The storm outside was relentless, battering against the warehouse as if trying to break through its fragile, decayed walls. The building loomed before us, a husk of brick and rusted metal. Its windows were shattered, their jagged edges like broken teeth grinning down at us. Wind howled through the cracks, filling the interior with a haunting hum that echoed through the vast, empty space.
I stepped inside, boots splashing through pools of rainwater that had already seeped in. The floor was slick, damp with the storm’s fury. The smell of smoke and decay lingered, as though the air itself had absorbed the remnants of past horrors. Morgan followed, his hands in his coat pockets, eyes scanning the room with a casual indifference that I knew belied his sharpness. Still, there was a heaviness to the way he moved, a weariness that seemed to hang over him like the storm outside.
I took a deep breath, the damp air clinging to my lungs. This place was a graveyard, not just for those tourists but for the victims of Vornir and Vornir himself. The walls bore the scars of fire, and I could almost hear the echo of screams buried in the silence.
I pulled my coat tighter around me, walking deeper into the warehouse. My eyes traced over the soot-covered floors, the burned beams that still struggled to hold the building together. Pools of water shimmered in the dull light, reflecting the storm clouds above.
“Here,” I said, crouching down near a pile of charred debris. “It’s a magazine.”
Morgan squinted and took a step closer, pulling out his flashlight. "Police missed it," I continued, brushing away some of the soot and dirt. The edges were singed, but the cover was still recognizable. It was an old tourist pamphlet, the kind that was printed in bulk for visitors looking to immerse themselves in Hollow Town’s creepy charm. The front displayed an ad for local legends, with a headline promising 'authentic rituals' to summon whatever their hearts desired.
"People probably thought they were playing with fire," I muttered, standing up and handing the pamphlet to Morgan. "Literally."
Morgan frowned as he flipped through the pages. "Tourists messing around with a ritual in a haunted warehouse? Not surprising," he said, his voice dry. "But it doesn’t explain why they ended up dead with no signs of foul play. The whole thing’s been written off as some kind of accident. They figure maybe gas poisoning, something the coroner missed. They don’t like to entertain... other possibilities."
I said nothing, but my left forearm began to throb—a sharp, twisting pain right along the wolf scar. I gritted my teeth, biting back a hiss as the sensation intensified. It was like my muscles were trying to rip themselves out of my skin. This place... there was Aether here. I could feel it. It was like the air itself was saturated with the stuff, seeping into the walls, the floor, even the remnants of the people who had died here.
Morgan’s flashlight swept across the room, illuminating the scorched walls. I tried to focus, pushing past the pain, forcing myself to think. Ritual... abandoned warehouse... Aether. The pieces were there, scattered like the debris around us. I just had to fit them together.
The air shifted, and something else hit me—a smell, faint but unmistakable. I frowned, taking in another breath. The smell of rust was everywhere, but beneath it, there was something metallic, sharper. Blood.
"Morgan," I said, straightening up. "Do you smell that?"
He gave me a glance. "The whole place smells like iron and rust. Could’ve picked a better spot to investigate."
"No, this is different. It’s blood."
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. Instead, he followed as I moved toward the far corner of the warehouse, my senses guiding me like a whisper in the back of my mind. The smell was stronger here, but there was nothing obvious. Just a bare patch of floor, no different from the rest of the debris-scattered room. I crouched down again, tracing my fingers over the cold cement. Something wasn’t right.
Morgan watched me with an almost amused curiosity, but I caught the edge of doubt in his eyes. "You sure about this?" he asked, crossing his arms.
"Trust me." I pressed my hand flat against the ground, and there it was—the faintest hollow sound beneath the concrete. I tapped it again, harder this time, and it echoed up through the floor like a distant heartbeat.
Morgan’s expression changed, and I could see the shift from casual doubt to sharp focus. He knelt down beside me, running his fingers over the spot I’d found. "Well, I’ll be damned," he muttered, more to himself than to me. "Looks like you were onto something."
I stepped back, letting him take over. As he carefully peeled away the thin layer of plaster, a narrow, concealed hatch was revealed underneath. It was hidden so well that anyone who wasn’t looking for it would have missed it entirely. Morgan shot me a look, impressed, but there was a question in his eyes—one he didn’t ask.
