The Rituals of Servance

The farmhouse creaked under the weight of the growing tension. Outside, the wind howled through the trees like distant voices, but it was the silence inside that felt oppressive. Elias moved around the room with a deliberate, almost ritualistic precision, gathering strange artifacts and muttering under his breath in a language Ethan didn't recognize.

Victoria lay on the cot, her breathing shallow, her skin pale as moonlight. The faintest pulse of light flickered beneath her skin, like veins of the city still winding through her body. Ethan sat at her side, his fingers wrapped around her cold hand, feeling the faint thrum of something other beneath her pulse.

Anna stood by the door, her eyes never leaving Elias as he prepared. Ethan could see the tension in her posture, the way her jaw clenched with every step Elias took. She trusted him—but only just.

Finally, Elias turned, holding a small, ancient-looking dagger in one hand and a bowl filled with a dark, viscous liquid in the other. His eyes were sharp, almost glowing in the dim light of the farmhouse.

"This will hurt," he said, his voice low and steady. "For all of you."

Ethan swallowed hard but nodded. "Do it."

Elias knelt beside Victoria, placing the bowl at her feet. He began to chant, his voice growing louder, more insistent, as the symbols etched into the floor around them began to glow. The air grew thick, heavy with the scent of burning herbs and something metallic, something ancient.

Ethan felt it immediately—the city's presence pushing back, resisting. The pulse in his chest grew stronger, louder, until it felt like his heart was trying to beat out of sync with his body. He gasped, clutching his chest, but he didn't let go of Victoria's hand.

Anna stumbled back against the wall, her eyes wide as the room seemed to shift, the walls bending and warping like the city was trying to force its way inside.

Victoria's body arched violently, a strangled scream ripping from her throat as the light beneath her skin flared bright enough to burn. Ethan held her down, his own vision swimming as the city's whispers grew deafening in his mind.

You can't escape, the voices hissed. You are ours.

But Ethan wasn't listening. Not anymore.

With a roar of defiance, Elias plunged the dagger into the floor beside Victoria's heart, the blade glowing with an unnatural light. The ground shook, the symbols flaring brighter than ever, and for a moment, Ethan thought the entire house might collapse.

Victoria let out one final, piercing scream—then everything went silent.

The light faded. The air grew still.

Ethan's heart pounded in his chest, but the pulse—the city's pulse—was gone.

Victoria lay limp beneath his hands, her skin still cold, but her face was peaceful now, her breathing steady and slow.

Ethan exhaled a shaky breath, tears stinging his eyes as he leaned over her, pressing his forehead to hers. "You're safe," he whispered. "We've got you."

But as the relief washed over him, he felt it—a faint echo, deep in the back of his mind. The city wasn't entirely gone.

It was just… quiet.

For now.

Anna helped Ethan move Victoria to a more comfortable position, her hands shaking despite the calm that had settled over the room. Elias sat back on his heels, his face pale and drawn, sweat beading on his forehead.

"That wasn't a clean severance," Elias muttered, his voice rough with exhaustion. "The city's still tethered… somewhere."

Ethan looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"

Elias met his gaze, his eyes dark and hollow. "It's not just her anymore."

Ethan felt the words like a punch to the gut. He'd known—deep down, he'd known the moment they'd escaped the city that it wasn't over. The pulse, the dreams, the whispers—they weren't just remnants of trauma. They were links.

And now, the city was tethered to him.

Anna crossed her arms, her voice sharp. "Then we cut it out of him too."

Elias shook his head. "It's not that simple. The city's learning. It knows how to hide now, how to protect itself. The next time we try to sever it, it'll fight back harder."

Ethan stood slowly, the weight of Elias's words settling over him like a heavy cloak. "Then we don't give it the chance."

Anna frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Ethan turned to face her, his expression hard. "We go back."

Anna's eyes widened. "Ethan—"

He held up a hand, cutting her off. "It's the only way. We end this at the source."

Elias stood, his expression grim. "If you go back, there's no guarantee you'll come out again."

Ethan nodded. "I'm not looking for guarantees. I'm looking for an end."

Anna stepped forward, her eyes fierce. "Then we're going together."

Ethan opened his mouth to protest, but the look in her eyes stopped him. He knew better than to argue.

They were in this together.

That night, they prepared. Elias gave them what he could—charms, symbols, knowledge. But even he admitted that the city was beyond anything he fully understood.

As they packed, Ethan found himself standing by the window, staring out into the dark woods beyond. The pulse was faint now, but it was there, a constant reminder of what they were about to face.

Victoria stirred on the couch behind him, her voice weak but clear.

"Ethan…"

He turned, rushing to her side. Her eyes fluttered open, the glow gone, replaced by a tired but genuine warmth.

"You're okay," he whispered, brushing her hair back from her face.

She shook her head slightly. "It's not over."

Ethan nodded. "I know."

Her hand found his, her grip weak but determined. "Be careful."

Ethan squeezed her hand gently. "We will."

But as he looked into her eyes, he knew the truth.

There was no careful in the city.

There was only survival.

And this time, they would make sure the city didn't get another chance.