Ezra barely had time to react before Amara's voice cut through the chaos, sharp with urgency.
"Move! Turn around! The Rift hasn't closed yet!"
The others caught her panic instantly. Arms flailed, frantic gestures pointing toward Dane and Rook—still grinning, still oblivious to the nightmare unfolding behind them.
"What? I can't hear you!" Dane called back, tapping his ears with an amused frown. "Rook's blast messed up my hearing! What are you saying?"
Ezra felt his stomach drop.
The Rift pulsed violently.
The wound in reality that should have sealed itself instead swelled—churning, twisting—before ripping back open, as if something monstrous had refused to stay on the other side.
Then—hands.
Two enormous, gnarled hands punched through the tear, slick with black Aether, each twisted claw digging into the edges of the Rift as they tore it wider.
An ear-splitting shriek rattled the sky.
The ground trembled beneath their feet.
Dane and Rook turned—just in time to see the thing crawl through.
It was unlike anything Ezra had ever seen.
A haunting, otherworldly creature, its pale, membrane-like flesh stretched tight over an elongated frame, too thin, too unnatural. Silken wings unfolded slowly, rippling like a curtain of translucent death.
But its face—
Its face was a nightmare.
No features. Just a wide, hollow grin splitting its smooth, expressionless head far too wide.
Long, pointed ears twitched.
It had no eyes. Yet it was watching. Searching. Hunting.
A whip-like tail slithered behind it, curling and coiling as the creature fully emerged, towering over the battlefield.
And then—
Everything stopped.
The world fell into absolute silence.
No wind.
No voices.
No gunfire.
Not even the sound of his own heartbeat.
Ezra staggered back, hands clamping over his ears. But it didn't matter.
The silence wasn't from outside—it was inside him. Forced into his bones.
A cold, unbearable dread sank into his chest, heavier than anything he had ever felt before.
Ahead, Dane and Rook stood frozen, trembling, their bodies locked in terror as the creature's silent presence smothered them like a shroud.
And still—
It grinned.
Unmoving.
Unblinking.
Waiting.
It reached out, long and skeletal, its fingers moving with slow, deliberate ease.
Ezra tried to shout, to warn them, to move—
But his voice was gone.
The creature's massive hand closed around both Dane and Rook in a single, effortless motion.
The sound of bones grinding echoed through the dead air.
They struggled—thrashing, clawing, gasping—but the thing didn't even flinch.
It just stood there.
Silent.
Smiling.
Then—a scream.
Tess collapsed.
A strangled, broken wail tore from her throat as she clutched her head, blood streaking from her nose, her ears, the corners of her mouth.
She was shaking—violently.
Her small frame trembled, her nails digging into her scalp as if she were trying to hold something back.
Ezra gasped, his breath finally returning.
The spell—it had broken.
His mind snapped back into place, the suffocating terror loosening just enough for him to move. Around him, the others staggered, gasping, sweat-drenched, trembling.
Irene was the first to react.
She was at Tess's side in seconds, grabbing her by the shoulders, shaking her desperately.
"Tess! Stop! You're killing yourself!"
But Tess didn't respond.
Blood dripped freely now, running down her chin, staining the ground beneath her as her body convulsed under the strain.
Ezra snapped his gaze back to Dane and Rook.
Their eyes flickered, blinking rapidly as they shook off the trance.
But it was too late.
They gasped for air, kicking, clawing, desperately trying to pry themselves free—but the creature didn't budge.
Its grip tightened.
And then—
The silence deepened.
The creature tilted its head.
And squeezed.