That’s where my demons hide
Description: exgf!Ellie x exgf!Reader, Shadowhunter!Ellie x Warlock!Reader. You finally agreed to help the Shadowhunters trace down the root of the disappearances, but at what cost?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The briefing room is quieter than the rest of the Institute. Not safe—never that—but contained.
A long table cuts through the center, its surface scattered with photographs, reports, hastily drawn maps. The walls are lined with more runes, less aggressive than the ones at the entrance, but still watching. Always watching.
You lean back slightly against the edge of the table, arms loosely crossed.
No one’s asked you to sit. You didn’t plan to.
Across from you, the head of the Institute stands at the far end of the table, hands braced against it. Up close, the authority around him feels heavier—earned, not just given. At his side is his second, a woman with sharp eyes and sharper posture, flipping through a stack of reports like she’s trying to find something everyone else missed.
Ellie, Dina, and Jesse stand opposite you.
Not as tense as before—but not relaxed either.
This is as close to “comfortable” as it’s going to get.
“Six confirmed disappearances,” the second says, sliding a photograph forward. “All within city limits. All within the last eighteen days.”
An alleyway. Brick walls. A fire escape above. Ordinary. Too ordinary.
“No damage,” Jesse mutters, leaning closer. “No signs of struggle.”
Dina taps another photo. “Same with this one. And this.” She flips two more forward. “Different locations, same result.”
Ellie’s arms are crossed now, her attention fixed on you rather than the images. “Tell her the rest,” she says.
The head of the Institute exhales once, like he doesn’t like this any more than anyone else.
“There were witnesses,” he says. That gets your attention.
The second in command steps in, picking up where he left off. “They all describe the same thing. A figure. Hard to see clearly—like the air around it was… distorted.”
She hesitates, then adds, “Some of them said it looked human. Others weren’t so sure.”
“Did it attack?” you ask.
“No,” Ellie answers this time. “That’s the problem.”
Ellie pushes off the table, stepping closer to the photographs. Close enough that you can see the faint tension in her shoulders again. “It doesn’t chase,” she says. “It doesn’t fight. It just… appears.”
Jesse finishes, quieter— “And then they’re gone.”
No blood. No bodies. No trace.
You look back down at the images. At nothing.
Your fingers tap once against your arm, slow, thoughtful. “Show me the timestamps.”
The second slides a report toward you. “All within minutes. No pattern we can track—time of day varies, locations vary—”
“No,” you interrupt, eyes scanning quickly now. “There is a pattern.”
You push off the table, stepping closer despite yourself, one hand bracing against the surface as you lean in. Your gaze moves from one photo to the next.
“…Transit points,” you murmur.
“They’re all in-between places,” you say, more clearly now. “Not destinations. Not territory. Movement spaces.” Your finger taps one of the images. “No one claims them. No one protects them.”
Dina’s expression shifts. “So it’s picking targets where no one’s watching.”
“Not just that,” you reply.
“It’s picking places where reality is already… thinner.” That lands. Hard.
The head of the Institute straightens. “Explain.”
Not because you don’t know—but because you do. And you don’t like it.
“There are places,” you begin, voice quieter now, more deliberate, “where the boundaries between worlds aren’t as stable. Most of the time, it doesn’t matter. They’re weak points, nothing more.”
Your eyes glance to Ellie’s, not your head, just your eyes. “But if something knew how to use them…”
Ellie’s eyes lock onto yours. “It wouldn’t have to leave a trace,” she says.
You nod once. “Because it wouldn’t be killing them here.”
The second in command inhales sharply. “Then where are they going?” That’s the question. The one that matters. The one you’ve been avoiding since this meeting started.
Your gaze drops back to the photographs. Then stills. Something clicks. Small. But enough.
Ellie notices immediately. “What?”
You don’t answer right away. Instead, you reach forward—finally—and pull one of the photos closer. Not the alley. Not the street. The underpass.
Your fingers hover just above the image. “There was a marking here,” you say slowly.
Jesse leans in. “What kind of marking?”
“Old,” you reply. “Older than your Institute. Older than most of your records.” A pause. “I saw it once.”
Ellie’s voice drops. “Where?”
You look up at her properly now, at the girl you loved, the girl you were ready to start aging again for.
And for the first time since this briefing started, there’s something close to unease in your eyes.
