Kiehra's heart pounded in her chest as she registered the scene before her. Rhys—their supervisor and guide for many of the Initiates—was unrecognizable. The inky substance twisted her, tar-like sludge clinging to her skin and running along her body in tendrils and cracks. Her upside-down face was a horrific mask of pain, her mouth moving in inaudible words that held no meaning, while her eyes flickered constantly with terror and rage, though there was a small glimpse of humanity underneath it all.
Kiehra gulped, fighting the urge to step back in disgust. Beside her, Riona tensed, her claws extending with Tartarus's energy simmering at her fingertips. Fabian, on her other side, didn't move, his eyes locked in complete concentration as he tracked Rhys's every move with a quiet, eerie calm.
Rhys staggered forward, her movements erratic, her twisted limbs twitching at painfully unnatural angles. In her hoarse voice, she rasped. "You…Ashbluff….rot…"
The words came out jumbled, sounding more like animalistic snarling than actual speech, her hollow eyes filled with blame. Kiehra tried to shake off the accusation, forcing herself to believe that she was in no way related to the suffering that Rhys was going through right now.
Then Rhys shot forward, faster than any of them could have anticipated. Kiehra barely managed to dodge, feeling the whoosh of displaced air as the ink-covered claws sailed past her head. Instinctively, she twisted back, her reflexes significantly sharpened by the power inside of her.
Riona growled, her posture low as a snarl twisted itself unto her features. "Tha bloody 'ell 'appened ta her?" she hissed, her words heavy with confusion, fear and disgust. "Didja know 'bout this Ashbluff? Why did she—"
Kiehra cut her off sharply, her voice more certain than she felt. "Of course not! I have no clue what's going on!" she frantically gestured to the ink oozing out of Rhys's every orifice, as if that could explain what was happening.
Riona gave her a skeptical glare, the distrust in her eyes clear as day. "I find it pretty damned hard ta believe ya…"
Before Kiehra could think of a retort, Rhys let out a guttural cry and lunged forward again, her misshapen form crashing towards them ferociously. Riona didn't hold back, darting forward in a blur of searing, molten energy. With a flash of her claws, she struck at Rhys with the full force of her and Tartarus's combined strength, her claws burning arcs into the inky substance clinging to Rhys, forcing her to stumble backwards. But instead of retreating, Rhys's unstable form twisted more, absorbing the blows like the ink had completely merged with her very skin.
Kiehra held her breath, watching in disgust as the ink spread further up Rhys's arms and neck, seemingly reacting to Riona's attacks. Each slash and burn made the viscous liquid stronger, taking over her skin and reshaping her limbs into grotesque claws.
Fabian, who had been silent all this time, finally spoke up, sounding cool and calm as ever. "Going at her like that isn't going to work. It's fueling whatever's controlling her." His eyes flicked between his companions and Rhys's unstable form, gears turning in his head as he held up his massive feather pen in a defensive stance. "Our goal should be stopping the spread, else we'll be facing something much worse in a couple of minutes."
Kiehra nodded, keeping her movements tight and controlled as she edged closer to Rhys, looking for an opening that would let her subdue their supervisor rather than harm her. It was a difficult balance to attain; she couldn't reveal her full strength, but also had to use just enough that she could end this fight quickly. She turned to Riona, her body trembling with a mix of urgency and hope born of desperation. "I think we can still save her. We just need to be careful…we need to hold back for her sake."
Riona stared at her in bewilderment. "Hold back? Tha' damned broad is tryin' ta kill us Ashbluff! I know ya don't care bout tha' rest o' us but do try ta be subtle bout it!"
"I don't want her to die, damnit!" Kiehra's voice came out sharper than intended, a faint tremor shaking the room as a rare flicker of anger flashed across her face. She forced herself to calm down, refocusing on the battle as she adjusted her stance, drawing out just enough power to withstand Rhys's next attack. "I feel it okay? Rhys's soul is in there somewhere…she isn't all gone…"
Rhys's guttural screeching interrupted Riona's response, the ink covering her body bursting outward in a wave, rapidly stretching across the floor like an oil spill. The instant it came into contact with Kiehra's boots, her vision spun, the living darkness creeping up her legs and clawing at her with spindly hands, clinging to her clothes like cigarette smoke.
Three spoke up in a low, urgent whisper. "That thing isn't ink. It's an echo from the past—an ancient darkness I've sensed before. Be careful…get away from it now."
