I didn’t wait for the rain to stop.

The storm pounded against the roof of the warehouse, rain hammering down in a constant torrent. I pushed the door open and stepped into the dim, stinking gloom. The smell hit me like a wall—the thick, nauseating stench of gasoline that clung to my skin and filled my lungs. My head swam for a moment, but I shook it off. I had fought worse. I’d survived worse.

I could still feel the Aether pulsing inside me, coursing through my veins. My body ached, but I knew I was stronger now—tougher, more durable. If I could take down Richard Haverstead, I could take this thing down too.

The gas swirled in the corner of the room, a shapeless, formless mass that flickered in the low light. I gritted my teeth, fingers tightening around the cold metal pipe I’d picked up off the floor. Bullets were useless. I’d seen that already. But I wasn’t done yet.

With a snarl, I charged.

The pipe swung through the air, slamming into the mass with a dull thud. For a second, I felt resistance—like I’d struck something solid—but then it passed, and the gas recoiled, swirling and reforming. I didn’t stop. I hit again, then again, every blow landing with a fierce determination.

The creature hissed, its form vibrating, shuddering with each strike. I dodged as it lashed out, barely avoiding the billowing tendrils of gas that whipped through the air. My feet splashed in the puddles on the floor, the smell of gasoline growing stronger with each step, but I pressed forward. I had to stay on the move. If I slowed down, if I stopped… it would be over.

I swung the pipe again, this time hitting harder. The gas monster recoiled, its mass shrinking for a moment, pulling back as though in pain. A surge of hope flickered through me.

It could be hurt.

I ducked behind a stack of old crates, catching my breath, my heart hammering in my chest. I could hear it moving, the faint hiss of the gas filling the room, but I stayed low, gripping the pipe tightly. The storm outside howled, wind rattling the windows, but the only sound I focused on was the hiss of the creature.

I rolled out from my cover and swung the pipe again, slamming it into the gas. This time, the mass split apart, dispersing in a cloud before reforming. The creature writhed, its shape less solid, the swirling gas flickering as though it was struggling to maintain form.

I pressed the advantage, driving the pipe forward again and again. The metal felt heavy in my hands, but I didn’t stop. The warehouse rang with the sound of my strikes, each one more desperate than the last.

The gas monster recoiled, shrinking, but then something changed. The air grew thicker, colder, and suddenly, I felt it—a pull deep in my chest, like something was tugging at my very core. My movements slowed, my limbs growing heavier. I gasped, stumbling back.

It was feeding.

I looked down at my hands, the pipe trembling in my grip. My skin had grown pale, and my breath came in short, laboured bursts. The monster wasn’t just hitting back—it was draining me, siphoning the very life from my body.

“No…” I muttered, shaking my head. “No, not like this.”

But the more I fought, the tighter the grip became. I could feel it, tugging at the edges of my consciousness, pulling at my strength. My knees wobbled, and I staggered back, bracing myself against the cold, damp wall. The stench of gasoline was overpowering now, burning my lungs with every breath. My vision blurred, the edges darkening, but I fought to stay on my feet.

“I can still… fight…”

I raised the pipe again, forcing myself to swing, to hit the creature one more time. It shuddered, recoiling, but the pull on my life force didn’t stop. If anything, it grew stronger. I could feel it feeding on me—on my Aether.

But I wasn’t done yet. I couldn’t be.

“If I can just… hurt it enough,” I whispered through gritted teeth. “If I can just hit it harder than it can heal, I can win.”

I summoned every last drop of Aether I had left, ignoring the searing pain in my arm as I drove it into my body. The power surged through me, my muscles burning, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. With a scream, I swung the pipe as hard as I could, aiming for the centre of the swirling gas.

The blow connected, and for a split second, the creature flickered, its form wavering. The gas shrank, pulling back, but then it surged forward, stronger than ever.

It was feeding on my Aether.

I stumbled back, my heart hammering in my chest, the realization hitting me like a punch to the gut. I wasn’t weakening it—I was making it stronger. Every time I used the Aether, it fed on me, growing more powerful, more dangerous.

The gas swirled faster, the tendrils of smoke curling through the air, wrapping around me like a noose. My breath came in shallow gasps, my body trembling, the world spinning around me. I could feel the life draining from me, the strength leaving my limbs, but still, I fought to stay standing.

I swung the pipe again, but my movements were sluggish now, my body weak. The creature didn’t even flinch this time. It had grown too strong.

My legs gave out, and I collapsed to the floor, the pipe slipping from my hands with a clatter. The gas monster loomed above me, its form towering, the swirling mass of smoke pulsing with newfound strength. My vision blurred, and for a moment, I thought I saw faces in the gas—twisted, warped faces, the same ones I’d seen on the tourists’ bodies.

