Chapter 4
Ush climbed the stairs with faltering steps, every two steps revealing new horrors. Severed heads lined the stairway, their necks cut clean as if by the sharpest blade. Their mouths moved in unison, chanting sacred verses that vibrated through Ush's skull.
But worse were the memories that came with them. Images flooded Ush's mind. He witnessed their sacrifices, not acts of holy devotion, but final rebellions. They died not to glorify the Creator, but to mock all false piety.
The higher he climbed, the more unbearable it became. By the 38th step, religious sermons began echoing from the walls themselves, each word stabbing like a hot knife. Something warm trickled from Ush's eyes. Not tears, but thick green mucus that burned his skin like acid.
His hair stood on end, each strand crackling with painful static. His ears throbbed, his eardrums threatening to burst from the unnatural volume.
"No... no... no...!" he wailed, but his voice drowned in the relentless holy clamor. His fingers clawed at the stair walls, leaving bloody trails from torn nails.
He had to keep climbing.
Had to.
Because stopping meant becoming one of those severed heads, joining this endless nightmare.
"Stop, please stop right now."
Ush slammed his trembling body against a bedroom door, forcing it shut with one violent thrust. His breath came in ragged gasps, his heart pounding as if trying to escape his chest. Outside, the distorted voices continued, preaching twisted scriptures through unseen mouths in tones that shattered reason.
His eyes, still leaking green mucus, darted around the room. His father's room. Once a sanctuary, now just a hollow shell of shadows. Without thinking, Ush pushed the massive teak wardrobe, his father's sturdy heirloom, against the door. His feet slipped on the floor slick with sweat and his own strange secretions.
"Can't... can't let them in..." he rasped, straining until the wardrobe stood firmly barricading the door. The wood creaked under pressure, but at least it was a physical barrier.
From beyond the door, small wings fluttered softly. The shadow of an angel appeared beneath the door gap, its light too bright, like cold fire. But more terrifying was its voice:
"You run, but to whom? We're inside you too."
Ush collapsed to the floor, hands over his ears. But the whisper didn't come from outside. It echoed within his own skull, like his own blood turning against him. The wardrobe might block the door, but how could he barricade what had already invaded his mind?
Amid it all, Ush smiled bitterly. This room, once full of memories, was now his last bunker. And he knew physical defenses were illusions. The real battle was within. And it had only just begun.
"Cast it out and destroy. Erase it from the face of the earth!"
"Leave, banish this presence from my being!"
Ush pressed his back to the wall, breath still hitching. Behind the barricaded door, the blaring holy trumpets faded, the once-deafening noise now reduced to faint whispers, like wind rustling dead leaves. Yet this only made his hair stand on end.
"No... they wouldn't just leave," Ush muttered hoarsely.
Then suddenly—
BOOM.
The door trembled violently, struck by something beyond mere physical force. The sound of an exorcism burst from behind the wood, each word slamming into Ush's skull like a sledgehammer.
"AAAAAAAAH!" he screamed, reflexively throwing himself to the floor, hands clutching his ears as thick black fluid began to drip from them. The massive wardrobe shifted a few centimeters, as if pushed by pure soundwaves.
From beneath the door, a white light surged, not a calming glow, but a blinding, scorching glare. Ush could see the shadows of tiny wings dancing behind the door, flapping in rhythm with the exorcism chant.
With trembling legs, Ush crawled backward, three more steps away from the source of the sound. But the room was a box, there was nowhere to run.
"No... no... no..." he whimpered, while something strange stirred in his throat. His voice began to change, growing hoarse and echoing, as if something else was speaking through his vocal cords.
Outside, the holy trumpet blared again, louder, sharper. Ush screamed once more, but his cry was drowned in a false sweetness that made the entire room vibrate.
And it was in that moment he realized—
This wasn't an exorcism.
It was a summoning.
And what they were calling upon... was already inside him.
The wooden wardrobe began to crack.
"Gone? Is that what you call victory?"
"...."
"Haaah... haaah... haaah..."
"Through Him, we all give thanks."
Ush stood, dazed and gasping. The once-deafening sound had faded into whispers of wind, making him all the more alert. His eyes, still stinging, scanned the room and caught the fluttering shadows of small wings at the edges of his vision, quick as illusions, yet undeniably real.
He bent down, one hand braced on the cold floor, and checked under the bed. Nothing. Only dust and darkness.
But as he raised his head—
Swoosh!
A flock of white doves ambushed him from behind, their wings whipping the air into a small storm. Before Ush could react, something cold and heavy was locked around his neck, a circular religious relic engraved with strange symbols that pulsed with a pale glow. It wasn't a cross, but something older, something deeper in meaning.
Ush coughed, fingers clawing at the object as it began to heat up.
Splaaash!
From the ceiling, a surge of bright blue water came crashing down, drenching him from head to toe. The liquid was cold yet searing, leaving marks on his skin like chemical burns.
"Wha— what—?!" Ush sobbed, his entire body trembling violently.
The doves now circled above his head, singing an ancient melody that resembled a burial hymn. The relic around Ush's neck grew tighter, its light piercing through his skin as if trying to burn something from within him.
The realization struck Ush like a physical blow.
This was no rescue.
This was consecration.
And he had become the living altar.
The blue water began its grotesque transformation, shifting from crystalline azure to thick crimson. The color of fresh blood. Of dire warning. Ush screamed, but his voice vanished beneath the swelling chorus of sacred doves - their hymn growing louder, holier...
...and increasingly ravenous.
Agony tore through Ush as the liquid started dissolving him. The once-blue water now ate through his flesh like acid through parchment, unraveling every demonic fiber in his being. Thick black smoke coiled from his writhing body as the angel worked methodically, excising piece after damned piece with ceremonial precision.
The pain became scripture.
The burning turned to revelation.
Each dissolving nerve ending sang verses of purification.
And through the torment, Ush understood the most terrible truth of all - this wasn't destruction.
This was unmaking.
The sacred doves' beaks dripped crimson as they sang.
To be continued...