Demonic Intervention

The wind moaned outside. Shadows twitched like nervous fingers across the walls.

Elsa sat alone at the inn's bar, the fire crackling behind her. Her charms buzzed softly—uneasy, like they could feel something wrong.

The front door groaned. A subtle press. Barely noticeable.

But it was there.

A hand.

A pale, elegant hand splayed against the foggy glass. The fingers twitched, then dragged down, leaving streaks.

Elsa's breath caught. Her hands shook. "No... we sealed it. They're gone. It can't be you."

But it was.

Another one.

She backed away slowly, the wards humming louder, as if to scream run in the only language they knew.

The door creaked louder.

Elsa's charms burst like glass bulbs—one by one, sparks flying in the dim air. The runes on the walls flickered and dimmed.

A shadow crept beneath the frame.

Then it slithered in.

A third one. Slick and silent.

Elsa backed up to the stairs, muttering every protective chant she knew, hands trembling.

"I'm not a knight," she whispered, voice cracking. "I'm not a hero."

And the shifter stared at her like it agreed.

The station was empty.

Fog poured from the trees, curling over the tracks like smoke.

Scott stepped off last, eyes scanning the shadows.

A woman waited at the platform's edge. Young. Smiling. Too perfect.

Too still.

Scott didn't speak. Just stared.

Then, slowly, his lips curled into a half-smile. "Figures."

She tilted her head. "Something wrong, darling?"

Scott shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, eyes cold. "No. Just tired of seeing the same trick."

The shapeshifter blinked, face twitching once.

He didn't move. "You picked the wrong guy to meet at the station."

Three shifters now in play.

One cornered Alice.

One stalked Elsa.

One faced Scott.

And one more—Sho's original—drifted like a ghost through the city, chasing him just as much as he chased it.

The curse wasn't content with one anymore.

The old woman's face began to peel away, melting into a distorted, leathery monstrosity. Bones cracked, limbs elongated, its mouth split in three vertical lines.

Alice gripped the silver dagger.

It trembled in her hand.

No fire. No mirror. No oil. Just her and this cursed blade.

The thing lunged.

Alice ducked, twisting low, but its claws still slashed her side—deep. Hot pain seared her ribs. She gasped and rolled, slamming her back against the alley wall.

God, it hurts.

Another swipe.

She blocked with her forearm—bad idea—the bone cracked.

She screamed.

Staggered back.

Heart pounding.

What am I doing? This isn't me anymore. I'm not strong. Not fast. Not ready. I don't have the power I used to. I don't have my team. I don't even have my armor.

Blood poured from a gash in her thigh. Her grip faltered.

I should run.

I should've stayed in that bed.

Why am I even doing this?

The shapeshifter bore down on her, mouth yawning with rows of barbed teeth.

Her vision blurred.

But then—light.

A hand.

His hand.

Sho's.

Reaching out.

And behind her, she felt others—faint, not quite real. Ratan. Kara. Eli. Her comrades, long gone. Ghosts of her past not ready to let her fall again.

Hands on her back. Lifting.

Not alone.

The wind caught her hair. Her blood steamed from her skin like mist.

The shadows stirred. Not fully returned—but reaching.

A whisper in her ear.

"One more time, Alice."

Her muscles tensed.

Her footing steadied.

She screamed and charged.

Wall.

One step.

Two.

She ran up the stone, leapt backward, twisted in air.

Hurricanrana.

The beast slammed into the alley floor, shrieking as its spine cracked.

Alice flipped back, landed hard, slipped in her own blood—but didn't fall.

She spun.

A blur of kicks—one, two, three—striking joints, tendons, its shifting skin trying to keep up.

The phantom limbs, shadows of her old strength, braced her form. Just barely.

It reared back, form melting again.

But Alice didn't flinch.

Not anymore.

She grabbed the dagger tight and ran again.

Because she had something left to save.

Because he had saved her.

And if she could die with purpose—then so be it.

Alice skids to a halt, silver blade flashing, breath shallow, chest heaving.

 "You've been through worse. You've battled monsters worse than this. You're not broken. You're not done." Alice said to herself, through clenched teeth.

The shapeshifter lashes out—bone-like spikes from its arms now.

"Come on then!" Alice roared, screaming.

She charges again—another clash—but this time, it adapts. She's swatted hard, her body tumbling like a ragdoll, landing in the open street.

Civilians gasp from windows. Doors slam shut.

The beast approaches slowly.

Until—

THWACK!

A boot connects with its neck—Sho, mid-air, lands hard and torches the thing, flames dancing wildly on its face as it screeches.

