Sophia steadied her breathing, calming her nerves before she spoke.
Angelo's voice broke the silence. "You saw it, didn't you? Same as the priest from that old church?"
Sophia met his eyes and answered calmly, "It's not exactly seeing. We feel it."
James's hand trembled slightly as he gripped Alex's. Alex noticed but said nothing—they both just listened as Sophia and Angelo spoke.
Angelo sank onto the couch. Olivia stood beside him, refusing to let go of his hand. He turned to her and gave a faint smile. "Don't worry, Mom. For some reason…" His gaze shifted toward Sophia. "… I feel like she can help me."
"Please," he said softly, "have a seat."
Sophia sat across from him. Angelo looked at Olivia again, his voice small—like a frightened boy asking his mother to stay close in the dark. "Will you stay with me?"
Olivia felt the faint tremor in his hand. Despite his calm face, she could feel the fear beneath it. She sat beside him, holding his hand in both of hers. "It's going to be alright," she whispered. "I'm right here."
Angelo drew in a slow breath, gathering what courage he had left. "What is it that you feel?" he asked.
Sophia's voice was quiet and brittle, like dry leaves against stone. "I can't fully say what it is. But whatever it is—it's inside you."
The room grew still, the silence almost tangible. "I can feel it," she continued, "coiling beneath your skin. It's awake now—watching."
Angelo's hand shook harder. Olivia held on tighter, grounding him. He didn't flinch or look away. His eyes, though hollow, stayed locked on Sophia's.
"How do I get rid of it?" he asked.
Sophia's gaze deepened. "You can't."
The word landed heavy in the air.
"It's bound to you," she said, voice low. "It's part of you. And if you try to cut it out… it will take everything with it."
Olivia broke. A raw sob escaped before she could stop it. James turned away, jaw tight, helplessness darkening his face. Alex stood in the corner, fists clenched, expression unreadable.
"But…" Sophia added softly, "I think I can suppress it. Temporarily."
Hope flickered—small, fragile.
"How?" James asked, desperate.
"What do we do?" Alex added, steady but strained.
Sophia's eyes fixed on Angelo. "First, I need to see the marks."
Angelo hesitated for a moment, then turned his back and slowly lifted his shirt.
The faint blue glow returned, pulsing with a rhythm that didn't belong to this world. The marks weren't still—they moved, shifting beneath the skin as if alive.
Sophia leaned forward, reaching out—but Angelo warned, "You shouldn't touch them."
She froze, hand hovering inches away. The pull she felt wasn't on her fingers—it tugged at her very soul. "You're right," she whispered. "If I touch it, it'll drain the life out of me."
Without another word, she opened her bag and laid out strange tools: blackened bone, a cracked glass shard, and a piece of etched metal that shimmered faintly, resisting the light. Relics from places best left forgotten.
She ground the bone and glass together into a fine powder, then poured a vial of dark liquid into it. When she stirred in the etched metal, it began to hum—soft, uncanny.
When she was done, she said quietly, "You'll need to take off your shirt and lie down."
Angelo hesitated. He looked at his mother's worried face. "I'll be fine," he said gently. Then he removed his shirt and lay down on the floor.
Sophia knelt beside him, her movements precise and ritualistic. With the mixture as ink, she began drawing symbols on his chest—right above his heart. The sigils shimmered faintly as she worked, twisting as if aware… and displeased.
When the last mark was drawn, the symbols flashed once, then vanished. The house groaned softly, a cold draft whispering through even though no window was open.
James stepped closer, his voice uncertain. "Did it work?"
Sophia didn't reply. She just watched.
Angelo slowly sat up, blinking like someone waking from a long, deep sleep. "I feel… lighter," he murmured. "Like something's off my back."
"Try using your power," Sophia said.
He focused, trying to lift a glass from the table. Nothing happened. His eyes widened. "… It's gone," he whispered.
A collective breath filled the room.
Angelo turned to Olivia, tears brimming. "It's gone. It's really gone."
She ran to him, pulling him into her arms. Their tears mingled, but this time, they were tears of relief.
Alex's knees gave out, and he sank into a chair, finally letting himself breathe. James took out his wallet with trembling hands. "Please," he said, voice breaking, "take something. Anything."
Sophia shook her head, a faint smile ghosting her lips. "I didn't come for payment."
"Then how can we repay you?" Olivia asked, voice still shaking.
Sophia's eyes turned to Angelo. "Let me study the marks. They're not human. Not demonic. Not holy. I've never seen anything like them."
Angelo looked down at his hands, then back up. "Alright," he said softly. "You can study them."
"I'll need to come back," Sophia replied. "The seals won't hold forever. It will fight back."
From the other room, soft footsteps echoed. Emma rubbed her eyes, still half-asleep from her nap. As her vision cleared, she saw Angelo sitting on the floor.
For a moment, she just stared — then her face lit up.
This time, she didn't flinch. She didn't look away.
"Big brother!" she called, running toward him. She threw her arms around him, hugging him tight. "You finally got better! Don't get sick again, okay?"
Her words broke something inside him. Tears welled up again as he wrapped his arms around her.
"Yeah," he whispered, voice trembling. "I'm all better now. I won't get sick ever again."
Everyone watched, smiling through exhaustion and tears.
Sophia began packing up her tools quietly. At the door, James spoke, "Thank you for saving our boy."
She paused, glancing back. "Thank Father Aldric," she said. "He called me after you left the church. He didn't explain much, but he didn't have to."
She lingered for a moment, her eyes darkening. "Keep him close," she said. "Don't leave him alone for too long. Whatever's inside… it's patient."
Then she turned and left. The wind caught her coat as she disappeared down the path.
The door shut behind her with a dull thud that echoed too long.
Upstairs, in Angelo's room, the mirror—once whole—cracked softly down the middle.
And in his shadow… something watched.
And smiled.