"How’d you even know this was here?" he finally asked, keeping his voice casual, but I could hear the edge to it.
I shrugged, even though the sharp throb in my arm still pulsed with the presence of Aether. "I guess I just have a nose for these things," I said, deliberately vague. Morgan didn’t push further, but I could tell his curiosity was piqued.
Together, we pried open the hatch, revealing a set of stone stairs leading into the darkness below. The air that drifted up from the basement was stale and thick with the smell of rot. I could feel the weight of the past, pressing down on me as we stared into the abyss.
"Looks like we’ve got more to investigate," Morgan said, his tone carrying the same grim determination that I felt. But as we stood there, staring down into that unknown darkness, I couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever lay beneath us was far worse than we were prepared for.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The basement was colder than I expected, the air damp and heavy with the stench of rot and rusted metal. Every step I took echoed, the sound bouncing off the crumbling walls. The puddles of water on the floor reflected the weak light from Morgan’s flashlight, making everything seem more distorted, more surreal. I tried to focus on the details—cracks in the stone, debris scattered along the ground—but my arm… my arm had other ideas.
It started as a dull throb, a faint reminder of the scar on my forearm, the one that had never fully healed. I’d learned to live with the pain, push it aside when necessary, but today… today it felt different. It was creeping in, slow and steady, like something was pulling at the edges of my skin. I massaged the area, trying to keep the ache at bay, but it only seemed to fuel the fire beneath the surface.
I could feel it. The Aether. It was here. Lingering in the air, pressing against me, almost humming.
"Ellie, you good?" Morgan’s voice cut through the haze, his silhouette pausing ahead of me.
"Yeah," I forced out, though my voice cracked under the weight of the lie.
Morgan didn’t push. He turned back to the wreckage of the basement, the beams barely holding up the weight of what remained of the building. His light scanned the area, but I wasn’t paying attention anymore. The throbbing in my arm was spreading, shooting up from my forearm to my shoulder, like my muscles were trying to tear themselves apart. Each step was harder than the last, my mind clouding over with pain.
I bit down hard, trying to steady my breathing, but the burning was unbearable now. It wasn’t just the scar—it was my whole arm, twisting, writhing, like it was trying to detach from the rest of me.
Then, without warning, it hit me—a sharp, searing bolt of agony, like fire racing through my veins. I stumbled, my vision swimming. The air left my lungs in a violent scream, a sound that tore through the basement, louder than the rumble of the storm outside.
My knees buckled, and I lost my footing on the slick, uneven ground. The pain was all-consuming, drowning out everything else. I couldn’t see straight, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. My body lurched forward, and before I knew what was happening, I slammed into one of the beams. The wood groaned under the impact, splintering with a deafening crack.
The ceiling above us groaned in response.
“Ellie—!” I heard Morgan shout, but it was too late.
The beam gave way, and with it, part of the ceiling collapsed. A wave of dust and debris came crashing down, the whole basement trembling under the weight of it. My body hit the ground hard, pain exploding in my side as the air was knocked out of me. I could barely think, barely breathe. My arm… God, my arm…
Morgan was at my side in an instant, his hands gripping my shoulders, pulling me up.
“Shit,” he muttered, his voice tight with concern. “Ellie, you alright?”
I blinked, trying to push through the haze of pain clouding my mind. My heart was still racing, the scar on my arm burning, but the immediate agony had dulled to a heavy throb. I tried to catch my breath, my chest heaving as I took in the chaos around us. Dust was still settling, and somewhere in the distance, I could hear the wind howling through the cracks of the ruined building.
But there was something else, too—something that had been there all along, but I hadn’t noticed through the pain. A low, eerie whistling, faint but constant, like the sound of air escaping. And then the smell hit me, sharp and chemical, cutting through the dampness of the basement.
"What the hell is that?" Morgan murmured, sniffing the air, his brow furrowing.
It took me a second, but I recognized it. My stomach sank. "Gas," I rasped, my voice barely a whisper. "There’s a gas leak."
Morgan froze, his hand still resting on my shoulder. His eyes flicked toward the sound of the whistling, then back to me. The realization hit him as quickly as it had hit me.
“Well, shit,” he muttered, his voice heavy with the weight of the situation.
