Time moved like a fog.
The hallway outside Room 306 had fallen into a dead silence, the kind that wrapped around your neck and whispered,
"Don't breathe too loudly."
Inside, the lights had dimmed to a faint amber hue—low enough to forget the world, but bright enough to remember fear.
Fox lay still on the hospital bed, sweat beading across his forehead.
His breathing was uneven, like the rhythm of a broken lullaby.
Vixen sat by his side, her hand gripping a chain of iron beads that Am had given her.
Each bead had been soaked in saltwater and sealed with wax from a burned prayer scroll.
Click. Click. Click.
The second hand of the wall clock ticked toward the number twelve.
03:00.
The room dropped a degree colder.
The shadows stretched unnaturally along the floor.
And then—
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Three soft knocks.
Vixen froze. Her fingers stopped counting the beads.
She turned toward the door.
"Fox…" came a voice—her voice.
No. Not her own.
But something that mimicked her voice so perfectly it scraped at her sanity.
"Fox, it's me. Open up, please. I'm scared… they left me in the hallway…"
Fox stirred. His eyes fluttered beneath their lids.
His mouth opened—
"Vi…xen…"
Another knock. But this time, from the window.
She spun toward it. There, pressed against the glass,
was her own face.
But the eyes—those weren't hers.
They were endless black, shimmering with hunger.
"You said you'd take care of him," the reflection whispered, mouth unmoving.
"Then let me in."
The lights flickered.
Fox's body began to tremble—
His chest rising and falling too fast.
His hands clenched the sheets until his knuckles went white.
Vixen stood up, shaky, unsure. She backed away from both door and window.
Suddenly—a voice from behind her.
"You promised her, didn't you?"
Fox was sitting up.
But it wasn't Fox anymore.
His head tilted slowly, too slowly. His eyes were wide open now—black veins stretching across his cheeks.
And then he smiled.
"Lilia says it's time."
⸻
Before she could scream, the door burst open—
But it wasn't Lilia.
It was Annie, stepping in with a circle of crushed obsidian in her hand, glowing faintly blue.
Behind her, Am was chanting—words in a tongue that twisted the air itself.
Vixen dropped to her knees.
"She's here," she choked out. "She wore my voice. My face. She tried to get in."
"She didn't," Annie said coldly, kneeling beside her. "And that's why we still have a chance."
They turned to Fox.
He was now floating an inch off the bed.
Fox levitated two feet above the bed, his body arched backward, dark veins crawling across his skin like cursed roots.
From the corner of the ceiling, Lilia appeared—drifting like smoke woven into the shape of a woman.
Her face was still Vixen's. Her voice was still hers.
But her presence felt like something older than death and twice as bitter.
"You swore yourself to me, Fox," she hissed.
"Then you ran back to her. How… predictable."
Fox groaned, his mouth moving against his will.
Ancient words spilled from his lips like broken glass.
⸻
Before the room could tear open entirely, two figures burst in.
Annie kicked the door open with the force of someone who had definitely done this more than once.
She held a silver-bladed sickle in one hand and a small jar in the other.
"Right on schedule," she said flatly, tossing the jar in the air.
It shattered—sending salt, ash, and dried jasmine petals in all directions.
Am followed behind, wearing his long coat like a cape he absolutely didn't earn.
He flipped open a battered notebook and began reading:
"Lilia of the Thirteenth Line, Witch of the Desert That Breathes, Exile of the Hollow Year… you've violated interplanar ethics, human soul-binding codes, and—"
He squinted. "—oh, and basic common sense."
Lilia shrieked.
The room bent inward, the air rippling with pressure as if something was chewing through reality.
"You have no right—"
"I have a license," Annie cut in, drawing a glowing sigil midair with the blade's tip.
It shimmered, then ignited with blue fire.
"You bound him with fear," she said coldly. "We're unbinding him with something stronger."
"Love?" Lilia mocked.
Annie raised a brow. "No, smartass."
She smacked the edge of the bed with her sickle—
"Law."
⸻
Am chanted now, his voice deepening, resonating with the runes on the floor.
They lit up in a web of light, circling the bed—then climbing Fox's body like gentle vines.
Lilia screamed as the magic began tearing through the pact woven into his soul.
"No! He begged me to live! He chose me!"
Am looked up. "Yeah, and then he changed his mind. People do that."
Annie threw her hand forward. "Exile her."
From the window, wind surged inward—no glass broke, no sound erupted—just pure null magic
It wrapped around Lilia's form like invisible chains, pulling her backward into the crack in the air.
Her last scream was not of rage… but grief.
And then—she was gone.
⸻
Fox dropped to the bed, coughing. His eyes fluttered open—clear for the first time.
Vixen ran to him, cradling his face in her hands.
He stared at her like he couldn't believe she was real.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I gave her a piece of me. I thought I had no way back."
"You found it," she whispered. "That's what matters."
⸻
Meanwhile, Am dusted his hands off. "She was clingy. I give her a 4 out of 10. Definitely wouldn't summon again."
Annie walked over to the cracked obsidian stone on the floor.
She crushed it beneath her boot. The light in the room stabilized immediately.
"She's gone," she said. "The rules she twisted—undone. No more 6:06 wakeups, no more forbidden food schedules, no more creepy classical music at 4 a.m."
"Dang," Am said, pretending to pout. "I was starting to like the drama."
⸻
Outside, the wind was gentle. The sky had shifted from pitch-black to the faintest grey of dawn.
Vixen walked the two of them to the hospital gate, holding a now slightly smushed piece of rose cake.
"Thank you," she said softly. "For everything. For saving him."
"You're welcome," Annie said. "But we mostly just like kicking old witches off this plane."
"Do call us if anything starts floating again," Am added. "Or if your toaster starts chanting."
Vixen smiled. "Will do."
They turned to go.
"Annie," Vixen called out once more.
She held out the rose cake.
"For next time?"
Annie took it and winked. "No next time. But I'm eating this anyway."
............................
*** Lilia (Lilithia) is gone. The bond is broken. And somewhere between ash and magic—Fox found his way home.