“Henry!” Elara’s voice rang out, cutting through the haze of pain. She darted toward him, her glow dimmer but no less insistent. “Move, you idiot! Don’t just stand there bleeding!”

With a groan, Henry forced himself upright, ignoring the sharp protests of his body. He gritted his teeth and raised the Wand, channeling everything he had left. The mist obeyed his desperation, thickening in the air before twisting into familiar forms. Another wave of abomination babies clawed their way into existence, their cries piercing the chaos. The eyeless bats followed, their skeletal wings slicing through the air as they dove at the guardian.

The swarm descended, biting, clawing, and tearing into the guardian’s shifting form. It stumbled under the onslaught, thrashing wildly to rid itself of the relentless creatures. Henry’s breathing was labored, but the precious seconds bought by the distraction gave him a moment to steady himself.

The reprieve didn’t last.

The guardian reared back, its many faces contorting in unison as a pulse of dark energy erupted from its core. The wave of power swept through the cavern, enveloping everything in an oppressive, suffocating shadow. Henry staggered as the air around him grew heavy, his mind suddenly flooded with horrifying visions.

“Sarah,” he whispered, his voice trembling. In his mind’s eye, he saw her—lost, terrified, and drenched in tears. Her small hands clutched at empty air, her voice breaking as she screamed, “Why did you leave me? Why didn’t you save me?”

Guilt surged through him, a tidal wave of emotion that threatened to drown him. He sank to his knees, his strength crumbling beneath the weight of her words. The image of Sarah twisted, her tear-streaked face contorting into something monstrous and accusing.

“This is your fault,” she hissed, her voice sharp and venomous. “You’re too weak to protect anyone. You’ll always fail.”

Henry’s chest tightened, his breath coming in shallow gasps. The cavern around him dissolved into darkness as the hallucination consumed him. He reached for the Wand, but his fingers trembled, too weak to grasp it.

“Elara…” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

The glow of the fairy flickered into view, her eyes wide and glittering with something wild and manic. “Henry,” she cooed, her voice lilting like a nursery rhyme sung just off-key. “Are you having fun down there? All curled up, shaking like a broken toy? Very dramatic. A real performance.”

Her words spiraled around him, nonsensical and sharp, fragments of thought cutting like broken glass. The guardian loomed closer, its grotesque form pulsating in the dim light, but Elara didn’t seem to notice—or didn’t care.

But with a sudden, jerking motion, she spun toward the beast, a grin splitting her face. “You there! Big, ugly, squishy thing! Did no one teach you manners?” she screeched, her voice continuing the unsettling sing-song . “We’re busy! Shoo, shoo! Or do you want me to break all your wittle bones?”

She cackled, raising a hand, and a cascade of golden light erupted from her fingertips. The spell wrapped the guardian in shimmering tendrils, lifting it effortlessly into the air. It writhed and bellowed, its grotesque form twisting against the magic. Elara’s laughter rang out, high and piercing. “Look at you wriggle! Like a fish caught on a hook. Does it hurt? It should!”

Henry’s hand hovered inches above the jagged stone, trembling as the world around him twisted and warped. The cold bite of the stone beneath his fingers wavered, replaced by the soft, tear-streaked image of Sarah’s face. The cavern flickered in and out of existence—dark, damp walls giving way to the memory of her room, her small, trembling hands reaching for him, her voice breaking as she said, “I waited for you, Henry. You promised you’d come back.”

His chest tightened as the hallucination pulled him deeper, the echo of her words louder than the chaos around him. For a fleeting moment, he was back with her, the air heavy with her despair. Then the rocky cave forced its way back into focus—the jagged ground beneath his fingers biting into his skin, the damp chill seeping through his clothes.

But the image of Sarah wouldn’t relent. Her tear-streaked face shifted, her expression hardening into something cold and distant. Her voice dropped, sharp and unforgiving: “You let me down. You always let me down.” Her presence loomed over him, her shadow mingling with the suffocating darkness of the cavern.

Then came the slap. Sharp, stinging, and jarring. Henry’s head jerked up, his vision clearing to find Elara inches from his face, her tiny hand still raised, her iridescent glow blazing like a wildfire.

“There he is!” she chirped, her grin stretched wide and unsettling. “Oh, good. For a second, I thought I’d have to peel your soul off the floor myself. Do you know how messy that is? Sticky. Very sticky. This is the second time in as many days I've almost had to play the puddle game.”