"Miss me?" he said,Dropping back to Alice and offering her a hand, a grin stretched across his face.

Alice grabs it, still winded, still bleeding.

"Took your damn time." she said, through pain, through broken and shattered bones.

"Let's make it count." he said, now hoisting her.

He cups his hands. Alice steps into them and he launches her upward.

Airborne, wind stinging her eyes, she narrows in on the beast below—charred, stumbling, screeching.

Not a soloist. Not anymore.

"You don't have to carry this alone, Alice!" Sho screamed from below, cheering her on. 

Alice roars, hurling the dagger like a javelin. Silver arcs—clean, true—and punches through the monster's skull, embedding the dagger in its exposed brain.

It collapses, limbs twitching.

Dead.

"Where the hell were you?! That thing almost killed me!" Alice said, panting, holding her side and clearly weakened from the battle.

"There's more. I didn't know until just now. There's not one... There's at least two!"

Just as he speaks—a howl erupts. The second shapeshifter, Sho's, torched from their earlier encounter, charges in like a wounded animal from hell.

Alice's eyes widened.

ALICE:

"Elsa—what if one already went after her?"

SHO (taking the dagger from her hand):

"Then I've gotta end this quick. Find Elsa. Now!"

He bolts in, blade gleaming, a trail of fire igniting behind him.

The door creaked open.

A hand, human but off, slid in. The creature stepped through. Elsa froze—its face was her own, but wrong, too smooth. Too dead behind the eyes.

She took a single step back.

Then vanished.

WHIP!

She reappeared across the room, blurring with inhuman speed. The beast hissed, missing its mark entirely.

ELSA (taunting, circling):

"You picked the wrong inn, shapeshifter."

She dashed around the monster, leaving a trail of heat where she stepped, darting to form a loop—a circle of movement trapping it.

It growled, lashing blindly.

She prepared to finish it—dagger raised—until—

SCREAM. Upstairs.

The little girl.

Elsa hesitated.

Was it a trick?

Didn't matter.

She ran.

INT. INN – GIRL'S ROOM

Elsa bursts in—only the girl, breathing, unharmed. Elsa's heart pounded.

It was bait.

She stepped back—

Too late.

The beast, now at the top of the stairs, grinned, tongue flicking.

Elsa backed into the room, arms trembling.

ELSA (inner monologue):

Why did I run? Why did I give up the kill shot?

She saw her sister's face, that soft smile—just for a flash.

Because that's what sisters do.

She clenched her fists.

Prepared her trump card—

When the air split.

CRACK!

Red lightning.

A guitar riff sliced through the walls like magic. The door exploded inward.

The shapeshifter twisted violently, its form breaking apart mid-shift.

A man in a grey and red suit stood behind it, headphones slipping off.

MYSTERIOUS MAN:

"You guys are noisy in here."

The beast burned into ash.

Elsa stared. Then chuckled. Just one dry, shaken laugh.

She stumbled toward the inn.

Everything spun. The lights, the world, her thoughts. She'd lost too much blood. Her knees buckled.

The street was cold.

She fell.

Click.

Click.

Heels approached.

A silhouette knelt beside her.

UNKNOWN WOMAN (softly):

"Sleep, warrior. You've earned it."

Alice's vision faded—only that voice, that oddly gentle voice, lingered as she was lifted into unfamiliar arms.

While Alice's fate remained unclear, Sho's was far from now.

Sho's boots scraped across the gravel as he circled the monster, breath heavy, skin burning with heat and fury. Flames flickered in one hand. In the other—the dagger that had slain the last one.

SHO (gritted):

"You hurt a kid. You crossed a line."

The shapeshifter snarled, now bearing its true form—half-melted faces over writhing flesh, limbs constantly reforming, mimicking the dead.

Sho rushed in with no hesitation.

His fists met its shifting body again and again—sacred fire wrapping around his knuckles, burning away each false face, each disguise.

SHO (yelling mid-swing):

"You think you're untouchable because you can hide in skin?! You bled that girl! You cut her down on my watch!"

The monster collapsed to one knee.

Sho's knee cracked into its chin, forcing it upright just long enough for him to grab its twisted face and shove a small mirror into its gaze.

It flinched.

Then… it stared.

And for a breath—it looked human. Tired. Ashamed.

Sho crouched in front of it, dagger steady in his hand, his fire dying down.

SHO (low):

"Look at yourself. Look at what you are. You're not some predator. You're pathetic. A parasite pretending to be people."

Then—laughter. Wet and guttural.

SHO (flat, disgusted):

"Yeah. I thought so."

