Leon's eyes snapped open.
For a breath, he didn't know where he was.
The scent hit first, old stone, cold air, and something damp clutching the ground beneath him.
Then the silence.
The cathedral should've been familiar, but now it throbbed with a wrongness that crawled across his skin.
He pushed himself up slowly, the blood in his head swirling before settling.
Everything was brown.
Every column, every brick, every inch of the massive hall was coated in a thick, glistening sludge. It clung to the walls in slow-moving sheets, dripping in fat strands that hit the floor with wet slaps. Even the stained glass windows were buried beneath it, the shapes underneath warped and drowning.
Leon staggered to his feet, boots sticking faintly to the goo-covered floor. "Hell… what did I walk into this time?" he muttered under his breath, brushing filth from his coat.
His hands grazed down to his hips, contacting with something cold… A revolver, and below it on his thigh strap was a dagger made of black steel.
He reached for the nearest pillar, his fingers sinking slightly into the slick membrane before he pulled away with a grimace.
A faint vibration trembled through the walls with a hush, something breathing, something far bigger than him. He swallowed and forced himself forward. Whatever Madam Siera made him swallow, whatever this "memory", illusion, or hallucination was, he had to see it through.
As he stepped forward, the massive cathedral doors pulsed once like a living organ, then cracked open on their own. The brown muck split as if shoved aside by invisible hands.
A cold wind swept in.
Leon tightened his jaw and walked out into the graveyard.
The moon was different here, bloated, orange, and low enough to touch the tops of the crooked tombstones. The grass writhed softly like hundreds of worms squirming under his boots.
Every headstone was half-sunken, leaning, or broken. And at the far end of the path, perched between two large mausoleums, stood an entity.
It waited for him.
Massive. Wrongly shaped.
A wolf.
If a wolf had been dragged into a nightmare, torn apart, and stitched back together with madness. Its body was swollen with pulsing veins of black ichor. Bone jutted from its legs like jagged armor. Its face was half skull, half flesh, with enormous yellow fangs jutting out of a mouth too wide for its head. Behind it, its tail split open into several thick tentacles that writhed and curled above the graves.
Leon froze at the terrifying sight.
The creature tilted its head slowly, watching him with eyes that glowed the same red as the cathedral floor.
"So that's a wraith…" he whispered, still frozen in place.
The wolf-wraith lunged.
Leon dove sideways on instinct, far cleaner and faster than he'd expected from his own body, but he still slipped slightly in the damp grass and rolled with a grunt.
The creature's claws sliced the air where he'd been standing, carving a deep line into the soil. It hit the ground, skidded, and whipped around with another roar.
Leon drew the revolver from his belt.
His arm moved naturally, the weight familiar, almost comforting. He fired twice, quick, sharp shots that cracked through the still graveyard. The bullets struck the creature's shoulder and upper ribcage. Black ichor splattered, steaming on the ground.
The beast staggered, snarling.
Not dead.
It charged again, faster this time.
Leon barely managed to sidestep, firing another two rounds into its flank as it barreled past him. A tentacle lashed out from its tail, catching his side and flinging him backward. He hit a headstone hard, stone cracking beneath his shoulder.
"Ah… Fuck, dammit!" he barked, clutching his ribs as he scrambled upright.
Two more tentacles whipped toward him. He ducked under the first, but the second caught his arm. Its surface was leathery and cold, wrapping tight enough to squeeze air from his chest. Leon gritted his teeth, slamming the revolver handle into the tentacle again and again until it loosened. He tore free just as the creature charged once more.
He fired point-blank into its jaw.
The shot blew off a chunk of bone and flesh, sending shards of white across the grass. The creature reeled but didn't fall. Instead, it swung its head and rammed him with its skull.
Leon flew back.
He skidded across the dirt, his coat ripping on the ground. His ears rang. His vision blurred at the edges. He could taste metal… or maybe that was fear. He forced himself to stand, steadier than he felt.
"Alright… you wanna play rough?" he muttered as his eyes twitched, raising the revolver again.
He squeezed the trigger.
Click.
Empty.
The wraith charged.
Leon tossed the gun aside, drawing the dagger from inside his coat. The blade shimmered strangely under the moonlight, thinner, longer, almost vibrating like it was eager.
