Chapter 4 — Flames in the Dark
The rift widened, its edges stretching like torn fabric struggling to hold itself together. Beyond it pulsed a darkness that radiated wrongness—thick and oppressive.
Sam's breath hitched. Somewhere in that black swirl, a shape moved.
He yanked Serena behind him instinctively, muscles coiled tight, knife trembling slightly in his grip. "Stay back," he muttered, eyes locked on the shifting shadow within the rift.
Serena clung to his arm, trembling uncontrollably. The sight alone dragged back the memory of what she'd seen on TV—the "demon" that had torn through the reporter's body like it was nothing but paper.
The rift wasn't as massive as the one she'd seen before—it stood barely ten feet tall—but its presence made the air around it heavy.
The lights flickered wildly now, casting jagged bursts of illumination across their faces. Every flash made the thing beyond the rift seem closer.
Then—
Plop.
Something landed.
A clawed, fur-covered foot emerged first, the blackened claws drew faint scratches when it touched the floor. Then another limb followed.
Sam's stomach twisted as the creature finally pulled itself free.
It was a wolf—or at least it should have been. Its eyes glowed crimson like molten coal, its fur rippling where the coiled muscles beneath seemed to move on their own. It stood easily three feet tall at the shoulder, broad and powerful.
The beast took a deep breath, the air rumbling in its throat, then turned its gaze directly toward them.
A low growl vibrated through the floor.
Serena's legs buckled. She collapsed to the ground with a whimper, clutching her brother's sleeve.
Sam's heart hammered, but instinct pushed him into motion. He dragged her backward, step by step, trying to widen the gap between them, the creature and the rift.
The wolf's growl deepened. It lowered itself, muscles bunching.
Sam glanced at the knife in his hand—a pathetic three-inch blade, trembling slightly as his fingers tightened around it. He was overwhelmed by how underprepared he was. He doubted it could pierce that wall of fur and flesh, but what choice did he have?
"Serena," he murmured, voice low and urgent, "when I move, run. Got it?"
She didn't answer.
"Serena!"
Her wide eyes flicked toward him, dazed. He gave her a look that brooked no argument. "Run."
He turned back toward the beast, forcing his voice to steady even as his pulse roared in his ears.
"Hey! Yeah, you!" He raised the knife slightly, his voice cracking but determined. "Come on, you overgrown mutt! You want a piece of me, huh?"
The wolf's head tilted slightly. It didn't understand the words—but the tone, the defiance—oh, that it understood.
It lunged.
"Shit—!"
Sam dove sideways, barely escaping as the beast's massive body slammed into a wooden chair at the adjoined dining room. Wood shattered under the impact, splinters flying everywhere.
The creature spun around with shocking speed, crimson eyes locking onto him again.
It came at him, claws slicing through the air.
Sam fell backward, the strike missing his face by inches. He felt the rush of air and heard the whump as the claws carved a groove into the floor where his head had just been.
Desperation flared. Before he could think, he drove his knife upward into the beast's chest.
The blade sank in barely an inch.
The wolf roared in fury. Its hot breath blasted across his face, spittle flying.
Sam scrambled back, heart pounding so hard he thought it might burst. The wolf lunged again, jaws snapping, and tore through his shirt instead of his entire torso. The sound of fabric ripping filled the room.
It spat the torn cloth from its mouth, eyes narrowing on him with the intensity of a hunter that had already decided the kill was inevitable.
Sam's throat went dry.
He flicked a glance toward Serena. She was still frozen, pale and shaking.
"Serena!! Snap out of it and run!" he shouted, never taking his eyes off the wolf.
The beast began to prowl toward him, tail swishing lazily.
"Serena!!" he roared again, desperation cracking through his voice.
Her head jerked up, eyes glassy.
"Run!" he barked. "Go—now! I'll hold it off!"
Tears shimmered at the corners of her eyes, but she forced herself to move. Each step trembled, but when she reached the courtyard door and gripped the handle—
A deafening crash erupted behind her.
She spun around.
Sam was sprawled across the shattered remains of the glass table in the middle of the living room, blood running down his arm. The wolf loomed over him, barely a few moments away from tearing into him with its fangs.
"Sam!"
She didn't think—she just reacted.
Her hand shot out instinctively toward the beast. An action that would normally be useless in this situation but….
A brilliant red glow bloomed around her palm.
Whoosh.
Flames burst forth in a torrent, crossing the room in a heartbeat. The fire struck the wolf squarely, and in an instant, the air filled with the sound of its agonized howl and the stench of burning fur.
The creature thrashed violently, crashing into walls, rolling across the floor in a desperate attempt to smother the flames.
Sam blinked through the haze, stunned. He'd braced himself for pain, for the end—but instead he found himself staring at a flaming monster writhing on the floor.
He looked around a bit, then found her. "Serena…" he whispered.
She stood frozen in place, staring at her trembling hands, as if she couldn't believe what she'd just done.
"I… did that?" Her voice cracked, disbelief plain on her face.
Sam gritted his teeth and pushed himself to his feet, shards of glass crunching beneath him. He winced, but his eyes were already on the dying wolf. Its body was smoking, half-charred, twitching weakly.
The flames finally went out, leaving only the smell of burnt meat.
He turned back to his sister.
"Your talent?" he asked quietly, the words more statement than question.
Serena looked from her hands to the scorched body, her expression still stunned.
"Yeah. I… I think so." she replied with a nod, still sounding unsure.