“Can you move?” Morgan asked, his voice cutting through the swirling fog of pain still clouding my thoughts.
I nodded, forcing myself to focus, the urgency of our situation cutting through the haze. “Yeah, I think so. We need to get out—now.” The thought of being trapped with a gas leak made my stomach churn, a fresh wave of adrenaline igniting my limbs.
With Morgan's help, I pushed myself up, my body protesting with each movement. The throb in my arm still pulsed like a warning bell, but I couldn’t let it slow me down. We needed to escape before the gas ignited or the building fully collapsed around us.
“Stay close,” he said, guiding me toward the staircase we’d descended. The weak beam from his flashlight flickered across the debris, illuminating the path ahead.
I followed him, my steps unsteady as I leaned heavily against the wall for support. The air grew thicker, and with each breath, I felt the acrid gas prick at my throat. I coughed, the sound echoing painfully in the confined space.
“Ellie, we need to hurry!” Morgan urged, glancing back at me with a mix of urgency and worry. I quickened my pace, determined to push through the discomfort.
As we reached the stairs, the low whistling intensified, the sound echoing ominously through the basement. I felt a shiver crawl down my spine; the noise felt almost alive, weaving through the shadows like a warning.
“Do you have a dime?” Morgan asked, his brow furrowed. “We might need to use a payphone once we’re outside.”
“Yeah,” I replied, my voice strained. “But we’ll have to get to the diner on Main Street; it should have one.”
We made it to the top of the stairs, and I paused, taking a moment to catch my breath. “We should get as far away as possible from the building. If that gas ignites…” I trailed off, the thought hanging heavily between us.
Morgan nodded, his expression serious. “Right. Let’s get outside.”
We pushed through the door, the cool night air washing over us like a lifeline. The chaos of the warehouse faded slightly, but the sound of the wind still howled like a banshee, wrapping around us with its eerie song. I looked back at the building, the shadows dancing ominously under the faint moonlight, and felt the weight of the danger we had narrowly escaped.
Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
“Stay here. I’ll check the car,” Morgan said, his voice steadying as he scanned the area.
“Be quick,” I urged, my heart racing. “We don’t have much time.”
He dashed toward my old sedan parked at the curb, his silhouette flickering in the dim light. I stayed near the entrance of the warehouse, the dampness of the night air mingling with the lingering scent of gas.
Every second felt like an eternity, and I clenched my fists, willing my body to cooperate. The throb in my arm hadn’t subsided; if anything, it was now a reminder of how close I had come to disaster.
Morgan returned, his expression tense. “The engine won’t start,” he said, his voice tight.
I swallowed hard, not knowing my car would break down now of all times. “It’s old. I figured it might be on its last legs,” I admitted, a knot tightening in my stomach.
“Shit,” he muttered. “We’ll have to run to the diner.”
“Right,” I agreed, urgency spurring me forward. “It’s only a few blocks away.”
We turned to leave, but before we could take more than a few steps, the ground trembled slightly beneath our feet. The whistling noise intensified, echoing ominously in the silence of the night.
“Did you feel that?” Morgan asked, his eyes wide.
I nodded, dread pooling in my stomach. “Yeah. We need to move—now.”
With urgency fueling our steps, we raced away from the building, the howling wind pushing against us.
The air around us shifted, a putrid stench curling through the darkness like a serpent. My stomach turned, the smell of gasoline mixing with the dampness of the basement, sending waves of nausea crashing over me. I leaned against Morgan, struggling to keep my footing as the scar on my arm throbbed with an insistent, fiery pain, each pulse making it harder to breathe.
“Ellie, we have to move,” Morgan urged, his voice strained as he scanned the darkened doorway behind us. His eyes darted around, trying to pierce the shadows.
“Can’t…,” I gasped, trying to push myself upright, but the pain radiating from my arm was too much. I swayed on my feet, the world tilting dangerously. I could feel my senses sharpening painfully, the scents around us intensifying, wrapping around me like chains.
The whistling from the basement had transformed into a low, ominous growl, resonating deep within my bones. I had always been attuned to the supernatural, but now it felt like a curse. I pressed my hand to my forehead, desperate to quell the spinning in my mind.
“Ellie!” Morgan’s voice cut through the haze. “We need to go. Now.”