He drove the dagger upward—clean into the base of the skull.

The body seized. Then crumpled.

Sho fell back, body spent, breath shallow. He stared at the sky, muscles twitching.

Then—

VOICE (echoing, unholy):

"Seth'mak vol du'shar…"

Sho's eyes shot open.

The air around him chilled. The corpse behind him twitched once—then turned to ash.

From the far end of the street, someone walked forward.

Sword resting across his shoulder.

SCOTT (grinning):

"Looks like this sigil's been leading to you all along… infamous sky-bred scum."

Sho stood slowly. His eyes narrowed as he locked onto Scott.

SHO:

"…Who the hell are you?"

Scott tilted his head—and smiled.

Rows of unnaturally sharp teeth gleamed in the moonlight.

SCOTT:

"Let's just say I've been following the scent of burnt monsters. And you? You reek of Heaven's mistake."

Sho didn't even blink before Scott vanished from view.

CLANG!

A flash of silver. A glint of motion. Sho's body jerked as Scott's blade came crashing down, narrowly blocked by Sho's dagger—metal shrieking against metal.

SHO (breathing hard):

"Fast…"

Then—

WHAM!

Sho's body twisted violently as if struck from the inside. He doubled over, clutching his stomach, breath stolen from his lungs.

SHO (gasping):

"What… was—"

SCOTT (casual):

"You felt it, didn't you? That's the echo. The phantom cut."

Scott walked toward him slowly, twirling his blade, predatory.

SCOTT:

"The incantation I said earlier? 'Seth'mak vol du'shar.' It's an old dialect of the Nightosphere. Basically means: 'Let every wound repeat.'"

Sho gritted his teeth, trying to stand.

SCOTT (smirking):

"Every time you fail to properly deflect me, the stack grows. First hit? One echo. Next time?"

He flashed forward again. Sho barely dodged—

But the moment he turned—

THWACK! THWACK!

Two invisible forces slammed into his back, hurling him into the street. His limbs flailed as he landed, scraping pavement and rolling until he slammed into a stone wall.

Sho coughed blood.

SHO (hoarse):

"This… this isn't normal fighting."

SCOTT (grinning wide):

"You're not fighting a swordsman, boy. You're fighting a curse in human skin."

Scott flickered again—another lunge.

SHINK!

Sho managed to parry—but only barely. The edge of Scott's blade kissed his arm.

Sho turned—brace for it—

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

Three hits now.

The phantom cuts erupted from nothing—spine, ribs, shoulder. Each one tearing through him like electric fire. He fell to his knees, vision flickering.

SHO (internal):

It's stacking. It's not just strength… it's a damn countdown. How many more before my body quits? Before I can't stand?

Scott stalked forward, unhurried. Calm. Confident.

SCOTT:

"You're already up to a four-stack, pal. Next time?"

He raised his blade.

SCOTT (cold):

"You might not get back up."

Sho clenched his fists, the weight of sin, pressure, failure—all of it tightening around him.

He had to think fast.

Or die slow.

Sho dropped to one knee, his breaths ragged. Scott stalked forward, blade ready to finish the job—until white flames erupted from Sho's body, engulfing Scott in holy fire. The inferno crackled unnaturally, screaming as it clung to Scott's form.

Scott roared and thrashed before managing to dispel the flames with a violent, glyph-fueled burst of energy. Smoke drifted off him, his eyes now locked on Sho with renewed aggression.

Sho looked down at his hands, trembling. "What the hell was that…? That wasn't me…"

A calm voice cut through the tension.

"No," Clara said, stepping out from the fog, glasses glinting. "It wasn't."

Sho turned sharply. "Clara?"

She didn't answer him directly—just strolled forward with her arms crossed, looking between the two of them like pieces on a board.

Scott narrowed his eyes. "And who are you supposed to be?"

"Just a seamstress with good timing," she replied, casually brushing soot from Sho's shoulder. "But it seems I've walked into something… combustible."

Sho didn't move. His muscles were locked, his mind reeling from the divine fire—and Clara's implication. "If it wasn't me… then what was it?"

Clara looked at him, expression unreadable. "Something in you cracked open. Or something came through. Either way… it wasn't yours alone."

Scott leveled his blade at Clara now. "I don't know who you are, but I don't trust your little riddles."

Before he could lunge, Sho's body moved on instinct—against his will—placing himself between Clara and Scott.

Sho's eyes widened. "I didn't mean to—"

A low hum of power began to seep off him, a heat that whispered of sealed power being shaken loose.

Clara raised an eyebrow, amused. "Interesting."

