All the sounds melded together—the chaotic thoughts, the fox spirit's final threads of reason, and the clash between them. Adrian Wells could hear Focus's anguished whimpers nearby, but his mind thundered with more erratic, discordant voices: the fox spirit's primal hunger, a bone-deep gnawing emptiness, a swirling darkness of seduction, and desperate cries urging him to run.
Adrian took a sharp breath, crouched low, and charged toward the gap between the monstrous beast and the fox spirit. Yet, he didn't run as Focus had pleaded. Instead, he grabbed a shard of broken stone and hurled himself toward the creature's side.
He knew full well he couldn't defeat the monstrosity, but he also understood that running blindly wouldn't save him. The ruins were a labyrinth of jagged walls and shattered pillars, and the only open exit was entirely blocked by the creature's massive form. Running would just mean dying faster.
Better to fight—to risk everything for a chance, however slim. Perhaps he could distract the beast, forcing it to loosen its grip on Focus. If she could free herself, she might stand a chance of turning the tide.
These thoughts flashed through Adrian's mind in an instant. They were hardly well-reasoned plans, but desperation seldom left room for better alternatives. Gritting his teeth, he channeled his inexplicable strength once again, hurling the stone shard like a cannonball toward the grotesque mass of flesh and limbs.
Before Adrian could see the result, a shudder of foreboding ran through him. His instincts screamed at him to move, and he leapt aside just as a whip-like tail lashed the space he had occupied moments ago. The impact shattered stone and debris, sending dust and rubble flying in all directions.
Adrian tumbled to the ground, pelted by sharp fragments that stung his skin like shrapnel. He ignored the pain, his focus already snapping toward Focus.
The silver-white fox was still bound by the obsidian spikes and jagged fragments that had pierced her, her glowing blue tails flickering like flames on the verge of being extinguished. She thrashed violently, but the bindings held firm, as if they were designed specifically to restrain her.
Adrian clenched his fists. Even with all her power, Focus was utterly at the creature's mercy. The beast seemed to hold a natural dominance over her, a devastating counter to all her abilities.
Yet, she had still charged in to help him back on the clearing outside the ruins. She'd risked everything to save him, even though she had failed.
A brief flash of determination lit Adrian's eyes as he bit down on his frustration. He had no choice but to try again.
"Leave me! Run!" Focus's voice rang out, desperate and strained. "It… it can't kill me. But you… Run, Adrian!"
Adrian spat out a glob of blood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He glanced toward the fox spirit, offering her a wry smile.
"It can't kill me either," he said lightly, stepping toward the creature. "I might die in a minute, sure. But don't worry—I'll come back and find you."
Focus froze mid-struggle, her confusion evident even in her fox-like expression.
Adrian didn't bother explaining. His footsteps quickened, his grin growing wider as though he were strolling toward a grand celebration.
"You like telling people to eat, don't you?" he muttered to the beast. "Well, fine. I'll eat!"
Adrian lunged forward like a predator closing in on its prey, aiming straight for the grotesque heap of flesh and eyes.
The creature's many eyes trembled, a faint hesitation flickering within their chaotic depths. It unleashed a guttural roar, and several black, scale-covered tentacles shot toward Adrian like spears.
Pain lanced through him as the tentacles pierced his body, spreading a searing agony. He could feel life slipping away, his blood running warm as it fled his veins.
Yet, an overwhelming hunger rose within him, silencing every instinct to retreat or fear death. He clung to one of the tentacles impaling him, baring his teeth as he tore into its scaly surface.
The beast shrieked—a sharp, grating wail of pain and rage. It thrashed violently, trying to dislodge Adrian as though he were a venomous parasite.
But Adrian held on. Even as the beast whipped its tentacle, smashing him into the ground and shattering a crumbling wall, he refused to let go. He could hear the splintering stone, feel the raw impact coursing through his bones—but he was unbroken.
As the creature raised the tentacle again, swinging him toward the remnants of the temple, something glinted in the corner of Adrian's vision.
A faint golden glow.
Adrian squinted through the chaos, struggling to focus. The glow seemed to draw nearer, resolving into a shape he hadn't noticed before.
A door.
It was plain, unadorned, and impossibly out of place. Yet, Adrian found his hand reaching out instinctively, grasping its handle as it came within reach.
The door creaked open.
Adrian and the black-scaled tentacle were pulled through its frame in an instant.
Behind him, the door slammed shut with a thunderous clang. The severed end of the tentacle fell limply to the ground, spurting dark ichor.
The beast roared again, this time in a mix of confusion and fury. It thrashed wildly, destroying everything around it in a fit of uncontrollable rage.
Eventually, its rampage slowed. The creature dissolved into a shadowy mist, melting into the darkness of the valley as if retreating to lick its wounds.
Silence returned.
Focus lay motionless on the ground, her once-pristine fur stained with crimson. For minutes, she didn't stir.
When she finally opened her eyes, the golden glow had faded from her gaze. Her movements were sluggish, her spirit dimmed, but she dragged herself toward the remnants of the temple steps.
There, she found the scattered remnants of Adrian's belongings: a torn plastic bag and its pitiful contents of rotting food scraps.
Her tails drooped low as she lowered her head to the scraps, gnawing weakly at what remained.
The monstrous voice echoed faintly in her mind, coaxing her with venomous temptation.
"Eat. You know where to find more… their graves, in the forest… their bones… their flesh…"
"I'm not hungry…" Focus murmured weakly, trembling. "He's coming back… He said he'd bring me more… I'm not hungry…"
Her voice faded. Exhaustion overtook her as she curled beneath the crumbled steps, chewing on dirt and stone until the darkness claimed her again.
Adrian awoke to the chill of a morning breeze. The rough pavement pressed against his back as he blinked blearily at his surroundings.
Streetlights. Power lines. The familiar, worn facades of old Sycamore Street.
He turned his head, wincing as the world swam into focus. Just ahead stood the familiar exterior of 66 Sycamore Street, its weathered walls bathed in faint dawn light.
Adrian's gaze drifted upward.
A faint shadow lingered where the door had been, its golden outline fading into the ether. For the briefest moment, he thought he could still see it—a glimpse of the valley, the ruined temple, and the silver fox lying amidst the rubble.
His hand reached out instinctively.
But before his fingers could touch it, the shadow vanished.