Kim's heart was racing — pounding so loud it almost hurt. Roger wasn't there.
He turned his head again and again, searching the broken floor, the cracked walls, every shadowed corner of that half-dead palace.
"Roger!" he shouted. His voice echoed, empty.
No answer.
The others just stood still — Jet breathing hard, Samy clutching her jacket, Tony pressing a hand to his head. The air was filled with dust and a strange humming sound, low and deep, like the palace itself was whispering.
For a long, heavy moment, there was silence — the kind of silence that eats sound itself. It wrapped around them, cold and endless. Kim's chest tightened. The ritual didn't work. She was gone.
He dropped to his knees, eyes burning, breath shaking. His tears hit the floor, mixing with the blood still staining his wrist. "I failed," he whispered. "I failed her…"
He cried like someone who had lost everything — like a kid whose favorite toy had been taken and smashed right in front of him. His sobs echoed through the dark hall.
Then, softly, someone touched his face.
A warm hand brushed away his tears.
Kim froze. Slowly, he lifted his head.
Roger was kneeling beside him.
Her skin was pale, her hair tangled and messy, but her eyes — her eyes were alive. She smiled faintly, tears running down her own cheeks.
"Hey," she said, voice trembling but real.
Kim couldn't breathe. He just stared, then threw his arms around her. The sobs came back, harder this time, but now they were full of relief. "You're here… you're here…"
Roger held him tightly, still confused, still shaking. "Kim, are you okay?"
He pulled back just enough to look at her face, smiling weakly through the tears. "You're asking me if I'm okay? You scared the hell out of us."
Roger laughed — just a small laugh, tired and soft. "I could say the same."
Jet was the first to move. "Roger!" she cried, running forward. The others followed — Samy, Tin, Tony — and before long, all five were wrapped in one another's arms, trembling and crying and laughing all at once.
For a few precious moments, they forgot where they were.
Forgot the palace.
Forgot the monsters, the screams, the blood, the pain.
For that single heartbeat of time, they were just friends again.
Alive. Together.
The silence felt warm this time, like peace had finally found them.
But peace never lasts long in places like this.
At first, it was just a flicker — the light above them dimming for half a second, then brightening again. Nobody noticed.
Then, the air grew colder.
Roger was the first to feel it. A sharp chill slid down her spine, crawling under her skin. Her fingers twitched as she held Kim's arm. "Do you guys feel that?" she whispered.
Jet frowned. "The cold?"
"No," Roger said slowly. "It's… something else."
The wind began to rise again, coming from nowhere and everywhere. The broken windows rattled, the walls groaned like they were alive again. The frost on the floor began to spread — first around their feet, then out in spirals, thin lines of ice carving strange patterns in the black stone.
Tony stepped back. "Oh no… no, no, no—"
The lights above them flickered faster, stuttering like a dying heartbeat.
Then came the smell — metallic, sweet, like rust and decay.
And the sound.
A faint clicking, deep and wet, echoing from somewhere below.
Samy turned toward the stairs. "What was that?"
No one answered.
The sound came again, louder this time — click-click-click, like bone tapping against glass.
Tin clutched Roger's arm. "We need to go."
But Roger didn't move. Her hand was shaking slightly, and her eyes were fixed on the floor. The frost had stopped spreading — but something was moving under it.
Shapes.
Shadows.
Crawling.
Suddenly the floor cracked open in thin, jagged lines, and a strange black liquid began to seep through — thick, alive, and writhing like it was made of insects.
Jet pulled Kim back. "Run!"
But before anyone could move, the cracks spread like lightning. The frost shattered. The liquid rose, hissing, taking shape — forming long, twisting limbs out of smoke and ash.
A figure began to rise from the center of the room.
It wasn't human.
It had Roger's shape — her outline, her hair — but its body was hollow, its eyes glowing white, its mouth stretched into a silent, broken smile. The same voice that had guided them through the ritual now came from its lips — but this time, it was colder, darker, distorted.
"You called her back…"
"But something else came with her."
Roger stumbled backward, eyes wide. "No—no, that's not me!"
The shadow smiled wider, cracking its face apart.
"You opened the hollow. You bled the truth. But truth… isn't pure."
Its hand shot forward, grabbing Kim by the wrist — the same wrist he had cut. The wound reopened instantly, blood streaming into the air. Kim screamed, trying to pull away, but the shadow's grip was unbreakable.
Tony lunged forward, swinging a broken pipe, but it passed straight through the creature like smoke.
Jet grabbed Roger's arm. "We have to run!"
Roger shook her head, tears streaming. "I can't! If it's part of me… I have to end it!"
The air filled with whispers — hundreds of them, overlapping, whispering names, moments, lies. The shadows on the walls started to move too, crawling like they were alive, stretching toward the group.
Samy and Tin pulled Kim free, dragging him toward the stairs, but the floor beneath them rippled like water. The black liquid climbed the walls, covering the ceiling, dripping down in long, thin strings.
The shadow-Roger stepped closer, her smile fading into something sad.
"You can't kill what was never born…"
She raised her hand, and the room exploded with cold.
The frost rushed outward, freezing everything — the floor, the walls, the air itself. Jet screamed as the frost touched her arm, burning like fire.
The five of them ran, slipping, falling, hearts pounding. Behind them, the shadow's voice echoed, twisting through the air:
"The hollow doesn't close with blood… it closes with loss."
The hallway stretched endlessly ahead. The doors they passed melted into the walls, the path looping back, trapping them inside.
Roger turned, looking back one last time. The shadow was still coming — slow, calm, unstoppable.
Its eyes glowed brighter now, two cold lights in the dark.
Roger whispered, "If this is what came back instead of me… then maybe I wasn't supposed to return."
Kim grabbed her hand, holding it tight. "You did come back. You're here."
She smiled faintly. "Then I'll stay — just long enough to finish this."
And as the shadow reached out again, Roger stepped forward to meet it.