Sho gritted his teeth. "Stop… whatever you're doing…"

Clara only smiled.

The storm of tension finally broke.

Sho darted in, flames barely licking off his coat, lashing out with a swift kick that Scott parried easily with the flat of his blade. Sparks scattered. The two clashed with a rhythm almost choreographed—steel against soul, speed against instinct.

Sho ducked a horizontal slash, thrust his hand forward—lightning coiled into a short burst, zipping toward Scott, who twisted and cut through it midair, runic glyphs flashing around his blade.

"Why do you keep apologizing?" Scott grunted, sliding back from another one of Sho's sudden flame bursts. "You fight like we're not sworn enemies."

"I don't even know who the hell I am right now!" Sho shouted back, slamming his palm to the ground. A pillar of fire erupted beneath Scott, forcing him back into the air.

Scott grinned through the smoke, flipping once and landing smoothly. "Then let me reintroduce myself."

He whispered a second incantation, and his blade glowed red with runes—blood sigils.

They sprinted at each other again. Sho's foot slammed into Scott's sword arm. Scott spun, using the force to whip a chain of spectral blades at Sho—Sho dodged two, caught the third, and threw it back.

Clara stood in the background, untouched by the wreckage, arms folded. Her eyes followed every motion—not with fear, but calculation.

This is getting out of hand, she thought. He's adapting too quickly. Almost like… he's not supposed to be this strong. Not yet.

Her mind flicked back.

Clara, eyes sunken with determination, carried Alice through a ruined tunnel, her boots squelching against wet stone. They passed sigils and carvings long buried—forgotten symbols from the old world.

At the end of the path was an ancient lair—an altar of broken bone and smooth stone. Clara laid Alice there gently, brushing her hair from her forehead.

"One of three," she whispered. "An angel. A demon. And a shadow knight."

Alice didn't stir.

Clara's eyes narrowed. "You'd better wake up soon."

Sho's flames surged higher, white now with faint blue streaks. He was panting, eyes wild—but focused. Scott swung downward with an overhead slash—Sho caught it in his bare hand, blood hissing off his palm.

"I don't care what you think we are!" Sho growled, flames bursting from his back like wings for a moment. "I'm not losing anyone else!"

With a roar, he launched Scott backward with an explosive blast, a crater forming under his feet.

Scott recovered mid-air, grinning as he skidded to a halt. "Now that's more like it."

He's accelerating, Scott thought. Was barely human a few minutes ago. What the hell are you, Sho?

Clara, watching intently, smirked.

That's it. Grow. Burn bright. Burn everything… until there's nothing left to bind you.

The air cracked as Scott landed, dragging the edge of his blade along the cobblestone—sparks bouncing behind him like a trail of embers.

Sho steadied himself, chest rising and falling like he'd swallowed a thunderstorm. His eyes glowed faint white—uncontrolled. Raw.

Scott grinned. "Alright then, let's see if you can keep up."

He vanished.

A blur of black and crimson reappeared behind Sho with a violent CRACK. Scott's blade came down in a diagonal arc, and just as Sho turned to block, the blade stopped—not in flesh, but in flame. A white-hot sigil burned between them, deflecting the blow with a magnetic hiss.

"You learned quick," Scott muttered.

Then he twisted the blade mid-air—a ripple of ghost slashes followed, four invisible blades carving through the air from different angles.

Sho took one to the ribs—a second to the thigh. Blood sprayed in streaks before his body even reacted. The phantom strikes came delayed, stacking pain in unpredictable waves.

Sho staggered.

Scott raised his fingers to his lips, whistled a short tune—a resonance spell—and the sigils around his arms lit up. His blade whirled in a circle before slamming into the ground, summoning a wall of cursed energy that surged forward like a jagged wave.

Sho, still reeling, threw up his arms and the flames around him exploded outward in desperation, disrupting the cursed tide—but not in time. Scott had already closed the distance.

He ducked under the blast, slipped a short dagger from his sleeve, and plunged it into Sho's shoulder.

"Still fighting like you've got a cause," Scott muttered into Sho's ear, twisting the blade. "But you don't even seem to be a TRUE angel. Not even a human either. Just stuck in the middle."

Sho howled and pushed off with a burst of inner flame, breaking away and tumbling back. He hit the street and rolled, catching himself on one knee, panting, blood dripping from both arms now.

"And you!? You have human blood, demon.," Sho gasped, "So tell me why that is. Half-breed."

Scott's grin twitched—just for a second.

Sho stood up, fire trailing from his palms. "You're not a full demon and you're not trying to kill me. Not really."

