“Come on, Arthur,” Eliza said, leaning back in her chair with a sly grin. “How about you go next? You already told me everything anyway.”

Arthur shifted uncomfortably, avoiding her gaze. “Yeah, but that was different. I’m… not ready now.” His eyes flickered toward Emelia, his reluctance written across his face.

Eliza sighed, dramatically throwing her hands up. “Fine, fine. What about you, Emelia? Everyone saw the report on the news anyway.”

The room fell silent as Emelia turned to glare at her. Without hesitation, she kicked Eliza in the shin. The sound echoed slightly in the quiet room.

“What the hell was that for?” Eliza exclaimed, rubbing her leg out of instinct. “We can’t even feel pain!”

“You’re being rude,” Emelia said, pouting as she crossed her arms.

Arthur’s gaze narrowed, his earlier hesitation replaced by a sharp edge. “Why don’t you go, Eliza? You were so blunt about asking me earlier.”

Eliza froze for a moment, then let out a forced yawn, stretching her arms dramatically. “You know what? Forget I said anything. I’m tired. I’m heading off to bed.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, incredulous. “Wait, we don’t even get tired—”

“—and she’s gone,” Emelia finished, sighing as they watched Eliza retreat into her room without looking back.

Hugo leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “I figured this would happen. She’s not ready to talk about it. Won’t even open up to herself about why it happened.” He shook his head, his voice tinged with frustration. “Though, honestly, I can’t blame her.”

The room grew quiet again, the weight of unspoken stories hanging thick in the air. Emelia hesitated, then turned to Arthur. “Um… Arthur? Could we talk in private?”

Arthur blinked, caught off guard by the request. “S-sure. Where should we go?”

“This way,” Emelia said softly, gesturing for him to follow. She led him to her room, her pace unhurried but purposeful.

Arthur stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over the space. The room was cozy, filled with pieces of Emelia’s personality. A small bookshelf lined one wall, brimming with novels in neat rows. Plushies of various animals and characters were arranged on the bed, their soft colors standing out against the dim light. His eyes finally landed on the nightstand, where a framed photo of the two of them smiled back at him—a frozen moment of happiness that now felt like a distant memory.

Emelia walked over to the bed, sitting down and fiddling with the hem of her skirt. “Hugo told me,” she began, her voice quiet but steady. “He said ghosts that smell like mint had their bodies stolen by angels… after they tried to kill themselves.”

Arthur stiffened, the words striking a chord of guilt and pain he hadn’t yet faced. “Emelia…” he whispered, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.

The room felt smaller, the silence between them heavy with the weight of what neither of them was quite ready to say.

“To be fully honest, I—” Arthur began, but his words were cut off by a piercing scream that tore through the air.

“Eliza!” Emelia gasped, her eyes wide with panic.

Arthur didn’t hesitate. He bolted toward the sound, his pulse pounding in his ears. Emelia followed close behind as they reached Eliza’s room. Without a second thought, Arthur shoved the door open, and the scene that greeted them was pure chaos.

The room was in complete disarray. The wardrobe lay toppled over, its contents spilled across the floor. Shards of glass from shattered photo frames glittered in the dim light, carpeting the ground like jagged stars. But it was Eliza who captured their focus. She was pressed against the wall, her body lifted several feet off the ground, her feet dangling helplessly. Around her neck coiled a slimy, black tentacle, its pulsating surface glistening as it tightened mercilessly.

“Not… again,” Eliza choked out, her voice strained as her hands clawed at the tentacle. Her face was pale, her breaths ragged.

Arthur’s gaze darted around the room until it landed on a knife lying on the floor amidst the mess. Without hesitation, he grabbed it and lunged at the tentacle. The blade sliced through the slick appendage with a sickening squelch, spraying a dark, viscous fluid across the floor. Eliza fell to the ground, gasping and coughing violently as she clutched her throat.

Arthur barely had time to check on her before the wall beside them cracked, a small hole forming as something began to emerge. The hole could’ve fit a rat at most, but the creature that crawled out defied all logic.