Kiehra frowned, feeling the ink literally try to drag her into itself, like it wanted to consume her whole. She planted her feet firmly, trying to fight the sinking sensation by feeling for Three's presence and drawing on his strength.
But that slight pause nearly cost her. Rhys's twisted form advanced once again, hollow eyes filled with a gut wrenching mix of rage and sorrow, mumbling incoherently through broken, pained whispers.
"Sorry…so sorry…" she sobbed, clawing and tearing at the blackened flesh of her disfigured face as if trying to rip it off. "Forgive me…not supposed to…."
Her claws sliced through the air, and Kiehra barely had the time to duck, feeling the burning slash of ink-laden claws graze her shoulder. The pain was immediate and unbearable, a searing sensation shooting through every inch of her body. She gasped, her vision blurring as she struggled to keep herself standing.
Three had gasped as well, going silent for a moment before his voice echoed again, gruff and concerned. "Enough with these games. I know you're trying to be careful, but you have to use more power. Stop holding back so much!"
Kiehra ignored the spirit, ducking as Rhys struck out at her again, just missing her by a few inches. She countered with a quick punch, successfully pulling her strength back enough that Rhys stumbled instead of exploding into blood and guts. The monstrous instructor staggered only for a moment, and in the next breath she rebounded with even more fury, lashing out in a flurry of strikes that forced Kiehra on the backfoot, forcing her to dodge and weave nonstop, careful not to lose control.
To say it was frustrating was an understatement. Each time one of them landed a blow, it was as though Rhys's body absorbed it and used it as fuel to grow stronger instead of receiving damage. Rhys's form became more monstrous with each hit, the ink coiling tighter around her body and bending her frame into even more sickening shapes. Her strength grew, and her movements got sharper and relentless, the pain driving her deeper into her frenzy.
"Every attack makes her stronger…" Kiehra muttered, glancing at Riona and Fabian as they, too, seemed to realize the deadliness of their predicament. The ferocity of this monster's strength was overwhelming; it was taking her companions all they had to dodge her attacks, let alone retaliate. Though she couldn't feel any physical fatigue, she found herself getting worn out with each passing moment. In a brief but terrifying clash, Kiehra found Rhys briefly overpowering her controlled might, and judging from the worried sounds Three was making, that must've been a shocking feat in and of itself.
Riona growled, her frustration palpable as she stared daggers at the dark mass covering Rhys. "This be a bloody waste o' time. We need ta end this farce now damnit!" Her claws extended, glowing a bright orange due to the sheer intensity of the molten energy flowing through them as she prepared to strike.
Three's voice was bordering on frantic. "The furry one is right! You can't keep this up. If she's grown strong enough to match you, albeit in a controlled state, it's only a matter of time till this entire building comes down."
Kiehra's mind buzzed, feeling the gravity of the situation fall on her in full force. If she didn't intervene meaningfully, Rhys was going to unleash havoc on everything in her path. She had to bring this rampage to an end, and do it in a way that she wouldn't be exposing herself.
Steeling her nerves, Kiehra focused, drawing on even more of Three's power till it was just enough for her to steady herself. "We have to tear her down together!" She called out to Riona and Fabian. "Chipping away at her is getting us nowhere. We need to synchronize and overwhelm her all at once!"
Riona's face twisted in a fierce grimace, her expression just screaming disdain. It was obvious that she considered fighting Rhys alone the better option than fighting alongside Kiehra, but after a few seconds of inner conflict, she responded with a reluctant nod. The sloth flexed her hands, and her claws went from glowing to bursting into fierce flames, the embers dancing in the air while looking to consume whatever stood in her path. On the opposite side, Fabian remained stoic. He took a deep breath and spun his feather pen in multiple elegant arcs that left silver lines etched into the air, literally writing on nothing. The shimmering lines shot across the room, circling Rhys's body like enchanted chains, coiling and weaving tighter with each pass till her frantic movements were restrained. The Hollow Wing was filled with dull light as Fabian's sigils brightened and constricted the supervisor even more.
Kiehra stepped in, letting her power thrum freely beneath her skin but tempering it to a level of restraint she had never reached before. Not revealing more than necessary, she made sure each strike she landed was decisive and effective. Her fists struck in controlled arcs, each blow carrying just enough force to destabilize Rhys and break the grip of the ink without shattering what little of the woman remained. Each hit was carefully calculated as Kiehra tried to sense the line between weakening Rhys and protecting her.