And then, it emerged—a thick, swirling mass of gas, writhing and pulsating as it slithered through the doorway. The creature’s form shimmered with an ethereal light, tendrils reaching out like fingers grasping for us.
Panic surged through me as I staggered backward, the dizziness threatening to swallow me whole. “Morgan!” I cried, my voice shaking as I struggled to remain upright. “It’s—”
Before I could finish, the creature lunged forward, a whirlwind of darkness and stench. Morgan’s instincts kicked in; he stepped in front of me, hands raised, his gun suddenly appearing in his grip. “Get back!” he shouted, pointing the weapon at the swirling mass.
“Be careful!” I warned, though my words felt weak and distant.
He pulled the trigger, the loud bang echoing through the basement, but the bullets only sliced through the gas, disappearing into the void. “Shit!” Morgan cursed, his face pale with fear and frustration. He fired again and again, but each shot felt like a futile gesture against the monstrous form, the bullets vanishing as if they were never fired at all.
“Ellie, we need to get out of here!” His voice trembled, mingling determination with rising panic. The creature’s tendrils lashed out, grazing his arm, and he winced, his grip tightening on the gun.
“Run!” I shouted, desperation fuelling my words as I struggled to move. My body felt heavy, the pain and dizziness overwhelming me, but I couldn’t let him face this alone.
“Stay behind me!” he ordered, his eyes blazing with resolve, even as fear flickered beneath the surface. He fired again, but the gas monster surged forward, absorbing the shots without so much as a flinch.
“Why isn’t it working?” he breathed, horror dawning on his face as the creature pressed closer, its stench suffocating.
“Because it’s not—” I started, but the words died in my throat as the gas twisted, tendrils wrapping around him. “Morgan!”
With a surge of adrenaline, he shoved me aside and aimed the gun once more. “Get back!” he yelled, firing again in a last-ditch effort, but the creature lunged. The darkness engulfed him, and I felt my heart plummet.
“No!” I screamed, my voice lost in the chaos as he fought against the mass, struggling to break free.
In that moment, I could see the glint of the gas monster's tendrils, lunging for him. I screamed again, the sound tearing from my throat as I forced myself to crawl toward him, every movement agony.
“Ellie, run!” he shouted, desperation coating his voice. He turned, stumbling back as the creature lashed out, tearing at his skin. I could see blood mingling with the gas as it spilled from his injured eye.
With one final, defiant roar, Morgan broke free, shouting for me to escape. “Go, Ellie! Get out!”
I staggered into the open air, my legs nearly giving way beneath me. The world spun, and the nausea made my vision swim. I barely registered the cold night air hitting my face before everything went black.
I awoke to a soreness in my muscles unlike anything I had ever experienced. Every movement sent sharp jolts of pain through my body, and my eyelids felt heavy, burning as I forced them open. A cacophony of rain hammered against me; each drop a jarring reminder of my surroundings. Thunder rumbled ominously overhead, shaking the very ground beneath me as I lay in the darkness of the alleyway.
Panic surged within me, a cold grip around my heart, as the memories of what had just happened flooded back. Morgan. The thought jolted me upright, sending fresh waves of pain coursing through my body. My heart raced as I scrambled to gather my thoughts, the remnants of fear clouding my mind.
I squinted into the gloom of the alley, the rain washing away the grime and fear, and then I saw him. Relief flooded over me like a soothing balm, but as I moved closer, it quickly morphed into a suffocating dread. Morgan lay sprawled on the ground, his body a canvas of brutality. His clothes were shredded, hanging in tatters that clung to his skin like memories of a nightmare.
Countless lacerations crisscrossed his body, angry and raw, each one telling a story of pain I couldn’t bear to fathom. My breath hitched in my throat as I took in the sight of his right shoulder, grotesquely dislocated, and the chilling realization that his right eye was gone, a gaping void where life once sparkled.
The rain cascaded down, mingling with the blood that escaped his wounds, swirling toward the nearest drain like a desperate plea for salvation. My pulse thundered in my ears, the panic rising again like bile in my throat. I had to get him to a hospital—now.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” The words tumbled from my lips in a frantic whisper, my mind racing with guilt and fear. I shouldn’t have brought him with me. I shouldn’t have dragged him into this nightmare. I cursed myself, each thought a piercing reminder of my failure.