It unfolded itself slowly, its body impossibly twisting and stretching until it stood upright. Though human-sized, its grotesque form seemed too large for the space it had just emerged from. Its skin was a raw, angry red, stretched tightly over its frame like a grotesque costume. Where ears should have been, there was only smooth flesh. Its single, massive eye gleamed like a sickly yellow lantern, its gaze locking onto Arthur with a predatory intensity.

When it opened its gaping mouth, a writhing mass of slimy, cylindrical tentacles spilled out, lashing the air violently. Each appendage moved with a life of its own, dripping a viscous, greenish liquid onto the floor. Its jagged, unsteady movements gave the impression of something that had no bones, yet it remained disturbingly upright. The wings on its back were skeletal, with no feathers, only sinew and torn skin stretched across the bony frames.

Arthur froze, the knife trembling in his hand. The creature’s jagged movements were mesmerizing in their unnaturalness, a stark reminder of the nightmarish world he now inhabited.

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The sound of hurried footsteps signaled Hugo’s arrival. He burst into the room, his metal bat already in hand. Without hesitation, he swung it at the creature’s torso, the impact echoing through the room. The Fallen barely flinched, its massive eye narrowing in annoyance as it lashed one of its tentacles toward him.

“Move!” Hugo barked, dodging the attack with practiced ease. In one swift motion, he pulled a taser from his jacket and jammed it into the creature’s neck. A burst of electricity crackled through the air, and the Fallen collapsed, its body melting into a puddle-like form that sloshed unsettlingly across the floor.

Hugo turned, hoisting the still-recovering Eliza into his arms. “We’re leaving. Now,” he ordered, his voice clipped and urgent.

Arthur and Emelia exchanged a quick glance, both understanding the gravity of the situation. They didn’t need to be told twice. The group hurried out of the room, the distant sounds of wet, squelching movement behind them serving as a reminder that the creature might not stay down for long.

As they reached the main area, Roxanne appeared, her wide eyes darting between them and the direction they’d come from. “What’s going on? What’s that noise?”

“No time to explain!” Hugo snapped. “Move it!”

Not waiting for an answer, Roxanne joined the group, her fear overriding any curiosity. Together, they fled the hideout, their footsteps echoing in the dark, damp tunnels. The oppressive sense of danger clung to them like the creature’s vile stench, filling the air with a suffocating weight.

The sewers were colder than usual, each breath visible as wisps of vapor in the dim light. The faint sound of water dripping from unseen crevices only amplified their unease. Eliza clung to Hugo tightly, her fingers gripping his shirt as though letting go would make her disappear. Silent tears streamed down her face, her usually sharp demeanor crumbling under the weight of fear.

“I’ve got you,” Hugo murmured, his voice steady but strained. He glanced down at her, his brow furrowed with determination. “Don’t worry. We just need to survive until morning. Once the sun rises, all the Fallen will disappear. Just hold on.”

Eliza nodded weakly, but her grip didn’t loosen.

“How did that thing even get in?” Arthur asked, his voice tight with panic as he struggled to keep up.

“Each Fallen is different,” Hugo replied grimly, his eyes scanning the dark tunnels ahead. “They all have their own quirks, their own… abilities. But I never thought one could contort itself like that. That thing… it shouldn’t have been able to get through the walls.”

“Boss,” Roxanne chimed in, her voice uncharacteristically subdued. “Where are we going? Do you even have a plan?”

“Of course I do,” Hugo snapped, though his tone betrayed a hint of irritation—more at the situation than at her. “I’ve got multiple hideouts set up for emergencies like this. It won’t be as nice as our main spot, but it’ll keep us alive.”

Arthur reached out, his hand finding Emelia’s. “Just hold on to me. Don’t let go.”

“I won’t,” Emelia whispered, squeezing his hand tightly. Despite the chaos, her faint smile was a flicker of comfort in the darkness. “I promise.”

The group pressed on, their faith in Hugo’s plan the only thing keeping them moving forward. But the further they went, the more oppressive the air seemed to grow. It felt heavier, thicker, as if the tunnels themselves were conspiring against them. Shadows stretched unnaturally across the walls, twisting and writhing like living things.