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Her wings buzzed furiously as she darted around him, words tumbling out in a frantic, erratic rush. “So, here’s the thing, Henry: this big ugly? It doesn’t care if you’re scared. It doesn’t care if you’re guilty. It doesn’t give a damn about your sad little breakdown. In fact, it feeds on all that—like a starving man at an all-you-can-eat Vegas buffet.”

She zipped closer, her grin sharpening into something far more cruel. “But you know who does care? Me. Because you’re wasting my time.”

Before he could respond, she grabbed his collar with both hands. For someone so small, her grip was iron-strong. She shook him as hard as her tiny frame allowed, her voice cutting like broken glass. “You want to cry about your sister? Fine! Do it later! You want to collapse into a puddle of self-pity? Great, Do it on your own time! After the whole hospital arc, did you learn nothing? You move! You hear me? Move your stupid legs!”

Her words struck something deep inside him, something buried beneath fear and exhaustion. Henry staggered to his feet, his body moving as though on autopilot, a second wind surging through his veins. He didn’t know where the energy came from, but he ran. His breath came in ragged gasps as his eyes darted around the cave walls, desperate to retrace his steps. The twisting corridors all blurred together, each turn looking more and more unfamiliar.

“Elara!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “I don’t know where to—”

“Henry, stop!” Elara’s voice cut through his panic like a blade. She zipped in front of him, her wings a blur of irritation. “You’re going the wrong way, you moron!”

“What?!”

“Wrong. Way.” Elara jabbed a finger back the way he’d come, her voice dripping with theatrical exasperation. “Do you have a death wish, Henrikkins? Because I’m this close to letting you find out what the inside of a monster feels like! Turn around and—ugh, never mind!” She zipped ahead, wings buzzing furiously, and her voice floated back, sharp and rapid like a hail of darts. “My spell’s on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Follow me, follow me, FOLLOW ME!”

Henry sprinted after her, his mind racing. They rounded the corner, and what he saw stopped him dead in his tracks. The monster hung in the air, strung up like a grotesque puppet on unseen strings. Its limbs twitched and jerked as if it were struggling against a web, while the faint glow of Elara’s spell crackled around it like a glitching force field.

“Oh no, no, no, bad beastie,” Elara sang out, her tone lilting like a twisted lullaby. “You don’t get to leave the stage yet. I’m still the star of this show, and you’re my lovely assistant—scream for me!” She threw her hands up dramatically, and the energy around the monster flared, but Henry could hear the strain in her voice, see the way her wings flickered like a sputtering flame.

He stared at her, a mix of awe and uncertainty bubbling in his chest. The sheer power she wielded was undeniable. But still, that nagging doubt clawed at him. What side is she even on?

“HEY!” Elara snapped, not turning around but somehow knowing exactly what he was thinking. “Stop standing there like a big dumb rock and DO SOMETHING! Unless you want this thing to eat my spell and then eat us because that’s how this goes if you don’t use the wand!”

Her voice cracked into a manic laugh as she added, “Oh, wouldn’t that be hilarious, though? A real tragicomedy—‘The Hero Who Forgot To Hero.’” She wobbled midair, her light flickering. “Oopsie-doodles. Spell’s gonna go pop soon, Henrikkins. Your turn!”

Henry jolted into action, her erratic energy finally shoving him out of his hesitation. He gripped the Wand of Arraiza tight and ran toward the suspended monster, every nerve screaming at him to hurry.

He raised the wand high, its dull surface humming faintly as he poured his focus into it. “Come on,” he muttered through gritted teeth, urging it to react. “Work. Just work!”

“Oh, goodie!” Elara cackled. “He’s figuring it out! Tick-tock, Henrikkins. Suck the mist! Slurp it up like spaghetti! Go, go, GO!”

The mist surrounding the monster began to shift, swirling toward the wand in wispy tendrils. The creature let out a guttural roar, its struggles slowing as the wand drew power from it. Henry’s arm burned, his grip trembling under the intensity, but he didn’t falter.

Suddenly, the wand flared with a blinding light, and the monster gave one final, violent shudder before its form dissolved into the mist, leaving behind an eerie silence.

Henry stumbled back, panting, the wand still glowing faintly in his hand. Elara darted closer, her face a mixture of gleeful triumph and wide-eyed intensity. “Oh, bravo! Bravo!” she cheered, clapping her tiny hands like an unhinged conductor. “Henrikkins, you’ve finally upgraded from completely useless to almost useful! My little fledgling hero is growing up.”

Henry shot her a weary glare, his chest heaving. “You’re insane.”

“Yes, and you love it!” she chirped, spinning in the air before zipping ahead.