I dropped to my knees beside him, ignoring the pain shooting through my legs as I grasped his shoulder, the coldness of his skin sending chills through me. “Morgan! Can you hear me?” My voice cracked, desperation lacing every syllable as I gently shook him, praying for a response.
His eyelids fluttered, a faint movement that brought a flicker of hope, but then they settled back into darkness. I fought against the rising tide of fear, forcing myself to think clearly. I needed to act.
The rain continued to fall, drenching us both, washing away my tears as I fumbled to assess his injuries. My hands trembled, slick with rain and blood as I pressed against his wounds, trying to staunch the flow. “Hold on, please,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Just hold on.”
I glanced around, the alleyway twisting into shadows that seemed to close in on me. I needed a plan. I had to get him out of here. I could feel the urgency wrapping around me like a vise, squeezing tighter with each passing second.
But how? I thought frantically, my mind racing through options. The rain had created a small stream in the alley, and I could barely see the street beyond. I’ll drag him to the car. It was my only chance, even if my car was on its last legs.
With a deep breath, I steadied myself, using the wall for support as I maneuvered to get beneath Morgan’s arm. It took everything I had, my muscles screaming in protest, but I managed to slide him closer to me. I positioned him so I could support his weight, every movement a battle against the exhaustion that threatened to pull me under.
“Come on, buddy. You can’t leave me now,” I murmured, willing him to fight, to hold on. I leaned in, my cheek brushing against his damp hair, the taste of salt and rain mingling with the metallic scent of blood. “I need you. We need to get out of here.”
With one final push, I began to pull him toward the mouth of the alley, my heart racing with a mix of fear and determination. The storm raged on around us, but all I could focus on was getting him to safety.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I shoved Morgan into the passenger seat, my hands trembling as I buckled him in. His body slumped against the door, blood still dripping from his wounds. I couldn’t look at his face—at the empty socket where his eye used to be. There was no time to think about that now.
Slamming my door shut, I fumbled with the keys, my heart hammering in my chest as I twisted them in the ignition. The engine sputtered, coughed once, and then died.
“No, no, no… please, not now.” I twisted the keys again. The engine groaned, but it wouldn’t turn over.
Not now!
Panic surged through me. Morgan was bleeding out beside me, and the car was refusing to start. My chest tightened, breaths coming in shallow, ragged gasps as I frantically pumped the gas and turned the key again.
“Come on!” I slammed my fist against the steering wheel, the loud thud barely audible over the storm raging outside. “Come on, damn it! Start!”
The engine coughed again, sputtered, but stayed dead. Rain hammered against the windshield, streaking down in rivulets, distorting everything outside, making it feel like I was trapped in some kind of nightmare.
I slammed my fist again, harder this time. “Please!” My voice cracked, breaking on the word. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Please, just start! Morgan needs—he needs help! I can’t lose him, too!”
Tears blurred my vision, mixing with the rain dripping from my face, and I banged the steering wheel again, harder and harder. “You stupid piece of shit, START!”
For a moment, everything froze. The world outside felt distant—just the sound of the rain and Morgan’s ragged breaths filling the small space of the car. My hands shook as I stared at the dashboard, my pulse pounding in my ears. I couldn’t lose him. I wouldn’t lose him.
I turned the key again, praying, pleading. “Please… Morgan needs you. Please.”
The engine sputtered. Groaned. Then, finally, with a grinding noise, it roared to life.
“Oh, thank God…” Relief flooded through me so fast I almost collapsed against the steering wheel. I wiped at my face, not sure if it was rain or tears.
But I didn’t have time to think. The engine rattled, still threatening to die at any second, but it was running. I slammed the car into gear, tires screeching as I pulled out into the storm-soaked streets.
The hospital wasn’t far. It didn’t matter that the road was barely visible through the rain or that the engine sounded like it might give out any second—I had to get Morgan there. I had to.
I tightened my grip on the wheel, knuckles white as I sped down the empty streets, the rhythmic pounding of my heart matching the sputtering rhythm of the engine. The rain fell harder, a blur of dark, swirling chaos outside, but all I could think about was Morgan. The way his body had gone limp. The way his blood stained the seat.
