THOR - Chapter 5: The Shattered Threshold
The Finch home was no longer a house. It was a threshold, a place where the ordinary world and something far darker collided. The air inside had become a physical weight, thick with the metallic tang of blood and the suffocating scent of stagnant water.
Logan threw himself between Maria and Samantha, his arms outstretched in desperation. Maria's body hovered three feet above the ground, her limbs twitching in a grotesque rhythm, as though strings pulled her from some unseen puppeteer.
"Maria, stop! This isn't you!" Logan shouted, his voice cracking.
The entity laughed through Maria's mouth, a sound that was half-growl, half-mockery. "Maria is watching from behind the glass, Logan. She likes the view."
With a flick of her hand, an invisible force slammed Logan against the wall. He felt the impact reverberate through his ribs, pinning him as though iron bolts held him in place. Martha screamed, rushing toward Samantha, but the floor beneath them began to liquefy. The boards softened into a tar-like substance, sucking at their feet, trapping them in place.
The Return of the Circle
Outside, tires screeched against the pavement. Hanna burst through the front door, half-carrying a semi-conscious Anni. Both girls were covered in mud and scratches, their clothes torn from their flight through Blackwood's creek. Their eyes were wide with terror, but determination burned beneath the fear.
"We're here!" Hanna cried, dragging Anni into the living room.
The sight that greeted them froze them in place. Furniture circled the ceiling in slow motion, orbiting like planets around a dark sun. Maria turned her head 180 degrees, bones cracking audibly, to face the newcomers.
"The runaways return," the entity hissed. "The circle wants to be whole again. It wants to be closed… in skin."
Anni stirred, her consciousness snapping back. She looked at Maria—her friend, whose face was now a map of shifting, dark energy. "It's my fault," she whispered, trembling. "I found the book. I brought the words. Maria, I'm so sorry!"
Maria's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Sorry won't pay the Debt, Anni."
The Siege of the Living Room
The front door slammed shut, the deadbolts clicking into place on their own. Every lightbulb in the house shattered simultaneously, plunging them into darkness lit only by the rhythmic purple glow of Maria's scars.
"The salt!" Logan choked out from his position against the wall. "Hanna, the salt Father John gave us!"
Hanna scrambled to the kitchen, grabbing the silver satchel Father John had left. She spilled the blessed salt onto the floor, forming a circle around herself and Anni. Sparks of white light hissed where the salt touched the tar-like substance.
Maria shrieked, the sound so high-pitched it made Martha's ears bleed. "That salt won't save a soul already sold!"
From the corners of the room, shadows detached themselves. They took shape—multiple copies of the veiled woman, creeping along the walls, their needle-fingers clicking like insect legs.
Father John's Battle
Miles away, at the old mill, Father John was on his knees. The original veiled entity clawed at his back, her touch freezing his blood. He clutched his crucifix, his knuckles white.
"You cannot have them!" he roared, slamming his hand onto the earth. "By the light that broke the first darkness, I command the threshold to hold!"
He began to recite the Exorcismus in Satanam, his voice carried by a wind that blew back toward the town of Merry. He wasn't just praying for Maria; he was fighting a spiritual war for the entire town.
The Breaking Point
Back in the Finch house, the shadows lunged. Hanna pulled Anni into the salt circle, shielding her with her own body. Martha and Samantha were still trapped in the tar, the shadows closing in.
"Maria, please!" Martha sobbed. "If you're in there, look at your sister! Look at Samantha!"
For a heartbeat, the purple glow in Maria's scars flickered. Her eyes returned to their normal brown, filled with tears. "Mom?" she whispered, her voice tiny and broken. "It hurts. Make it stop… it's so cold."
"Maria!" Samantha cried, reaching out a trembling hand.
Their fingers almost touched. But the moment they did, the darkness surged back with vengeance. Maria's face contorted into a mask of pure malice. She grabbed Samantha's hand—not with a sisterly grip, but with crushing strength that bent her bones.
"Maria, no!" Logan roared, struggling against the invisible bolts.
"The Debt is blood," the entity roared through Maria. "And the sister's blood is the sweetest!"
The Arrival of Father John
Just as the shadows were about to consume the family, the front door blasted off its hinges. Father John stood in the doorway, his clothes torn, his face streaked with blood, but his eyes burned with holy fire. In one hand he held a silver chalice, in the other a heavy iron chain etched with ancient symbols.
"The time for games is over," Father John declared, his voice booming like thunder. "The circle ends tonight!"
He hurled the chain around Maria. The metal didn't simply drape—it constricted, glowing with dull heat. Maria shrieked, a sound that cracked the remaining glass in the house.
The shadows recoiled, hissing, their forms flickering. The veiled woman's copies shrank back into the corners, their needle-fingers twitching in frustration.
Closing Image
The living room was a war zone. Logan collapsed to the floor, freed from the invisible bolts. Martha pulled Samantha from the tar, sobbing with relief. Hanna clutched Anni, both trembling inside the salt circle.
Maria writhed against the iron chain, her body convulsing, her voice alternating between sobs and guttural roars.
Father John raised the chalice high. "By the blood of the innocent, by the light of the eternal, I bind you!"
The house shook violently, as though the very foundations resisted his words.
And in the center of it all, Maria's eyes flickered between brown and black, between girl and monster, between victim and vessel.
The threshold had been shattered. But the war was only beginning.