The three of them moved in a tense but flawless rhythm, their movements so finely attuned to a single purpose it was as though they shared one pulse. Riona's claws sliced through the thick shadows, burning through any tendrils of ink that reached out. Fabian's silver restraints tightened with each flourish of his pen, occasionally taking his own chances to strike at Rhys while exuding precise and unwavering strength. As for Kiehra—she matched their pace, striking fast and hard with tempered intensity, yet always holding back that surging strength nestled within.
Gradually, their relentless strikes forced Rhys back. The ink, seemingly unable to keep up with the storm of attacks, recoiled with each blow, pieces sloughing off her form in smoking, hissing strips. Riona's blazing claws swung in one final, smoldering arc, and in tandem with Kiehra's powerful blow, the last threads of ink shattered, dissipating in the air like smoke. With a choked, desperate gasp, Rhys staggered back. The ink retreated, falling off her skin in thick chunks that vanished the instant they hit the ground, revealing her ruined body underneath.
Her skin was ravaged where the ink had latched on, raw and bloodied in a way that seemed like the ink was eating through her flesh. Rhys's face, which was composed and fierce just days before, was now an agonized, hollow sight with empty eye sockets, and to make it worse, her facial structure remained upside-down, sending a pang of pain and terror through Kiehra. Rhys dropped to her knees, fingers pulling weakly at her ruined face, nails digging into the open wounds with brutal desperation.
"Rot….rot…." Rhys's voice was a hoarse whisper, filling the air with shattered syllables that held no meaning. Her gaze, empty as it was, held a flicker of something—a fading consciousness and fragile recognition that made even Riona's heart cry. She opened her mouth and closed it repeatedly, trying to form words that were too dire to utter.
The room fell into tense silence as Rhys slumped, her body wracked with spasms, and the three of them could do nothing but watch in muted horror. None of them got the chance to act before the doors flew open, and a team of Phantom Sentry officers flooded in, their movements swift as they assessed the scene. Paramedics rushed to Rhys's side, and even the most experienced one there flinched at the mangled sight before them. Her body convulsed as they attempted to lift her onto a stretcher, her misshapen limbs twitching and jerking in grotesque spasms, ink-stained hands clawing at the air.
But then, with a sickening crunch, the ink surged again. From within her stomach and her disfigured face, inky arms erupted, twisting and swinging in every direction with a malicious fury. They tore out of her body, spreading, curling and seeking purchase on anything they could find. Everyone present stepped back, fear stark in their eyes as Rhys let out a strangled, keening wail that echoed through the entire wing.
Her body convulsed one last time, and with one final shudder, the inky hands receded into her body, seemingly tearing her apart from within before vanishing entirely. Rhys's form crumpled in on itself slightly, her body left lifeless on the floor in a growing pool of ink-stained blood.
For a moment, there was only silence, the horror of the scene settling over everyone present. The senior paramedic, pale with terror, stepped forward and bent over her body, his face grim as he declared her dead—not like they couldn't tell already.
Kiehra was…frozen. She could hear the hushed voices, the fearful questions, the terrified whispers, but they all felt far away and muddled, as though she were trapped in an impenetrable fog. In the back of her mind, she felt Three mumbling something, his voice faint and soft, murmuring reassurances that she couldn't even grasp. All she could see was Rhys's face, twisted in anguish, lifeless eyes pleading for release as the whispered word "rot" echoed in her ears like a ghostly chant.
Later, back in the solitude of her camper van, Kiehra sat alone. The dim glow of her Emitter cast a light over her face, illuminating the notification that she had received some minutes ago: Promotion to Sentry Officer.
It should have felt like an honor. It should have been something worth celebrating. But all she felt was a hollow ache and an emptiness that left her unable to reconcile the title with the memory of Rhys's face, warped beyond recognition in agony and betrayal. It was at times like this she cursed her extraordinary senses. Every detail of the day's events played repeatedly in her mind, sharper and more vivid than before.
Three was still murmuring in the back of her mind, comforting words that the spirit must have thought would soothe her, but they all fell flat. She barely registered his presence, her attention sinking into the haunting memory of Rhys's final moments.
And then, as she finally drifted into a restless sleep, the visions came. An ink-like fog filled her mind, and Rhys's face was there in the darkness, her lips moving but making no sound, while her empty eyes begged Kiehra to remember, or at least understand something that lingered just beyond reach. Through it all, a single word echoed, repeating endlessly, a bone-chilling whisper that occupied every trace of silence and wormed its way into her bones:
"Rot."
Kiehra woke up in a cold sweat, the memory of that single word lingering in the stillness, an omen that promised far more than a simple warning.