I Eat Monster and Gain Powers

Chapter 47: I know you can hear me

Eto couldn’t feel his left arm anymore. Whether that was the break or simple exhaustion, he’d stopped being able to tell the difference somewhere in the last several minutes, and every breath dragged in wet and ragged past a rib that had gone from cracked to something worse.

Freya wasn’t faring better. She’d lost her sword twice now, picking it back up each time with fingers that shook worse than the last, blood soaking dark through her sleeve down to the wrist, and the last blast had thrown her hard enough into a fallen statue that she hadn’t fully gotten her feet back under her since.

The creature drifted above the wreckage of the chamber, unhurt, untouched, that dark aura pulsing steady around its edges like a slow heartbeat, and the sound it made now wasn’t quite a moan anymore. It was closer to laughter. Low, distant, almost fond, the way something ancient might sound amused by children who kept getting back up long after they should have stayed down.

It was feeding on that too. Eto could feel it in the air itself, thinner with every second, their pain and their failure siphoned off into whatever hungry thing lived behind those slitted green eyes.

He forced himself up one more time. Lightning guttered weak along his knuckles, barely a spark now where before it had cracked bright and violent, and he knew, some cold animal part of him knew, that whatever he had left wasn’t going to be enough.

Then a voice cut through the dark behind him.

”Nora!”

Mikaela’s voice. Impossible, here, now, but there she was in the mouth of the passage, chest heaving, Nora slumped across her back, Elara at her shoulder leaning hard on her cane but upright, all three of them silhouetted against torchlight from the tunnel behind.

The creature froze.

It happened all at once, the constant drift of its floating body stilling completely, head turning slow toward the doorway, and every trace of that low amused laughter died out of the air in an instant. Its eyes, still glowing that sickly slitted green, locked onto Nora’s slack form draped over Mikaela’s back, and something shifted in its posture that hadn’t been there through the whole fight, a stillness that looked almost like longing.

It didn’t attack. It didn’t move at all, transfixed, confused, drawn toward the girl the way iron was drawn toward a lodestone, and for one suspended second nobody in that chamber breathed.

Eto didn’t waste the opening.

He crossed the distance in two strides and drove his fist square into the creature’s chest with everything he had left.

It connected.

Bone and muscle met his knuckles this time, real resistance, real impact, the creature driven backward through the air with a shriek of genuine pain, and Eto followed immediately with a second strike, a third, each one landing solid now where before his hands had passed through empty smoke.

”It’s solid,” Freya gasped, dragging herself upright. ”Eto, it’s actually solid, hit it again, finish it!”

He drew back for another blow.

”Stop!”

Mikaela’s shout cracked across the chamber loud enough to stop even him mid motion, fist still cocked, and something in her voice carried enough raw certainty that he actually held there, chest heaving, staring at her instead of the creature.

”Don’t,” she said in Keth, already moving forward, setting Nora down gentle against the wall with Elara’s help, hands shaking as she straightened back up. ”Not yet. Please trust me. I have another way.”

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Eto stared at her a moment. She was serious. Very serious. So he withdrew. Stood down.

The creature hung in the air a few feet off, wounded now, breathing hard in a way that looked disturbingly human for something that had spent the whole fight phasing through steel like fog, and it watched Mikaela approach with those slitted eyes gone wide, uncertain, almost afraid.

”Finn,” she said.

The name landed in the chamber like a stone dropped into still water.

”Finn, I know you’re in there. I know you can hear me.” She kept walking, slow, steady, hands open at her sides, no weapon, nothing threatening in the whole shape of her. ”I met you a week ago. You climbed all over a man twice your size and asked if his arms were real. You called Nora your girlfriend about forty times in one afternoon even though she smacked you for it every single time, and you never once stopped smiling when she did it, because you loved making her mad almost as much as you loved her.”

The creature’s hands rose to its own head, fingers curling into what remained of its skull.

”You were so full of it,” Mikaela said, voice cracking now, tears she hadn’t noticed starting running freely down her face. ”Life. Noise. Joy. You were the loudest, brightest thing in that whole building, and everyone there loved you for it, Elara loved you for it, Nora loved you, even though she’d never say it out loud in a hundred years. How could you do this to her? How could you take that light out of the person you love most in this world and not even, not even know you were doing it?”

The creature made a sound then, low, tearing, nothing like the keening grief from before. This was something closer to a scream trying to claw its way up through a throat that didn’t want to let it out.

”You know what you did,” Mikaela pressed, closer now, close enough to see the way its whole frame had begun to shudder. ”Somewhere in there, you know. Fight it, Finn. Fight it, please, you have to still be in there, I saw it in Nora’s eyes, I know there’s still a person left to save.”

The creature’s head snapped back.

It screamed.

The sound tore out of it in a wave that shook the entire chamber, stone dust raining down from the ceiling, cracks spidering out across ancient walls that had stood untouched for a hundred years, and it wasn’t the flat pressure of its earlier attacks. This carried something ragged in it, something human, a voice buried under layers of something older finally forcing its way up through the surface.

Everyone was thrown backward at once, Eto skidding hard across broken stone, Freya slammed into a sarcophagus, Elara dragged down behind a fallen pillar with a cry, Mikaela driven off her feet entirely, the whole crypt groaning under the force of it.

And in the middle of that scream, Mikaela saw him.

Finn. The real Finn, or something close enough to real that it made her chest ache, a boy shaped figure fighting visibly against the black robed thing that had swallowed him whole, small hands clawing at a darkness that kept trying to close back over him, his voice breaking through in fragments between the demon’s shrieking.

”Get out,” he was screaming, at himself, at the thing wearing him, at all of it. ”Get out, get out, I don’t want this, let me go, let me go!”

The creature’s form convulsed, the dark aura at its edges flaring bright and then guttering, flickering between the tall grey shape of the Feyra and the small huddled outline of a boy fighting for every inch of ground he could claw back.

”Finn!” Mikaela was on her feet again, reaching, though something in her told her there was nothing left to grab onto. ”Finn, you can do this, you’re stronger than it, I know you are!”

The light built.

It gathered at the creature’s center, blinding white, pulsing faster and faster, the screaming rising in pitch until it wasn’t a sound anymore so much as pure force, and Eto, dragging himself up through the wreckage with blood streaming from a dozen wounds, understood with sudden horrible clarity what was about to happen a full half second before it did.

”Down!” he roared, the word tearing raw out of a throat that hadn’t managed more than broken fragments of Rostalian in weeks.

The final blast hit everything at once.

It wasn’t a wave this time. It was the whole world ending in one white silent instant, the entire chamber blown outward from its center, ancient stone shattering into dust, tombs and statues and centuries of carved rock thrown apart like paper, and every single one of them was picked up and hurled bodily into whatever wall happened to be nearest, the shockwave rolling up through the crypts and into the burnt shell of the church above and out beyond it entirely, a ring of pressure tearing through the old quarter’s narrow streets, rattling shutters, cracking windows, sending sleeping birds screaming up into the night sky from rooftops half a mile away.

Above ground, in every corner of Torak, people woke to a sound like distant thunder rolling once through the earth itself, and did not yet know what had happened, or to whom, or what had been lost beneath the ruins of a church that had burned a hundred years ago and had just, somehow, finally finished burning.