Scott tilted his head. "Maybe I just like to watch you squirm." the Nightosphere lingered in the back of his mind. "Don't let his words fool you. He wants your guard down. Kill him now, he will only grow exponentially more powerful the longer you wait."

They circled each other again, the fog starting to spin in unnatural spirals. Clara stood off to the side, unmoving, eyes alight with glee and silent calculation.

"You boys dance well," she muttered, almost affectionately. But only one of you will leave with your soul.

The tempo of the fight shifts.

Sho darts in for a risky strike, only to be caught mid-motion—Scott sidesteps and plunges his sword straight through Sho's side, the tip jutting out his back. A sickening clang echoes as the blade strikes cobblestone behind him.

Sho coughs, blood bubbling at his lips. His knees buckle.

Scott leans in, lips by Sho's ear. "I've made a hypothesis. You're not an angel. Just a body… with too much light!"

Sho snarls and erupts in white flame, forcing Scott to yank the blade out and leap back—but the damage is done. Sho collapses to one knee, hand clutched over the gaping wound, breath shallow.

CLARA (O.S.)

"That's enough."

The white witch steps forward, calm as ever, eyes unreadable. She kneels beside Sho and rests a hand over his chest. Her magic flares faintly—enough to stop him from dying, not enough to let him fight again. Yet.

"Touching. You gonna bring him back from the brink again? Thought you were the cold hearted puppeteer." Scott said, pointing his blade.

"I'm whatever the situation needs. And right now I'll need you to keep up." a smirk stretched one way on her face.

She casts a quick glyph in the air, causing a hidden trapdoor to burst open in the street beneath her and Sho. They drop in—disappearing down into the sewers.

Scott curses and bolts after them.

Rushing water. Dim lantern light. Sho groans as Clara half-drags, half-carries him through the dark.

"What's… your plan? I can't read you right now…" Sho was teetering between the waking world and the sleeping.

"Because you're not done. And because I need him to follow." Clara mumbled quietly, her intention unclear but sinister nonetheless.

A roar echoes down the tunnels. The hunt is on.

"Come on, Sho. Time to play bait. One more time." Clara continued.

Sho groans, nods, and pushes himself upright. He stumbles forward as shadows skitter along the walls.

The shape shifters arrive. One drops from the ceiling with a hideous shriek.

Sho doesn't hesitate—his arm flares with white fire, and he nearly swipes upward, slicing the creature in half with a single motion but Clara forced him into a cease fire.

"Wrong target." Clara said, her hand raised as if telekinetically controlling both Sho and the Shape shifter. Skitting on the cobblestone continued. Soon an army of Shapeshifters stood parallel to Sho. Bracing to fight Scott.

"What…? It's you… you're releasing the monsters into the town?" Sho pieced everything together. The shady act, "unintentionally" weakening me then mortally wounding me…

They run deeper. Sho still immobile and under Clara's control. Scott's echoing footsteps close behind, relentless.

"I'm sorry it had to be like this. I never wished I had to turn our initial two-way contract into something so one sided. I truly mean that, Sho." Clara said with a somber expression.

Clara and Sho slide down a slope of stone and bone. Ahead lies a massive cavern, lit by strange torches. At its center: an altar, and Alice's unconscious body laid upon it.

Sho's steps falter.

"What… What is this?"

CLARA (smiling faintly)

"You see. I know you and your little knight friend here would never agree to this willingly. I had no choice but to have my children weaken you."

Alice's eyes flutter open. The damp air is thick with tension. She lies on a stone altar, disoriented. Nearby, Sho and Clara stand, their gazes locked. Two vacant spots on the altar catch Sho's eye. He exchanges a knowing look with Scott, who has just arrived, bloodied but ready for war.

Sho's mind fortified against Clara's influence, just enough to move and use his powers.

"You're all here. Great." Clara bellowed so the distant Sho and Scott could hear her as she stepped closer to the altar, sitting next to Alice, the broken warrior, drained of all her power all she could do was barely sit up and watch the next moments in horror.

"Get away from her!" Sho sprinted at Clara through the pain.

With a wave of her hand, Clara summoned monstrous entities emerging from the shadows.

"I've been siphoning your power, Sho. Preparing for this moment." Clara smiled with a confident, cocky smile.

"Why? Why do this?" Sho furrowed his brow. Now surrounded by monsters.

"That doesn't matter, Angel. Right now I can see that she's a major priority. I'll have to kill you later." Scott suppressed the Nightosphere's bloodlust.

Sho and Scott, setting aside their animosity, brace themselves. They engage the horde, fighting back-to-back. Sho's energy wanes, consumed by wrath and despair.