Arthur’s grip on Emelia’s hand tightened, his pulse pounding in his ears. The hope they clung to felt fragile, tenuous—like a thread that could snap at any moment.

And then it did.

As they rounded a corner, they came to an abrupt stop. The faint flicker of hope they had been nurturing extinguished in an instant. Blocking their path was a creature so grotesque, so otherworldly, that it made the previous Fallen seem almost tame.

Its lower half resembled a massive centipede, its countless legs squirming and clicking against the wet floor. Instead of feet, grotesque, rotting hands protruded from each segment, their bloody red fingernails scraping against the ground. The air reeked of decay, each step leaving a slimy residue in its wake.

The creature’s upper half was cloaked in black, the fabric hanging loosely as if draped over a frame that barely existed. Neither its torso nor its face was visible, but something inside the cloak shifted and writhed with an unsettling, wet sound—like countless worms squirming together. From its back emerged enormous black wings, each feather glinting in the dim light like a razor-sharp blade.

The cloak shifted, and long, grotesque arms emerged from beneath it. These were not arms in the traditional sense but grotesque appendages that split into writhing tentacles, each one lashing violently as if searching for something—or someone—to latch onto.

The group froze in place, their breaths caught in their throats. The air felt charged, suffocating, as if the very presence of the creature was draining the life from the surrounding space.

“What the hell is that?” Roxanne whispered, her voice trembling.

Hugo gritted his teeth, his grip on Eliza tightening. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his usual confidence replaced by a grim seriousness. “I’ve never seen a Fallen like this. Feathers… on its wings? That’s new.”

The creature’s single, massive eye appeared beneath the hood of its cloak, its eerie, glowing red gaze locking onto them. The wet, squelching sound of its movements filled the tunnel as it began to advance, its tentacles lashing the walls with sharp, wet cracks.

Arthur felt Emelia’s hand tremble in his, and for a moment, he thought he might break. But then Hugo’s voice cut through the oppressive silence.

“Stay behind me. No matter what.”

A sinister red light flared from the Fallen’s single eye, bathing the tunnel in an eerie, pulsating glow. The air grew heavier as the light swept over the group, lingering on each of them as though it were scanning their very souls.

When the beam passed over Hugo, Eliza, and Arthur, it froze. The creature stiffened, its grotesque body halting its unnatural movements. The red glow intensified, the eye narrowing as if in recognition. It wasn’t just searching—it had found something. Three things. Its laugh filled the air, a chilling sound that reverberated like a thousand whispers in the dark. Yet the creature had no mouth.

Not yet.

It blinked, and in an instant, its single, glowing eye was replaced by a gaping maw. The space where its eye had been now stretched into a vertical slit filled with endless rows of jagged teeth, each glistening with a sickly sheen. The teeth churned like a grinder, a horrifying promise of what would happen to anything unfortunate enough to fall into its grasp. The sound of grinding echoed, sharp and wet, sending shivers through the group.

The Fallen blinked again, and the mouth vanished as though it had never existed. Its eye returned, unblinking, its crimson light locking onto the three of them once more. It tilted its head, as though amused, before letting out another hollow, echoing laugh that made the walls of the sewer tremble.

Arthur’s hands tightened into fists, cold sweat breaking out across his skin despite the chill of the tunnel. “What the hell is it doing?” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the creature’s laughter.

“It’s found something,” Hugo said grimly, stepping in front of the group, his bat raised defensively. “And it doesn’t plan on letting us go.”

“Found what?” Eliza rasped, still clutching Hugo’s arm. Her voice was strained, fear flickering behind her usually sharp eyes.

Hugo didn’t answer. His gaze stayed locked on the creature, his knuckles whitening around the grip of his bat, that he kept on his waist.

The creature’s laugh faded, replaced by the sound of its tentacles cracking against the walls. It advanced slowly, deliberately, its razor-edged wings stretching wide, scraping against the sides of the tunnel. Sparks flew as the bladed feathers carved into the concrete, each step closer sending a ripple of dread through the group.