It was feeding on them too.

And now it was going to feed on me.

The pull on my chest tightened, a cold, unrelenting grip that gnawed at my insides. I tried to move, tried to crawl away, but my limbs wouldn’t respond. Every muscle in my body screamed in pain, my Aether burning like fire, but it was no use. The monster had me.

My vision blurred, darkness creeping into the edges of my sight. I could barely keep my eyes open, barely draw breath. The sound of my heartbeat, weak and uneven, echoed in my ears. The gas monster loomed above me, its formless shape swirling and flickering, feeding on every last drop of strength I had left.

I tried to reach for the pipe—tried to push myself to fight just a little longer—but my fingers twitched uselessly, the cold seeping into my bones.

No. No, this couldn’t be the end. Not like this.

My mind raced, frantic for a solution, for anything that could get me out of this. But there was nothing left. The Aether had carried me this far, and now… now it was killing me.

The faces in the gas became clearer now, twisted in agony. They weren’t just tourists. They were lost souls—trapped, twisted, and consumed by the same thing that was devouring me. I was next. I could feel it, my life force slipping away, my body breaking under the weight of the Aether.

I screamed, or tried to. Nothing came out.

The gas monster shifted, its form expanding as if it had fed enough. It wasn’t done with me, not yet, but I could see it changing, growing more solid, more… aware. I felt it shift its focus, the pull on my chest loosening just enough for me to take in a shuddering breath.

And that’s when I saw it. The gas—the whole room was filled with it, thicker now, pressing in from all sides, like a storm cloud building, ready to burst. The creature was no longer confined. It had fed on me, taken what it needed, and now it was free.

The walls of the warehouse groaned, the gas seeping through cracks in the bricks, curling around broken windows, spilling out into the streets. Panic surged through me, cold and sharp, piercing through the fog in my mind.

I had made it stronger. I had let it out.

I had failed.

“No…” I croaked, my voice barely a whisper. “No, not… like this…”

The gas monster shrieked, a high-pitched, keening sound that rattled my skull. I could feel it reverberate through the building, through the very air, as if the creature was rejoicing in its newfound freedom. It began to move, slow at first, but then faster, swirling toward the open doorway, toward the city.

I tried to crawl, tried to reach out, but my body was too weak. I was fading. I could feel the darkness closing in, the weight of my exhaustion pressing down on me. My breath came in shallow gasps, my chest tight.

As the last of the gas slipped through the door, the warehouse grew still. The monster was gone, and so was my strength.

The faces were still there, haunting me, the twisted, agonized expressions of the lost. I could still hear them whispering, their voices faint but insistent, calling me to join them.

I couldn’t.

I wouldn’t.

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With the last bit of strength I could muster, I rolled onto my back, staring up at the broken ceiling, the rain still hammering down outside. My eyes burned, and my chest heaved, but I forced myself to breathe, forced myself to hang on.

I had failed to stop it. I had let it out. But I wasn’t done yet.

The monster was out there now, free to wreak havoc, and it was my fault.

The world felt distant, like I was slipping into some dark corner of my mind where nothing could reach me. My body was a wreck, my limbs like lead, and the only thing keeping me tethered to consciousness was the rain pounding against my face. It felt cold, distant, like it wasn’t even hitting my skin. My vision was blurry—shadows and shapes swirled around me, but I couldn't make sense of any of it.

I tried to focus, tried to breathe, but each breath rattled in my chest, shallow and weak.

Then, I heard a voice. At first, it was faint—like an echo—but it grew louder, more frantic, cutting through the fog.

"Ellie! Ellie, can you hear me?"

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even muster the strength to respond. My throat was too dry, my body too weak. But the voice—Nancy's voice—was there, louder now, insistent.

“Ellie! No, no, please—come on!”

I felt hands on me, shaking me, and then her face came into view, eyes wide with terror, rain streaking down her face. She looked like she'd seen a ghost.

“Ellie, stay with me, okay? You have to stay with me,” she pleaded, her voice trembling as she crouched beside me, her hands running over my body, searching, desperate to assess the damage.

I wanted to tell her to stop—to tell her I was fine, that I could handle this. But I wasn’t fine. I wasn’t handling anything. My body was a wreck, and I was slipping away, no matter how hard I fought against it.

“Nancy...” I croaked, the sound barely a whisper, lost in the rain. I wasn’t sure if she even heard me.

“Shit, shit!” She muttered, her hands moving to cup my face, trying to keep me conscious. “Ellie, look at me. You’re not dying, okay? You’re not dying.”

Her voice was cracking, betraying the panic she was trying to hide. I could see it in her eyes—she didn’t know what to do.

