Henry’s breath caught, but he forced himself to focus, digging deep into the well of defiance that had kept him alive this far. His hand trembled as he stretched it forward, his thoughts narrowing to a single, fierce command: Come back to me.

The wand shuddered in the leader’s grip, the dark wood glowing faintly as if responding to Henry’s determination.

The leader’s grin twisted into a snarl. “What—?” His knuckles whitened as he tightened his grip, but the wand shook harder, pulling against his hold like a caged animal sensing freedom.

“Give it back!” Henry roared, his voice raw and cracking with emotion. He stepped forward, each footfall heavy, as though the oppressive mist pressing down on him sought to anchor him in place. With every step, the wand pulsed brighter, streaks of light rippling across its surface. The leader’s fingers trembled, his grasp weakening under the wand’s rebellion.

The leader bared his teeth, his smug composure crumbling. “You think you can take it back with sheer willpower? Foolish boy.” His voice dropped into a guttural growl, sharp and grating, like nails scraping against stone. “Let me show you what true power looks like.”

He thrust the wand skyward, his chant a discordant, grinding rhythm that made Henry’s skull throb with the amount of power crackling in the air. The air darkened, and shadows curled like serpents around the leader, rising in thick, writhing tendrils. A vortex of roiling mist spiraled outward, carrying a bone-deep chill and the stench of decay.

From that abyss, monstrosities clawed their way into existence.

The first emerged with a hollow screech: a bird with no head, its neck ending in a gaping maw lined with needle-like teeth. Its tattered wings flapped wildly, sending spiraling tendrils of mist toward Henry and Sarah. Behind it slithered a tiger’s head on a snake’s body, its glowing green eyes locking onto them with predatory malice. More horrors followed: an upside-down wolf that padded silently along the ceiling of mist as if gravity held no claim over it, and a grotesque spider with pallid, twitching human hands where its legs should have been.

The air grew colder, heavy with dread.

Sarah stumbled backward, her voice a choked whisper. “W-What are those things? Henry, what are they?!”

“They’re nightmares,” Henry said, his voice taut as he stared down the creatures.

Elara buzzed closer, her iridescent wings a blur, her wide eyes glinting like shards of broken glass. She spun in a tight circle mid-air, pointing dramatically at the creatures with her twig-like finger. “Ohhh, this is bad. Very bad! You know what those are? Big, ugly problems, that’s what! The kind that make you scream and maybe wet yourself a little. No judgment. It happens!”

“Elara—” Henry snapped, his frustration bubbling over.

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She twirled again, clutching her face as if preparing to deliver a grandiose monologue. “Manifestations of despair! Shadows made flesh! Nightmares dragged kicking and screaming into a body—and very questionable artistic choices!” She pointed emphatically at the spider. “Look at that one! Hands on a spider! It’s either a genius or it’s drunk. Drunk spiders! I’ll never sleep again.”

“Elara,” Sarah whispered, her voice trembling, “please tell me you have some kind of plan.”

For a moment, Elara paused, her face unusually serious. “Oh, I have a plan,” she said softly. Then her manic grin returned. “It’s called ‘don’t get eaten.’ Let’s see if we survive long enough to workshop a better one!”

The spider lunged, its human hands scrabbling against the stone, and Henry raised his trembling hand again. The wand pulsed in response, its light flaring bright enough to push back the mist. His legs felt like lead, but he refused to stop.

Come back to me.

The wand tugged harder in the leader’s grip, and the light intensified.

Henry shot her a desperate look. “Focus! What do we do?”

“Do?” She tilted her head, one eye twitching. “Oh, you fight them, obviously. Or run. Or cry. Maybe all three at the same time! Multitasking is key! But whatever you do, don’t let them touch you. That one there—” She pointed at the tiger-snake hybrid, her tone sing-song. “—it bites. And you’ll wish it didn’t. Hallucinations. Nasty ones. The kind that dig into your brain and make you question everything. Fun! I'm going to go test it.” Elara rushed the leader before vanishing into a poof of smoke.

The leader laughed maniacally, his voice rising above her ramblings. “You wanted the wand? Come and take it—if you survive!”

Elara appeared behind Henry, gripping his hair with tiny hands and shaking his head like a marionette. “Okay, hero boy, go get ‘em! Or die trying! Preferably the first one, though. I’m not great at funerals—I always eat all the snacks, and then people get mad. Drop crumbs over a corpse one time, and it’s all: bad Elara. Don't eat over the corpse Elara. Don’t pick them up off the corpse Elara.”

Henry clenched his fists, forcing her antics to the back of his mind. He focused on the wand, on the pulse of its connection to him. His thoughts narrowed, every fiber of his being commanding: You’re part of me. No one takes that away.

The wand flared brighter, light slicing through the mist like a blade. The creatures hesitated, just for a moment—but it was enough. Henry surged forward, Elara cackling gleefully behind him. “Go, go, go! Kick their misty butts!”

The tiger-headed serpent hissed and lunged at him, venom dripping from its fangs. Henry threw up his hands, a burst of light erupting from his Hat. The glowing shield materialized just as the serpent struck, its fangs bouncing off with a crackling hiss.

The leader sneered. “You think that will save you?”

The other creatures closed in. The spider with human hands reached for Elara, its pale fingers flexing unnervingly. She spiraled chaotically, her laughter faltering as one hand snagged her wing.

“Elara!” Henry shouted, panic breaking through his focus.

“Still alive!” she called, struggling as the spider pulled her toward the mist. “But if I don’t make it, tell the others I was fabulous!”

Henry’s eyes locked onto the wand, glowing faintly in the leader’s grip. He felt its pulse again, distant but alive, resonating with his heartbeat. “You’re mine,” he whispered fiercely. “No one takes you from me.”

The wand trembled, its light intensifying. The leader’s eyes widened as it grew hotter in his hands, forcing him to loosen his grip. “What are you—no! The mist belongs to me!”