“Before this city was what it is now,” you say. “Before your kind built over everything you didn’t understand.”
Silence stretches. Heavy.
Then—“It’s not just hunting,” you finish quietly.
Dina frowns. “Then what is it doing?”
Your grip tightens slightly on the edge of the table.
And when you speak your voice is colder than it’s been all night.
The word doesn’t leave the room. It settles into it. Heavy. Unwelcome.
“Collecting?” Jesse repeats, like he’s trying to force it into something that makes sense. “For what?”
You don’t answer immediately. There are answers. You just don’t like any of them. Ellie watches you closely now, reading every shift in your expression the way she used to—like she’s looking for the moment you decide whether to tell the truth or not.
“You’ve seen this before,” she says.
Not a question. You exhale slowly through your nose.
“…Not this,” you admit. “Not exactly.”
Dina crosses her arms. “That’s not reassuring.”
You straighten, pushing away from the table slightly, pacing once—not restless, just thinking. The room tracks you whether they mean to or not.
“You don’t erase demons unless you don’t want them coming back,” you say. “And you don’t go through this much effort unless you need them intact.”
The head of the Institute frowns. “Intact for what purpose?”
Your gaze flicks to him briefly.
The blonde woman, Tommy’s second in command shakes her head immediately. “That’s not how it works. Demonic energy degrades outside its host—”
“—unless it’s contained properly,” you cut in. You tilt your head slightly.
“You’re thinking in terms of what your people do,” you continue. “Rituals. Weapons. Controlled use.” A faint, humorless smile touches your lips. “This isn’t that.”
Ellie steps closer again. “Then what is it?” You meet her eyes. And this time, you don’t soften the answer.
Dina’s expression tightens. “You’re saying something’s… stockpiling demons?”
Jesse exhales under his breath. “That’s insane.”
“No,” you correct quietly. “It’s deliberate.”
Ellie runs a hand briefly over the back of her neck, then drops it, grounding herself. “For what?” she presses again. “You don’t just gather that kind of power without a reason.”
You hesitate. There it is again. That line. The one you don’t want to cross.
Ellie sees it. “Say it,” she says, softer now—but firmer. “Whatever you’re thinking, just say it.”
Your jaw tightens. For a second, it almost looks like you won’t.
“There are things,” you begin slowly, “that exist beyond demons. Beyond Downworlders. Old things. Patient things.”
Dina mutters, “I hate when it starts like that.”
“They don’t fight wars,” you continue. “They don’t hunt the way you do. They wait. They gather. And when they move—”
“They don’t just take lives,” you say quietly, “They change the rules.”
Silence crashes down. Even the head of the Institute, Tommy doesn’t interrupt this time.
Jesse shifts uneasily. “That doesn’t explain why demons.”
“No,” you agree. “It explains why now.”
Dina’s brow furrows. “What does that mean?”
You glance back down at the photographs, then at the reports, then finally back at all of them.
“Something’s preparing,” you say. “Building toward something bigger than random attacks. Bigger than territory.”
Dina shakes her head. “You’re talking like this is some kind of… invasion.”
You don’t correct her. That’s what makes it worse.
“You think it’s coming here,” Ellie speaks with a frown.
Your silence answers for you.
The blonde woman exhales sharply, already shifting into strategy. “Then we need to find where it’s taking them. Track the weak points, set wards—”
“It won’t matter,” you interrupt.
All eyes snap back to you.
“If it’s what I think it is, your wards won’t stop it,” you continue. “They’ll slow it, maybe. Piss it off. But not stop it.”
The head of the Institute’s expression hardens. “Then we adapt.”
At the belief that this is still something they can control.
“…You’ll try,” you say. Not mocking, just honest.
Ellie steps closer again—closer than before. Close enough that the others notice.
“Then what do we do?” she asks.
Your gaze flicks down briefly—to the space between you—then back up to her face. You hold it for a second longer than necessary.
“We don’t wait for it to come to us. We go to where it’s taking them.”
Dina blinks. “You just said those places are—what—thin? Unstable?”
Jesse frowns. “And you want to walk into that?”
You tilt your head slightly, “Yes.”
Dina lets out a short, disbelieving breath. “That’s a terrible plan.”
“It’s the only plan,” you reply.