I tried to move, to sit up, but my body refused. Pain shot through my side, so sharp it knocked the wind out of me. I gasped, my vision darkening for a second. Nancy’s grip tightened on my shoulders, and she shook me again, more forcefully this time.

“No, you don’t get to pass out on me!” she yelled, her voice breaking. “I’m getting you out of here, you hear me? Just stay with me, Ellie, please!”

I could feel her hands trembling, could hear the quiver in her voice. She wasn’t just scared—she was terrified. I wasn’t sure if it was because of what she saw in the warehouse or because of how broken I looked now. Maybe both.

I couldn’t answer her. My mouth wouldn’t form words. All I could do was let my head roll against her arm, the world around me spinning in and out of focus.

Nancy’s breath hitched as she struggled to pull me up, grunting from the effort. I was dead weight in her arms, my legs dragging behind me as she tried to get me on my feet. Her voice was shaky, and I could hear the strain in her breathing. She wasn’t strong enough for this, but she wasn’t stopping either.

“Come on, damn it!” She groaned, practically dragging me across the slick pavement, the rain soaking both of us as she tried to move me toward her car. “Just a little farther, Ellie. I’ve got you.”

The pain was unbearable. Each step, each movement felt like fire shooting through my veins, but Nancy wasn’t giving up. She was talking, muttering words of encouragement, but they blurred together in my ears, drowned out by the rain and the thunder.

When we reached her car, she fumbled with the door, her hands slippery with rain and sweat. She was shaking—whether from panic or exhaustion, I couldn’t tell—but she managed to open it, easing me into the passenger seat.

I slumped back, my head lolling against the seat, barely able to keep my eyes open. My heart pounded weakly in my chest, each beat slower than the last. I felt... hollow. Like the fight had drained everything from me. Like the monster had taken more than just my strength.

“Stay with me,” Nancy whispered again, climbing into the driver’s seat, her voice breaking. “I’m taking you to the hospital, but you have to stay with me, okay?”

I couldn’t answer. I could barely keep my eyes open. But I could hear the panic in her voice, the desperation. She was afraid of losing me.

And that scared me.

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The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the first thing I heard when I came to. My body felt heavy, anchored to the bed by exhaustion and pain, but the soft glow of hospital lights overhead told me I was alive. Barely. The sterile scent of antiseptic hung in the air, cutting through the dull ache that pulsed behind my eyes. I tried to move, but even the slightest shift sent sharp jolts through my muscles, reminding me just how close I’d come to the edge.

The TV in the corner of the room flickered with muted images, and my gaze slowly drifted to the screen. A headline scrolled across the bottom: "Massive gas leak causes explosion, fire still raging in industrial zone."

I stared at it, my chest tightening as I watched footage of black smoke rising into the sky, flames licking the sides of warehouses, fire trucks barely making a dent in the chaos. The industrial district was engulfed, the same place I had just barely escaped. The same place where I had failed.

My hand clenched around the bedsheet, the memories of the fight flashing through my mind. The monster, feeding off the gasoline fumes, growing stronger with every swing of the pipe, every ounce of Aether I used. I’d thought I could stop it. I’d thought I was enough.

I was wrong.

The news anchor’s lips moved, but I couldn’t hear the words. The fire was spreading, lives were at stake, and it was my fault. I’d unleashed it. The guilt weighed heavier than the bruises on my skin.

A soft knock on the door pulled me from the whirlwind of my thoughts. I turned my head slowly, every movement a struggle. Nancy stood in the doorway, her face pale and tight with worry. She looked like she hadn’t slept, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen.

“Ellie,” she whispered, stepping inside the room, relief flooding her face when she saw me awake. “Thank God.”

I didn’t respond, just watched as she came closer, her eyes darting over my bandaged arms, my bruised face, the IV hooked into my hand. She sank into the chair beside the bed, her breath unsteady as she took in the state I was in.

“They told me it was a miracle you made it,” Nancy said softly, her voice breaking. “You were... you looked so—” She stopped herself, biting her lip as she blinked back tears.

I swallowed, the dryness in my throat making it hard to speak. “I’m fine,” I rasped, though we both knew it was a lie.

Nancy’s hand reached out to rest gently on my arm, her touch light as if she was afraid of hurting me further. “Ellie, what happened?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, the fear and confusion evident.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. The truth was too heavy to put into words, too dangerous to speak aloud. She didn’t need to know. Not yet.

Instead, I turned my gaze back to the TV, where the flames still roared, tearing through the heart of the industrial district. The camera panned over rows of warehouses, some already reduced to rubble, others barely standing. The fire was still ongoing, the damage growing worse with every passing minute.

Nancy followed my gaze, her lips pressing into a thin line. “They’re saying it was a gas leak,” she murmured, though there was doubt in her voice. “But...”

