Aftermath

Chapter 5: Aftermath

The silence in the Hollow was deafening. No wind stirred the trees, and the once oppressive dark energy had lifted, leaving only the remnants of what had just transpired. The eerie glow of the symbols faded into nothing, and Lyra stood alone in the center of the clearing, her breath still ragged, her body heavy with exhaustion.

She had done it. The Midnight Shadow had been banished, but a part of her still felt its presence, like a faint echo at the back of her mind. It wasn't gone completely—not yet.

Sam stood by her side, his gaze fixed on the stone where the ritual had taken place, his expression unreadable. Dean was a few feet away, his hand resting on the grip of his gun, scanning the surroundings with practiced caution. They had come so close to losing her, but somehow, they had managed to pull her back from the brink.

"We should get out of here," Dean said, his voice breaking the quiet. "We're not out of the woods yet."

Lyra nodded, but before she could move, she felt a sudden sharp pain shoot through her head. It was as if the Shadow had left a mark on her mind, something that couldn't be erased. The pain made her stumble, and Sam caught her, his strong arms supporting her as the world around her spun.

"Lyra?" Sam's voice was soft but full of concern. "Are you okay?"

She blinked, shaking her head as if trying to clear away the remnants of the demon's hold. "I—I don't know. It's like it's still there, inside me. Just waiting."

Dean frowned, stepping closer. "It can't be. The ritual—"

"I know," Lyra interrupted, her voice trembling. "I felt it leave. But it's like there's a scar, a piece of it that's still stuck."

Sam's brows furrowed. "We'll figure it out. We just need to get back to the house. We'll keep an eye on you."

Lyra nodded, but she couldn't shake the feeling that they hadn't seen the last of the Shadow. It had been too easy—too quick to push back. Something wasn't right.

With Sam's help, she stood on her own, though her legs still felt weak. Dean led the way, his eyes scanning the trees warily. There was no sign of the Shadow's return, but Lyra knew better than to relax just yet.

As they made their way back to the Montgomery estate, the path felt longer than it had before. Every step took effort, and Lyra felt a growing sense of unease gnawing at her. The woods seemed darker now, the shadows deeper, even though dawn was breaking on the horizon.

"Do you think it's really gone?" Lyra asked, her voice soft but laced with doubt.

"I think the ritual worked," Sam said, his voice calm but not without a note of uncertainty. "But demons like the Midnight Shadow—creatures that strong—they don't just disappear. We might've bought you some time."

"Time," Lyra repeated, the word bitter on her tongue. "That's all we ever get, isn't it?"

Dean turned, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of understanding and something darker. "Time's all we need to finish it. We get that, we get rid of it for good."

The faint hint of dawn colored the sky as they approached the Montgomery estate. The sprawling manor loomed ahead, dark and silent, a stark contrast to the world outside. Lyra couldn't help but feel that the house, her family's home, had its own secrets—secrets that might be tied to the Shadow's curse in ways she still couldn't understand.

As they crossed the threshold into the house, Lyra's heart sank. The familiar halls, the ones she had walked through so many times before, felt foreign now, as if the walls themselves were watching her. It was as if the house had changed, just like she had, in ways that couldn't be undone.

Dean and Sam exchanged glances before turning to her.

"We should look into the house's history," Sam said, his voice thoughtful. "There might be something we missed—something about the curse we don't fully understand yet."

Lyra nodded, even though a part of her wanted nothing more than to curl up in her bed and pretend the past few days hadn't happened. But she couldn't. Not when she felt the Shadow's lingering presence, not when she still had questions about what had happened—and what might happen next.

"I'll go through my grandmother's journals again," Lyra said. "There has to be more information. She was working on something—maybe there's something I missed."

Dean gave her a reassuring smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "We'll be here. You don't have to do this alone."

As the three of them made their way to the library, Lyra couldn't help but feel a sinking sensation in her chest. There was still so much left to uncover, so much she didn't understand about her family's past, the curse, and the demon that had been bound to her bloodline for generations.

The library smelled of dust and old paper, a comforting scent that had once reminded her of her childhood. Now, it felt like a tomb, the weight of all the forgotten knowledge pressing down on her.

Lyra ran her fingers over the spines of the old books, her mind racing. What if there was something in her grandmother's notes that could give them a more permanent solution? Something that could truly rid her of the Shadow for good?

She pulled the first journal from the shelf and opened it to the last entry. The handwriting was shaky, almost frantic, as though her grandmother had known something was coming.

I've found the key to breaking the curse. The Midnight Shadow is bound to the Montgomery bloodline, tied by a pact made long ago. To destroy it, I must sever the bond that connects it to our blood. But the price will be high. I will need to sacrifice not just my life—but the life of someone who carries the Shadow's mark. The one who will face the Shadow in its final form.

Lyra froze. The words hit her like a physical blow. She was the one. The one who would have to face the Shadow in its final form. The sacrifice wasn't just a figurative one—it was literal.

Her hands trembled as she read on, the rest of the journal entry becoming a blur.

I fear I have no choice. But I will not let this demon destroy us any longer. The ritual must be completed. It must be.

Lyra slammed the journal shut, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. This was worse than she had feared. Her grandmother had known this would happen. She had known that the end would come through Lyra—and she had been preparing for it all along.

She wasn't just fighting for her life. She was fighting for her very soul.

"Lyra?" Sam's voice was soft, concerned. "What is it?"

Lyra turned to face him, her eyes wide with shock. "I'm the one," she whispered, barely able to speak the words. "I'm the sacrifice."