was hoarse, the sound of it foreign to his own ears. Enoch only nodded, his eyes hollow, staring off into the murky darkness.
Nathan's gaze shifted up the side of the ravine where the creature had been stalking them earlier, but there was no sign of it now. That didn't mean they were safe. In this world, there was no such thing as safety.
As they started moving along the ravine floor, Nathan began hearing it again—the whispering. It had started softly, almost imperceptible, like the rustling of leaves in the wind. But now it was growing louder, more distinct, weaving through the shadows like a voice carried on the edge of consciousness.
"Nathan…"
He froze, his breath catching in his throat. That voice—it was familiar. Too familiar.
"Nathan. Help me."
It was Angel.
His heart skipped a beat, a rush of cold dread flooding his veins. It couldn't be. Angel was dead. They had seen her twisted and broken in the demon realm, corrupted beyond recognition. And yet, the voice was unmistakable.
Enoch glanced at him, concern flickering across his face. "You hear it too, don't you?" he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Nathan nodded slowly, his chest tightening. The voice was coming from somewhere ahead, deeper into the fog that clung to the ravine. Without a second thought, he started walking toward it, driven by something primal—a need to know, to see for himself if it was real.
"Nathan, wait!" Enoch called after him, but Nathan couldn't stop. His mind raced, torn between the hope that Angel could still be alive and the horrifying certainty that this was some sort of trick.
As he pushed forward, the fog thickened, wrapping around him like cold tendrils of smoke. His footsteps echoed hollowly, the sound swallowed by the dense air. The whispering grew louder, clearer, until it was no longer a faint call in the distance but a voice directly in his ear.
"Help me, Nathan. Please… help me."
He stumbled, the ground shifting beneath his feet. The air grew colder still, the fog swirling like a living thing around him. Nathan's heart pounded in his chest, his breath quickening. His hands trembled, his grip tightening around the handle of his knife.
The fog parted suddenly, revealing a figure in the distance. Nathan's breath caught in his throat as his eyes focused on her.
Angel.
She stood there, her silhouette faint against the pale mist. Her long, dark hair hung in tangled strands over her face, her body twisted in unnatural ways. Her clothes were torn and bloodied, her skin covered in deep, black veins that pulsed with a sickly light. But it was her eyes—those familiar, once-kind eyes—that sent a jolt of shock and terror through Nathan. They were wide, filled with pain, but they were still hers.
"Angel…" he whispered, his voice cracking. He took a step forward, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. How could she be here? How could she be alive?
But she wasn't alive. Not really. The closer he got, the more he could see the truth. Her body was no longer her own. It had been twisted, corrupted by the demon realm. She was a vessel now—something else wearing her skin, using her voice.
Her lips parted, and she spoke again, her voice trembling. "Nathan, help me. Please…"
Nathan's heart shattered. He could see the agony in her eyes, the way her body convulsed as if something inside her was fighting for control. She was still in there. Trapped. Suffering.
Enoch's voice came from behind, strained and urgent. "Nathan, we need to leave. This isn't real. It's the demon realm. It's trying to trick you!"
Nathan shook his head, his mind reeling. "It's her! Enoch, it's Angel! She's alive… we can save her!" His voice was desperate, tinged with a madness that was beginning to creep into his thoughts. He couldn't let her die. Not again.
Angel's hand reached out toward him, her fingers trembling. "Please, Nathan. I can't fight it anymore. It's too strong." Her voice was a soft plea, almost childlike in its sorrow.
Nathan took another step forward, the knife shaking in his hand. He was so close. So close to saving her. He could do it. He had to.
But as he reached out to touch her, something inside him snapped. The fog around them thickened, turning darker, almost solid. Angel's body convulsed violently, her eyes rolling back in her head. The black veins on her skin pulsed wildly, spreading across her face, her neck. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, her body twisting in ways that no human body should.
"Nathan, no!" Enoch's voice was panicked now, but Nathan couldn't pull away.
Angel's eyes snapped back open, but they were no longer her eyes. They were black—empty, void-like pits. Her lips curled into a grotesque smile, revealing sharp, jagged teeth.
"You should have listened," she hissed, her voice no longer soft, no longer hers. "She's mine now."
Before Nathan could react, Angel's body lunged at him, moving with unnatural speed. Her hands—those once gentle hands—grabbed his throat, squeezing with inhuman strength. Nathan gasped, the air leaving his lungs as her nails dug into his flesh.
"Angel!" he choked out, his vision blurring as his world began to darken.
But it wasn't Angel anymore. It was something else. Something far worse. The thing that had taken her was stronger, crueler. It had used her voice, her face, to lure him into its trap. And now, it was going to kill him.
Enoch rushed forward, grabbing Nathan by the shoulders and pulling him back. The force of the pull tore Nathan from the creature's grasp, and he collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath.
The creature that had once been Angel snarled, its eyes blazing with fury. It lunged at them again, but Enoch was ready this time. He swung a large rock, smashing it into the creature's head with all his strength. The impact sent the creature sprawling to the ground, where it lay twitching.
Nathan stared, his chest heaving, his mind reeling. That wasn't Angel. It never was.
"We have to go," Enoch said urgently, his voice strained. "Now, before it gets back up."
Nathan nodded weakly, his body shaking. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the twisted form of what had once been his friend. The pain in his chest was unbearable. She was gone. Really gone.
As they stumbled away from the ravine, Nathan could still hear the faint sound of her voice, whispering in the fog. Calling his name.