Ashfall crouched low in the snow, his breath fogging in the frigid air. He had wasted too much time already, trying to figure out a way inside the ruined supermarket. His mind kept circling the same questions: how, why, and whether it was worth it at all. That hesitation cost him.
A pair of Minor Mythbornes, thin-limbed and shrieking in voices that didn't sound like anything human, crawled up the wreckage toward him. One clung to his coat sleeve, the other scrambled onto his shoulder, its nails scraping against his skin.
"Damn it...!" Ashfall hissed and tried to swat them off. The creatures erupted into sharp, broken laughter, the sound stabbing straight through his skull.
Inside the supermarket, the hooded figure who had been forcing Calethia to stare at the stars twitched. Its attention snapped away from her and toward the sound of Mythborne laughter outside.
"Shit," Ashfall muttered, shoving the last Minor off him. He rolled behind the rusted frame of a half-buried car, pressing his back against the frozen metal, forcing his breathing to steady. Don't think about them. Don't fear them. Stop drawing them in.
For once, the trick worked. The laughter of the nearby Minors dulled, and their heads tilted away as though some unseen pull guided them elsewhere.
Ashfall peeked over the car and looked trough a bigger crack in the walls. The hooded figure had stopped moving Calethia's chin, but she was still bound to the chair, head tilted unnaturally toward the broken ceiling where the Stars of Madness glimmered. Her lips quivered, and faint chuckles escaped her throat.
"Not much time left," Ashfall muttered under his breath.
Then something strange happened. The figure moved toward the wall, then stepped through it. No door, no crack or break in the barricade. It simply melted into the structure and emerged outside as if reality itself had folded for it.
Ashfall's eyes widened. "The hell…" He tightened his jaw. How?
The figure stood in the snow for a moment, its head jerking around in paranoid movements. Its black mask—a stitched cloth with empty white circles for eyes and a painted, expressionless smile—seemed to be something more than just a mask. Then, as if satisfied the coast was clear, it slithered back into the wall and disappeared once again.
Ashfall pressed a hand against the icy bricks and tried to mimic it, pushing himself against the wall. Nothing. He hit the barricade with his fist. Still nothing.
In the distance, laughter rolled again. This time deeper and louder. It carried on the wind like a storm of voices. The chorus of Mythbornes grew nearer, the sound twisting with joy and hunger.
His pulse spiked. Time was bleeding out. Then another laugh pierced the air, but this one came from inside.
Calethia's laughter was hollow, broken, almost childlike. It didn't belong to her anymore. She was slipping.
"Damn it all," Ashfall whispered. "It's now or never."
He darted to the side of the supermarket and smashed his boot against a piece of metal debris, sending a loud clang across the ruined street. Then another, then another. The Minor Mythbornes outside stirred, shifting toward him and the sound. Some scratched against the barricades.
The bait worked, the hooded figure stepped back outside, twitching its head toward the noise.
Ashfall stayed low, crouching behind a snow-covered wall. As the figure turned its back, Ashfall lunged. He wrapped his arm around the figure's neck, wrenching it back into the shadows. His other hand clamped down, choking off its scream before it could form.
The figure clawed at his arms, nails scraping his coat. Ashfall tightened his hold.
"Tell me," he growled into the stitched fabric of its hood, his voice low and sharp. "How do I get inside?"
The only response was laughter. High, shrill, broken laughter right in his ear.
"Don't test me." He squeezed harder. "You'll die out here, and I won't feel a damn thing about it. Just open the way."
The figure's body jerked and spasmed, but the laugh never stopped. It grew softer, then broke into a gurgle. The painted expressionless smile seemed to stretch wider as its body went limp.
Ashfall cursed under his breath and dragged the body into the shadows. He rifled through the patched-together clothes, searching for anything; keys, symbols, charms. Nothing. Only another pale and soft mask, but with two black holes for eyes and a jagged smile.
He held it for a second, studying the strange craft, then shoved it away. "Worthless."
All he found that mattered was a knife. Primitive, but sharp enough. It would have to do.
He sprinted back to the supermarket and threw himself against one of the boarded windows. The barricade groaned but held. He backed up and rammed it again, teeth gritted, shoulders burning. On the fourth hit, the wood cracked. On the sixth, it gave way, splinters flying.
Ashfall tumbled inside, landing hard against the frozen floor.
His eyes darted around the dark interior. In one corner, on a broken shelf, lay a pile of weapons; his weapons and Calethia's. Alongside them was a flare gun, its casing scratched but functional. The hooded figure must have used it the two times he saw the flare in the gray sky.
But Ashfall's gaze went straight to her.
Calethia was still tied to the chair, her head tilted unnaturally back, her mouth stretched in a laugh that wasn't hers. Her limbs shook violently, spasms twisting through her body. The Stars of Madness pulsed through the gap in the roof, their alien glow pressing down on her.
"Not happening," Ashfall muttered.
He crossed the room, yanked the ropes from her wrists and ankles, and pulled her head down, dragging her gaze away from the sky. She didn't stop laughing. The sound clawed at his chest.
"Come on, damn it."
He hoisted her over his shoulder, carried her outside, and set her down in the snow, forcing her face into the frozen ground.
"Snap out of it, Calethia!" He pressed her head deeper, the cold biting against her skin. His voice was rough and desperate. "Breathe the cold, not the stars. Come back to yourself!"
But she kept laughing, her arms jerking like a puppet with broken strings. The sound echoed through the ruins.
Ashfall clenched his jaw, the weight of the choice pressing down on him. He didn't know if drowning her in snow would save her or kill her. He only knew one thing: if he didn't try, the Madness would take her completely.
"Damn you," he whispered, pushing her deeper into the frost. "Don't you dare leave me with nothing but that laugh."