The hospital lights finally came into view, flickering through the downpour, and I barely slowed as I careened into the emergency lane. I threw the car into park, my hands still shaking as I jumped out, barely able to keep my footing in the rain.
Nurses rushed toward us as I stumbled out of the car, pulling Morgan from the seat. His body was limp, a dead weight in my arms.
"Help! He’s—he’s hurt bad," I gasped, my voice hoarse.
A flurry of hands grabbed Morgan, lifting him onto a gurney as they rushed him inside. I followed, my legs shaking, my clothes soaked and heavy with rain and blood. The harsh hospital lights blinded me for a moment, but I kept moving, kept pushing forward until the nurses shoved me back.
"You can’t come in here," one of them said, her voice firm but not unkind. "Let us work."
I was left standing in the hallway, dripping and dazed, watching them disappear with Morgan through the swinging doors. Time became meaningless. The rain still pounded outside, but in here, it was quiet. Too quiet. My hand unconsciously reached for my forearm, the scar burning beneath my skin—a reminder of the thing still out there.
Minutes passed. Or maybe hours. When the doctor finally emerged, I rushed toward him, my heart in my throat.
"Is he…?" I couldn’t finish the question.
The doctor’s face was sombre, lined with exhaustion. "He’s alive, but barely. His vitals are stable for now, but he’s lost a lot of blood. His right eye… we couldn’t save it. And his shoulder will need extensive surgery." He hesitated, then added, "It’s a miracle he made it this far."
Relief washed over me, but it was thin, brittle. The doctor’s words echoed in my mind, the unspoken possibility that Morgan might never wake up, that I’d dragged him into this, and now he was paying the price.
I thanked him, though I barely heard my own words. He nodded, offering a sympathetic glance before returning to the depths of the hospital, leaving me alone with the weight of my choices.
The hospital lights buzzed overhead, sterile and cold. My heart still raced, but the relief was short-lived, dissolving into a thick, suffocating guilt. Morgan was in there because of me. I had dragged him into my mess, into this twisted world of Aether and monsters. And now…
I pressed my hands against my temples, the pounding in my head matching the burning throb of my scar. It had been flaring up ever since we encountered that… thing. The monster. Still out there, lurking in the ruins, waiting. Growing stronger. And now, I was sitting here, doing nothing while it prowled.
I couldn’t shake the feeling—an itching, gnawing sensation in my chest. The doctors could patch Morgan up, but they couldn’t fight what I’d seen. That was on me. Only I knew the truth about what was out there, and it was still waiting.
I stood abruptly, the metal chair scraping loudly against the linoleum floor. My muscles ached from the strain, and the dizziness crept in as I headed for the exit, but I ignored it. The storm had worsened outside, the wind howling through the alleyways, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was finishing what I’d started.
As I stepped into the cold night, I could still hear the doctor’s words replaying in my mind. A miracle he’s still alive. But I wasn’t feeling miraculous—I was angry, restless. I couldn’t just sit here while the thing that did this to him was out there. If I didn’t stop it now, how many more would it hurt?
The warehouse wasn’t far, the path there etched into my memory. I moved on autopilot, weaving through the rain-slick streets until the building loomed ahead of me. The door hung off its hinges, creaking in the wind, and the stench hit me the moment I stepped inside. The smell of gasoline mixed with something worse—something alive. My stomach turned, and nausea swept over me in waves. The dizziness hit harder now, forcing me to grip the wall just to stay upright. My arm was on fire, searing pain shooting through every nerve as the scar pulsed like it had its own heartbeat.
I shouldn’t be here. I wasn’t ready, but it was too late to turn back.
The Aether pulsed in the air, thick and choking. My vision swam as I pushed forward into the darkness. I could feel it now closer. Hungry. The monster wasn’t just hiding anymore; it was waiting. And I was walking right into its trap.
This time, I was alone. There was no backup, no Morgan to help me. This was on me.
I reached the centre of the warehouse, my breath ragged, each step heavier than the last. The air was electric with the hum of the Aether, and in the shadows, I could see it—a massive, shifting shape, barely more than a gas in the dark, but alive. It moved, slow and deliberate, feeding on the very air around it. Feeding on me.
My heart raced as I clenched my fists, the pain in my arm intensifying. But I had to end this. Before it grew any stronger.
I took a step forward, ready to fight.