She trailed off, waiting for me to fill in the gaps. I stayed silent, the weight of the truth pressing down on me like a boulder. The guilt gnawed at me, but I couldn’t tell her. Not now. Maybe not ever.

Nancy sighed, running a hand through her tangled hair. “You’ve been out for hours. I—I didn’t know if...” Her voice cracked again, and she quickly wiped at her eyes, composing herself. “The doctors say you’re lucky to be alive.”

Lucky.

If only she knew the truth—that I wasn’t the only one. That I’d barely survived, and in doing so, had set loose something far worse. The monster was out there now, feeding on the chaos, and I had no idea how to stop it.

Nancy sat back in the chair, watching me with a mixture of concern and frustration, waiting for me to say something. Anything. But the words were stuck in my throat, trapped beneath the weight of my failure.

Hours, I’ve been here for hours. The city is being destroyed and people are suffering. I can’t afford to stay in the hospital. I need to fix the problem that I caused. But how? What can I do?

“Luther told me to remind you not to push yourself,” Nancy’s voice cuts through the haze, a chuckle breaking the tension in the air. “I guess it’s too late to tell you that, huh?”

Luther, that’s right! He knows about Aether and clearly has more knowledge than he’s letting on. I can’t do this alone. But perhaps with his help, we can put a stop to this madness. I just need to get out of the hospital and meet him first.

As I attempt to rise from the hospital bed, the intense burning sensation in my chest feels like fire coursing through my veins, reminding me of how much I have pushed myself past my limits. The blanket, once comforting, now feels impossibly heavy, weighing me down as if it were made of lead. I grit my teeth, willing my body to move, but it refuses to obey.

Each breath is a struggle, sharp and jagged, and my heart races with both fear and frustration. I catch fleeting sounds of chaos outside—sirens wailing, distant screams, and the ominous roar of fire—each noise a stark reminder of the destruction spreading through New Hollow. My gut twists at the thought of what’s happening, of the lives that might be lost because I couldn’t act in time.

I can’t just lie here, helpless. The vision of the gas monster, lurking and feeding off the chaos I unleashed, drives me to push through the pain. I can almost hear its laughter, echoing in the dark corners of my mind. The weight of my failures bears down on me, and a surge of desperation ignites a flicker of resolve.

But as I brace myself to rise, the pain floods my senses, anchoring me back to reality. I know I must wait, even if every second feels like an eternity in agony. My body may be weak, but my mind races, plotting the moment I can finally escape this bed and seek out Luther’s knowledge. I won’t let this monster win—not now, not ever.

I lay in the hospital bed, the minutes ticking by like hours.

Nancy had left to grab a cup of coffee, promising to be back soon, but as the time stretched on, I found myself increasingly restless. The rhythmic beeping of the machines around me became a monotonous soundtrack to the chaos outside.

Through the window, I caught glimpses of the world beyond—the emergency vehicles lined up, their sirens wailing, the frantic rush of nurses and doctors. The air was thick with tension, and the palpable sense of urgency only deepened my anxiety.

Hours passed.

I could hear the commotion from the waiting area, voices rising and falling in a chaotic blend of fear and urgency. Each cry, each shout, each whispered prayer felt like a weight pressing down on my chest. I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the noise, but it only grew louder, more insistent.

As I lay there, an overwhelming realization hit me: the hospital was flooded with patients. People were suffering—some were likely here because of the monster I had set loose. The weight of guilt washed over me, filling my veins with ice.

I couldn’t just lie here. How could I allow myself to rest while others were fighting for their lives because of my recklessness?

A sharp pain flared in my chest, but I barely noticed. Instead, I pushed against the sheets, the effort sending another wave of pain coursing through me. I needed to move, needed to do something.

I threw the blanket off and swung my legs over the side of the bed, but they felt like lead. My body protested, every muscle screaming in agony, but the cries of those outside fuelled my resolve. I took a deep breath, focusing on the chaos beyond the door—the wails, the panic. I could feel their pain, their desperation, seeping into me.

“No, I won’t let this continue,” I muttered under my breath, the words a vow.

I glanced around the room, my heart racing. I couldn’t wait any longer. I couldn’t allow myself to be a part of the problem, a burden to those who were trying to save lives.

I staggered to my feet, the world tilting as I did so, and I grasped the edge of the bed for support. I had to escape.

But how? I scanned the room for a possible route, my mind racing. The door was my obvious exit, but I needed a plan to avoid drawing attention.

As I leaned against the wall, listening to the distant sounds of chaos outside, I felt a surge of determination. I would not allow my weakness to be the reason others suffered. I had to act, and that meant breaking out of this hospital.

I steadied myself, focusing on each breath, and pushed forward. The pain throbbed through me, but it felt secondary to the urgency of the situation. I was ready to fight back against the chaos I had unleashed.