It had only been one night since they'd last been here, but stepping out of the car, Aiden could feel the weight of something that had settled over the house.
Like a wound, barely scabbed over.
Garrison was the last to reach the house, staring at the front door as though seeing it for the first time. His fingers flexed at his sides, his breath steady, but his entire posture tight with something unspoken.
Lila glanced at him. "You don't have to—"
"I have to." Garrison's voice left no room for argument.
Aiden nodded, pulling his baton from his belt before stepping forward.
The porch creaked beneath their weight as they ascended the steps. The door was still slightly ajar—just as they'd left it.
Garrison pushed it open fully.
The inside was exactly as they left it.
But somehow, it felt different.
The blood still clung to the air, heavy, metallic, and thick with memory. The dried streaks on the floor remained untouched, blackening against the wood like deep scars carved into the foundation itself.
The aftermath of a family gone.
Rowan was the first to break the silence. "Ugh its smells like the bog."
"Its the rot you will get used to it," Aiden muttered, scanning the space. Something was off.
He felt it before he saw it.
The faint pulse of something unseen—like a breath disturbing the stillness.
Then—
A screech. A flutter of movement. A burst of shadow.
Aiden reacted instantly, his baton snapping to life, crackling with golden light.
Shadow bats.
They came from above, from the ceiling, bursting from unseen pockets of darkness. Their screeches rattled against the walls, their inky bodies moving too fast, too wrong.
Aiden swung. One connected—a sharp zap of light, before it dissolved into dust.
"Bats?" Rowan yelped, ducking as one swooped past her. "You've gotta be kidding me!"
She reached for the nearest object—a wok—from the drying rack by the kitchen. She gripped it with both hands, focusing—trying to channel her light through it.
The wok glowed for half a second—
Then immediately cracked down the middle.
"Son of a—" she swung anyway, whacking a bat out of the air, sending it spiraling into the counter. It popped like a soap bubble, dissolving into luminescence.
Garrison took a step back, eyes wide, completely frozen.
Another bat dove straight for his face—
Rowan grabbed a rolling pin, trying to summon her light again. It shattered on impact.
"WHY DOES EVERYTHING I TOUCH BREAK?!" she yelled, throwing the useless handle aside.
Aiden's baton snapped forward, clearing another two, but the moment he swung for the third—
The baton cracked.
Aiden barely had a second to process it before the energy flickered and died.
He cursed, dropping the useless handle.
Lila watched the chaos completely untouched.
The bats avoided her.
They veered away every time they got too close, their screeches louder, almost… disturbed by her presence.
Lila's fists clenched, but she didn't move.
She wasn't scared.
But she was starting to understand something.
Aiden ducked, scanning the room for anything—his eyes locked onto the fireplace.
A poker.
He lunged for it just as a bat dove for his throat.
His hand closed around the iron handle and he swung upward, impaling the creature mid-air.
It let out one final screech before its entire form collapsed into nothing.
Aiden exhaled sharply. His grip tightened around the poker.
It was over.
For a long moment, the house settled.
Garrison was still pressed against the doorway, his knuckles white against the frame.
Lila turned toward him, her voice gentler. "You okay?"
Garrison let out a breath. His hand came up, rubbing his face.
He hadn't known what to do. The entire fight, he had just stood there.
"…They were in my house."
His voice was raw.
Aiden exhaled, lowering the poker. "We need to keep moving."
Garrison didn't argue.
They pressed forward.
The bedroom door swung open.
Marisol's room was exactly how they had left it—except for one thing.
Rowan let out a breath, the tension finally easing from her shoulders.
"Nothing's here. We're fine. We're—"
She trailed off.
Lila hadn't moved. She was still staring at the wall.
Against the far wall— a scar.
To anyone else, it would have looked normal. A faint, insignificant mark on the surface of reality.
But Aiden and Lila could feel it.
There was no crack. No tear. No physical wound in the room.
But it had been here.
Aiden could feel it, like a ghost of a scar, a hollow imprint on reality itself.
Rowan frowned. "What am I looking at?"
"A crack," Aiden muttered. "A tear."
"From the Otherworld?" Rowan's voice was quieter now.
Aiden nodded. "It was a gate."
Lila felt it pulling at her.
Different.
"…This one's not like the others," she murmured.
Garrison stepped closer, brow furrowing. "I don't see anything."
"It's not about what you see," Lila said. "It's about what's left behind."
Garrison let the words sink in. What's left behind.
He turned his gaze back to the crack.
It hit him all at once.
If this had been a gate—if this was where Marisol had been taken—
Then she hadn't done this.
She hadn't killed Sofia or their family.
She was innocent.
His breath caught. A strange, misplaced relief settled in his chest.
But almost immediately—guilt followed.
He was still standing in their home soaked in blood.
His kids were still gone. His wife was still gone.
Nothing could undo that.
His shoulders dropped.
"Okay," he said finally. "So where does it go?"
"I would imagine if it was still open... back to the otherworld," Aiden admitted.
Lila took a step closer. The crack pulled at something inside of her.
She knew she shouldn't.
She knew Aiden would tell her to stop.
But she had to know.
She had to.
She reached out—
Aiden turned sharply. "Lila, wait—"
But the moment her fingers brushed the surface—
A shock.
A sharp, electric snap.
Lila gasped—
And suddenly, she wasn't in the room anymore.