15 – The Echoes Within

The Echoes Within

Noah's garage smelled of oil and rust, the air thick with tension as the group huddled under a flickering bulb. Liam leaned against a workbench, bat propped beside him, his shoulder and leg bandaged but leaking—pain a constant hum. His mom sat on a crate, pale and silent, her arm wrapped from the ritual cut, guilt a shadow in her eyes. Maya sketched runes on a scrap of wood, her hand crusted with blood, sketchbook open beside her. Sofia sharpened her wrench on a grindstone, sparks flying, Luna curled at her feet, patched but restless. Ethan tinkered with a scavenged radio, crowbar dented, his shoulder stiff but moving. Noah pored over the journal's scraps, glasses dangling, voice low as he read Elias's scrawl aloud.

"'The Watcher's essence splits,'" he said, tracing a torn line. "'Bound to the line, it seeks through echoes—fragments of itself.' We cut the vessel, but these—" He tapped the page. "—are still out there."

"Echoes?" Liam asked, badge heavy in his pocket, Carter's death a fresh wound. "Those things with our faces?"

Noah nodded, grim. "Pieces it sends—stronger when it's weak. The ley line's feeding them."

"Great," Ethan muttered, twisting a wire, static crackling. "So we torched the station for nothing."

"Not nothing," Maya said, pencil steady, rune glowing faintly. "We broke its hold on her." She nodded at Liam's mom. "That's a win."

"Half a win," Sofia corrected, wrench gleaming, her voice fierce but frayed. "It's still hunting."

Liam's mom flinched, whispering, "I don't feel it… but I hear it. In my head."

Liam's jaw tightened, trust a frayed thread. "You're sure it's gone?"

She nodded, eyes wet. "The weight's lifted. But the voices…"

A thud hit the garage door—sharp, deliberate. Luna growled, hackles up, as the lullaby hummed, faint but rising, weaving Carter's plea, their dead's cries. The group grabbed weapons—bat, wrench, crowbar, knife—Liam stepping forward, pain ignored, badge a cold burn.

"Echoes," Noah hissed, journal trembling. "It's testing us."

The door rattled, claw marks raking metal, slow and taunting. Ethan braced it, crowbar wedged, while Sofia flanked, wrench up. Maya smeared blood on her rune, shouting, "Hold it—I'll seal them!"

A claw pierced through—pale, gleaming—Carter's face leering, twisted. Liam swung, bat cracking it, ichor spraying, but the door buckled, more skittering outside—Sofia's abuela, Maya's aunt, Liam's dad—eyes glowing, claws clicking. Sofia's wrench smashed one, Ethan's crowbar thudded, Luna lunged, teeth snapping, chaos erupting.

Maya pressed the rune to the floor, chanting with Noah—"Echoes fade, thread snaps…"—the wood flaring, light pulsing. The creatures shrieked, staggering, dissolving into shadow, the lullaby cutting to silence. The door stilled, fog seeping under, but the threat lingered.

"They're gone," Maya panted, hand bleeding anew. "For now."

"For now's not enough," Ethan growled, wiping ichor from his face. "They keep coming."

"Then we stop the source," Liam said, voice hard, bat slick. "Ley line—where's it run?"

Noah flipped a page, map sketch trembling. "Under the manor—deep, old. Elias tapped it there."

"Manor's rubble," Sofia said, fierce. "We blew it."

"Surface is," Noah corrected, pale. "The line's below—tunnels, maybe."

Ethan's radio sparked, static breaking—"…Raven Hollow… anomaly active… containment team…" He cursed, twisting dials. "Protocol's circling back."

Liam's mom stood, shaky. "The lab—your dad said tunnels ran from there. Under the town."

Liam spun, anger flaring. "More you didn't tell?"

"I forgot!" she cried, hands up. "It's coming back—bits, pieces. He mapped them…"

"Map's what we need," Maya said, sketching fast, runes aside. "Tunnels—ley line—cut it there."

Sofia nodded, wrench steady. "No more echoes."

A hum pulsed—low, electric, from the floor. The bulb flickered, shadows stretching, and the lullaby returned—inside them now, a whisper in their skulls: "You can't…" Their scars ached—not the sigils, but something deeper, a pull.

"It's in us," Noah gasped, glasses falling, clutching his head. "Echoes—fragments—still here."

Liam staggered, bat slipping, his dad's voice rasping: "Son…" Sofia dropped her wrench, abuela's plea—"Mi niña…"—tearing through. Maya's knife clattered, her aunt's cry—"Run…"—echoing. Ethan gripped his crowbar, teeth gritted, Carter's scream—"Help…"—ringing.

"Fight it!" Liam roared, shaking it off, grabbing Noah. "Out—now!"

They stumbled outside, fog thick, the garage a trap. The hum followed, shadows pooling—creatures forming, not outside, but from them—their own faces, twisted, claws peeling from their skin. Liam's double lunged, bat swinging—he dodged, cracking its skull, ichor spraying his own blood. Sofia's wrench smashed her echo, Ethan's crowbar bashed his, Maya's knife slashed hers, Noah ducked, his clawing at him.

"It's us!" Maya shouted, blood dripping, rune wood in hand. "The scars—it's using them!"

Noah chanted—"Thread snaps…"—the rune flaring, light searing. The echoes shrieked, dissolving, the hum fading, scars dulling. They collapsed, panting, fog pressing, Luna whining beside Sofia.

"It's in our heads," Liam said, voice raw, helping his mom up. "Not just her."

"Then we cut it out," Maya replied, sketching again, fierce. "Tunnels—ley line—end it."

Ethan wiped his face, grim. "Protocol first. They're close."

Headlights flared—distant, roaring nearer. Radios crackled: "Targets in sight…"

"Woods!" Liam yelled, leading them in, fog swallowing, the lullaby a whisper—watching, waiting.

Later, they hid in a hollow, trees shielding, breath fogging. Liam's mom clutched a stick, sketching a crude tunnel map in the dirt—memory bleeding back. Maya traced it, runes ready, Sofia sharpened her wrench, Ethan rigged the radio, Noah read scraps.

"It's us or them," Liam said, badge heavy, bat steady. "Protocol, Watcher—both die."

Sofia nodded, fierce. "For Luna."

"For all of them," Maya added, pencil firm.

Ethan smirked, grim. "Round five."

Noah closed the journal, calm. "We've got the line. Let's sever it."

The fog thickened, a shadow flickered—a promise of blood….