Michael started laughing.
It was soft at first—barely a sound—but it was wrong. Too calm. Too empty. His head rested against the window. His eyes were open looking straight at Victor.
Cynthia noticed first.
"Michael?" she whispered.
He turned slowly toward her. His smile was strange and unfamiliar. "Do you hear it?" he asked gently. "It's closer now."
Victor felt a chill run through him. "Hear what?"
Michael's gaze slid past them, into the trees. "Your fear."
Cynthia's breath sharpened as she reached for Victor's arm. "Victor… something's wrong with him, he's acting weird."
"I know," Victor said. His voice was steady, but his heart wasn't. "We don't have anywhere else to go."
After giving it so much thought, "There was only one place left,"
"The church," he said. "Father Lucas. He must have found something. A way to stop this."
Michael laughed again, louder this time.
"You're late," he murmured.
Before Victor could respond, Cynthia gasped sharply.
"Victor—look!"
From the darkness behind the car, something moved.
No.
Ran.
A really tall figure burst out from the trees, its hands were really long. Its body bent forward as it sprinted, it had no eyes or nose, only a mouth. With his head snapping from side to side as if searching.
It was walking on his toes alone.
And it was fast.
"Oh God," Cynthia whispered.
Victor twisted the key.
Nothing.
The engine clicked.
It was closer now. Its mouth opened wide, wider than a human jaw should allow, teeth flashing in the dark.
Victor turned the key again with fear in his eyes.
"Come on—come on—"
The figure roared in a loud voice as it increased its speed.
The engine made a sound like metal tearing before coming to life.
Victor slammed his foot down, the car jerking forward just as the thing almost got them. Cynthia screamed as it brushed the rear window, fingers scraping glasses away.
But it didn't stop.
It chased them.
It became harder for Victor to see, as he was in a panic state, heart racing, breath shallow. The thing ran behind them, faster than the car should have been able to outrun, its body stretching and snapping back into shape. Each time it touches the motor, it struggles to hold it.
Cynthia grabbed Victor's arm, nails digging into his skin. She was looking terrified. "It's still there—Victor, it's still there, it's getting closer!"
"I know!" he shouted.
The church came into view and the running footsteps of the creature slowed down.
Victor drove swiftly into the gravel lot, tires screeching. The moment the car stopped, all three of them moved at once.
Victor and Cynthia ran, but Micheal just acted strange before following them.
Victor grabbed Cynthia's hand, pulling her close, refusing to let go as they stumbled against the stairs. Her breath came in short, panicked gasps, but she didn't slow down.
Behind them, the thing roared again.
They burst through the church doors.
Silence filled the church as they stepped in.
The doors slammed shut on their own.
Inside, candles burned low, shadows dancing along the walls. Father Lucas knelt before the altar, sweat pouring down his face, rosary clenched tight in his fist. His prayers were serious and so focused, like someone holding a door shut against something trying to break through.
He looked up sharply when they entered.
"You brought it here!," he said.
Before Victor could answer, a chuckling sound cut through the chapel.
"What the hell is happening? It isn't even giving us a break." Victor said with his face looking pale.
A nun staggered from the side hall—Sister Agnes. Her face was twisted, eyes rolled back, mouth moving in a voice that wasn't hers.
"You cannot hide," she hissed.
She lunged.
Victor stepped forward instinctively, shielding Cynthia with his body. "Stay behind me," he said to her, looking less scared.
"Enough!" Father Lucas roared.
The candles flared violently. The air pressed down hard, stealing breath. Father Lucas raised the cross, his voice shaking the walls.
"God is here," he declared. "And you are not welcome."
Sister Agnes screamed as her body convulsed, collapsing to the floor. "No–no he's not." Her body began to shake.
The cross statue on the altar began to bleed as she led out a loud scream before collapsing completely.
The church fell silent.
Cynthia collapsed against Victor, shaking. He wrapped his arms around her fully, holding her like he might lose her if he didn't.