The beast swiped.
Leon ducked beneath the claw, strafing the attack, then stepped inside its reach, and slashed across its chest. Black ichor splattered like thick honey. The creature roared, snapping its jaws toward him. Leon twisted, barely missing the bite, but a tentacle slammed into his back and sent him stumbling forward.
His foot caught on a cracked grave marker, and fell to one knee. The wraith lunged for his exposed head.
Leon thrust the dagger upward without thinking.
The blade sliced through the underside of the creature's snout, carving along its jaw. It shrieked and jerked back, ichor raining down on Leon's coat. He rolled to the side, panting. His heart hammered against his ribs, too loud, too fast.
He pushed himself up again.
The wolf circled now.
Limping, dripping, furious. Its tentacles spread wide behind it like a grotesque fan, twitching with anticipation.
Leon tightened his grip. "Come on then," he breathed.
The wraith pounced.
Leon dashed forward to meet it. They collided in a burst of motion. He ducked under its skull-like face, slicing up along its throat. The blade cut deep, splitting flesh and exposing bone. The creature staggered but swung one massive paw, claws carving across Leon's chest. His breath caught as pain flared, his coat tearing open.
He fell back but recovered fast, surprising even himself. His body moved cleaner, smoother, like something within it remembered what he couldn't.
The wraith lunged again.
Leon slid beneath the swipe this time, a motion so natural it felt rehearsed. He rolled under its belly and stabbed up into its abdomen. Hot ichor spilled onto his hand. The beast wailed and crashed sideways, knocking over a row of leaning tombstones.
Leon scrambled up, dagger dripping, breath sharp.
The wolf-wraith flopped once, then forced itself upright again, shaking, bleeding, fury boiling off its body. It stumbled toward him, tentacles sagging but still twitching.
Leon tightened his stance. "You're not getting up again."
The creature lunged with surprising speed.
Leon misjudged the angle, one of his few mistakes; the claw grazed his shoulder, tearing fabric and slicing skin. He hissed through his teeth but countered immediately, ramming his elbow into the creature's snout and driving the dagger down toward its spine.
The wraith bucked violently, throwing him off. Leon hit the ground hard, then rolled just in time to avoid the crushing stomp that split the earth beside him.
He moved fast now.
His body obeyed without hesitation, even when his mind lagged behind. He dodged the next swipe, stepped into the creature's blind spot, and slashed along its ribs. He spun away from a tentacle strike, then darted forward and stabbed the base of its skull.
Black ichor gushed.
The wraith collapsed, but not fully.
It thrashed, claws raking the ground, tentacles whipping blindly. Leon dodged two strikes, but the third caught him across the leg, and he stumbled. The creature lunged, jaws snapping inches from his throat.
He shoved his forearm up, blocking the bite. Pain tore through him, teeth scraping skin but not fully sinking in. He twisted the dagger in his other hand, grabbed the creature's mane of coarse fur, and yanked its head sideways.
With a roar, he drove the dagger into its neck.
All the way.
The blade pierced through thick muscle, scraping bone, sinking deeper until the creature convulsed violently. Its tentacles whipped once more, then fell limp. Its body shuddered, a choked growl escaping its ruined throat. Thick brown-black fluids poured from the wound.
Leon didn't let go.
He held the dagger buried deep until the creature stopped moving.
And then…
Its body liquefied.
Not melted, liquefied. Flesh turned to sludge, bones dissolved like wax dipped in boiling water. The entire creature collapsed into a pool of swirling ichor that pulsed once… twice…
Then surged toward him.
"What?!"
The fluid rose unnaturally, tendrils of liquid reaching for him like hands. Leon tried stepping back, but the sludge crawled up his boots, seeping into the cuts on his legs. It climbed his coat, slipped between the seams of his clothing, wrapped around his arms.
The ichor forced itself into every wound, every pore, every breath.
Leon gasped.
His vision blurred.
A burning sensation, like fire made of ice, surged through his body and into his spine. His heartbeat spiked, then stopped, then the silence roared louder than any sound in the graveyard.
The last thing he felt was the dagger slipping from his hand as the world folded into darkness.