Jamie stood, barely able to feel his legs. His lungs refused to fill all the way, each breath coming with a sharp stitch in his side. His skin felt tight, wrong, as if he were wrapped in someone else's clothes. Blood soaked the left sleeve of his hoodie. The word WELCOME HOME burned red on his arm, scabbed and jagged. It pulsed with each beat of his heart.
Around him, Bramble Hollow groaned.
The sky above had shifted again—darker now, not just red but bruised purple, like a dead thing left out too long. Shapes flitted in the clouds—vast, birdlike shadows with elongated limbs and gaping mouths. They circled the town like vultures, waiting for something to die.
Jamie staggered forward, past the house that had bled. Its windows were bricked up now, as if it had never existed at all. But the stench still lingered. The scream of the infant echoed in his memory like a broken record.
Sadie's voice haunted his thoughts. Before she— What had she been about to say? Who was she?
The wind picked up suddenly, pushing Jamie toward the east end of town, where the buildings grew thinner and the road narrowed into a gravel path lined with cracked statues. They were human-sized, but wrong. Each statue had a burlap sack over its head, and bloodstains pooled at their feet. Names were etched into their bases, including Jamie's.
He stopped. His name.
JAMES WEAVER. TRAITOR.
He stumbled away from the statue, nearly tripping over a root that hadn't been there seconds before. The ground beneath his feet felt less like pavement and more like something alive—veined, pulsing, resentful.
Ahead, a church loomed.
It hadn't been there before.
The spire was cracked and leaning like a broken finger. Stained glass windows had been replaced with jagged panes of black mirror. Where a cross should have stood, there was instead a massive jawbone affixed to the roof, its yellowed teeth glinting in the dark light.
Something deep within Jamie recoiled. Every nerve screamed at him to turn back.
But his feet carried him forward.
The doors creaked open on their own.
Inside, the pews were lined with mannequins—some headless, some missing limbs, all seated in reverent postures. Candles flickered with green flame. The altar at the front was covered in children's shoes, each pair blackened and wet.
Jamie stepped into the aisle.
The floor groaned beneath him. The mannequins turned their heads in unison.
He broke into a run, sprinting past them toward the altar. As he neared, the pulpit split open down the center like a maw, revealing a staircase spiraling downward into darkness.
The air reeked of copper and bile.
He descended.
The stairs never seemed to end. He walked for what felt like hours, the stone slick beneath his feet. Somewhere far above, the church organ wheezed out a tune, off-key and faltering. The walls grew tighter, curving inward. He had to crouch, then crawl.
Eventually, he emerged into a cavern beneath the church.
It was impossibly vast.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of child-sized cages hung from the ceiling on rusted chains. Some were empty. Some weren't. Inside them, shapes moved, twitching, breathing raggedly. The air buzzed with the sound of chewing.
A choir of voices rose from the shadows:
"He comes, he comes, with guilt in hand— He lied, he cried, he took the stand— Now chew the bones, now drink the sand— She waits, she waits, beneath the land."
Jamie backed against the wall, heart clawing at his ribs.
From the center of the room, a figure emerged.
It wore the robes of a priest, though the fabric was tattered and stained black. Its hands were too many, six in total, two folded in mock prayer while the others dragged long, jagged rosaries across the floor. Its head was an inverted crucifix of flesh—eyes on all four corners, all blinking independently.
It glided toward him.
"You're early," it whispered. Its voice was many—layered, echoing, like a choir speaking through a mouth full of teeth. "But that's good. The feast is nearly ready."
Jamie tried to back away, but his legs buckled.
The priest-thing extended one hand and touched Jamie's forehead.
Visions erupted in his skull.
Sadie. Bound. Buried beneath something—stone, maybe. Her face half-gone, her eyes pleading. Surrounding her were dozens of other children, eyeless and silent, all mouthing the same word:
TRAITOR.
Jamie screamed.
When he opened his eyes, he was lying on a slab. The priest loomed over him, a chalice in one hand. He tipped it—and something thick and warm dripped into Jamie's mouth. It tasted like rust and memories.
He convulsed.
And then he remembered.
He had lied.
Back before Sadie vanished. The night they were dared to go into the old quarry. The night they heard the singing in the cave. Jamie had run. Left her. Told everyone she stayed behind on purpose. That she was fine. That he hadn't seen what grabbed her.
But he had.
He had.
The priest leaned close. "Confess, child. Or she rots alone."
Jamie sobbed. "I lied. I left her. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
The priest caressed his cheek with a hand that reeked of decay. "Too late."
The ground beneath the altar cracked wide.
From the pit rose a creature that defied sanity.
It was made of children—fused together, dozens of them, their limbs twisted into one mass, mouths gaping, eyes bleeding. In the center of the mass was Sadie's face—silent, still sewn shut, but crying black tears.
Jamie could not scream.
The priest raised his arms. "Behold the Forgiveness Maw."
The mass surged forward.
Jamie leapt from the altar, crashing into pews, scrambling for the stairs. He clawed upward, barely noticing the nails tearing from his fingers as he climbed. Behind him, the choir sang louder. The chewing grew nearer.
He burst from the church floor just as the stairs collapsed behind him, swallowed by the abyss. The mannequins all pointed at him. Their mouths opened wide—
And the bells tolled.
Each peal made blood run from his nose.
He ran.
Ran until the church was behind him. Ran until the singing faded. Ran until the pain in his arm made him stop.
He looked down.
New letters carved themselves into his skin, dripping crimson:
ALMOST.
He sobbed, dropped to his knees.
In the distance, a new building rose on the horizon. One that hadn't been there a moment ago.
It looked like a hospital.
And from its broken windows, he could hear Sadie screaming.