"I'm here," he whispered into her hair. "I've got you, stay with me." Tapping her slightly on the cheek to bring her back.
Behind them, Michael laughed.
They turned.
He stood alone near the doorway, eyes black, calm smile.
Mary's voice slipped from his mouth.
"You brought him to the altar," she said gently. "Just like before."
Father Lucas froze.
"What do you mean—before?"
The lights went out.
The church bells began to ring on their own.
And somewhere deep beneath the altar, something answered.
It began as a sound—low stone grinding against stone. The candles lining the sanctuary flickered violently. Father Lucas froze mid-prayer.
His eyes snapped open.
"No…" he whispered.
A chill crept into his eyes.
Victor felt a sudden pressure in his chest, heavy and suffocating. The mark on his wrist burned like a fresh wound. Cynthia gasped beside him, feeling the same pain coming from the mark too. She clutched his arm as the air in the church grew thick, difficult to breathe.
Michael screamed.
Not in pain—but in fury.
Victor turned just in time to see Michael's body bent backward unnaturally, his spine arching as though invisible hands were pulling him apart. His eyes rolled back, revealing only white.
"Get him down now!!" Father Lucas shouted.
Victor quickly grabbed onto him and pulled him down with all the strength he had within him.
"LET ME GO!" Michael roared—but the voice was wrong. Too many. Too deep.
Victor brought him down. Gripping him with everything he had. "This isn't you," he growled through clenched teeth. "You hear me? I'm not letting you go."
Michael's head snapped toward him, lips curling into a smile that made Victor's blood run cold.
"I entered through love," the thing said calmly. "And love never lets go because this man is in love with my vessel."
The ground shook.
Dust fell from the ceiling. The stained-glass windows rattled violently as a sudden wind burst through the church—despite every door being shut.
Beneath the altar, the stone floor split open.
Not wide.
Not fully.
Just enough.
Something became slightly visible. Glowing faintly red, as though something ancient was breathing beneath it.
Cynthia cried out. "Victor—what is that?"
Father Lucas stepped forward, his face looking pale. "This altar was built to seal something," he said. "Long before this church stood. Long before us."
The truth struck Victor like ice.
"The book," he whispered. "It didn't just choose us. It's trying to reopen what was buried, that was its plan all along."
A transferred priest who has been watching everything, emerged from the shadows of the sanctuary—older, scarred, eyes burning with urgency.
Without any hesitation, "Bind him," the man commanded. "Now!"
Victor dragged Michael toward the altar steps as Cynthia grabbed the heavy cords used for ceremonial bells. Together, trembling and terrified, they restrained him—arms, legs, chest—while Michael screamed and laughed at the same time.
"You're too late," the demon inside him said in a very deep voice. "The altar remembers me."
Father Lucas and the assisting priest stood on either side, raising their crosses as the wind howled violently around them.
"In the name of Jesus Christ," Father Lucas thundered, "I command you—depart, for you do not belong here!"
The air exploded.
Candles extinguished all at once. Michael screamed.
Not the demon.
Michael.
The assisting priest began chanting in Latin, voice steady and unbroken.
The oil ignited.
In a vision, Michael saw a man dressed in complete white coming closer to him. " My son," the man said and touched him on the cheek. Then immediately, the demon let out a loud roar as if its very essence was being ripped apart.
The church shuddered.
Silence filled the whole church.
Michael collapsed forward, his body going limp.
The wind died.
The crack beneath the altar sealed itself, stone grinding back into place as if it had never been opened.
Everyone froze.
Then—
A scream.
Not from inside the church.
But far below it.
The sound of such agony made Cynthia cover her ears, Victor's knees nearly buckling beneath him. It echoed upward through stone and earth—furious, wounded, enraged. The demon was in deep pain.
Father Lucas lowered his cross slowly, breathing ragged.
"It's hurt," he said quietly. "But not destroyed."
Victor looked down at Michael—breathing. Alive. Free.
But the relief didn't last.
Because beneath the altar, something shifted.
And whatever has been sealed there wants to be let out no matter what.