Ellie doesn’t argue. She’s watching you again. Carefully.
“You know where one of these points is,” she says.
Not a guess. A conclusion. You don’t deny it.
“…I know where one used to be,” you correct. “The marking I mentioned—it wasn’t random.”
The room leans in without meaning to. Ellie’s voice drops.
Something older than everything else in the room flickers behind your eyes. “Underground,” you say, “Beneath the part of the city your maps don’t account for anymore.”
Dina frowns. “That’s not helpful.”
Jesse, quieter—“Unless it is.”
“You’re taking us there,” Ellie says.
Jesse’s already half-turned, like he’s ready to go the second you give the word—but Ellie doesn’t follow. Dina doesn’t either. Even the head of the Institute stays where he is, watching you like he’s weighing something he doesn’t fully understand.
“Not tonight,” Dina says.
There’s no hesitation in her stance now. No uncertainty. Just that same steady resolve that used to drive you insane.
Dina exhales, rubbing the back of her neck. “We’ve been running on this for days. No sleep, no reset, just chasing dead ends and disappearing targets.”
Jesse adds, quieter, “If we walk into something like this tired, we’re not walking out.” You don’t respond immediately. Because they’re not wrong.
“And if what you’re saying is true,” Ellie continues, “then rushing in blind doesn’t help anyone. Not us. Not your people.”
You glance at the head of the Institute, then his second. They’re both watching closely now—tense, but not interrupting.
“We regroup, reassess, and move at first light.” The second in command speaks up.
You huff a quiet, humorless sound. “You’re assuming I’m agreeing to any of this.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’re in our Institute.”
“And you needed me in it,” you counter smoothly.
Ellie again, “Stay.” It’s softer this time. Not an order. Not quite a plea. But close enough that it pulls your attention back to her completely.
“One night isn’t going to change anything. But going in unprepared might.” A pause. Then, more quietly—“And I’d rather not lose anyone else because we rushed.”
There’s something under that, something personal. Something you don’t ask about. Your jaw shifts slightly as you think. You don’t like this place.
You don’t like the way the wards press at your skin, the way every Shadowhunter in the building is aware of you—watching, waiting for you to step out of line.
But—Leaving now doesn’t gain you anything.
And staying…Gives you time.
The word is simple, but it shifts the room again.
Relief flickers—subtle, controlled, but there.
The head of the Institute nods once. “You’ll be given a room.”
You raise a brow. “How generous.”
“It will be warded,” he adds.
You almost smile, “I would expect nothing less.”
Dina mutters under her breath, “This is going to go great.”
Jesse nudges her lightly, like maybe don’t say that out loud. Ellie doesn’t react to them. She’s still watching you.
“You’ll be safe here,” she says. And that—that almost makes you laugh.
Instead, you tilt your head slightly, “I’m not the one you should be worried about,” you reply.
The second starts gathering the reports, already shifting into planning mode. “We’ll reconvene at dawn. Everyone rests. No one moves alone.”
“Especially not her,” the blonde mutters.
You push away from the table, turning toward the door without waiting for anyone to lead you.
Behind you, footsteps follow. Not guards. Not quite.
You don’t slow, but you don’t tell her to stop either.
The halls are quieter now, the weight of the Institute settling into something more subdued as the night deepens. The runes still hum faintly along the walls, but less aggressively than before—like they’ve accepted, reluctantly, that you’re not leaving.
“You didn’t have to agree,” Ellie says after a moment.
You don’t answer right away. Instead, you study her.
Up close like this, it’s harder to ignore the changes. The new runes. The faint lines of old injuries. The way she holds herself like she’s carrying more than she used to.
Time didn’t stop for her. It just… changed her.
“Since when do you need a reason from me?” you deflect lightly.
Ellie huffs a quiet breath, shaking her head. A small pause. Her eyes flicker—not away, just… softer, for a second.
“You look the same,” she adds.
You tilt your head slightly. “That’s what happens when time stops being relevant.”
“Must be nice,” she mutters.
Silence settles again, heavier this time. Not uncomfortable—just… full.
Ellie shifts her weight, stepping a fraction closer without seeming to mean to. “You really think it’s something… old?” she asks, quieter now.
“And you’ve dealt with something like that before?”
You hold her gaze, “Once.”
She studies you like she wants to ask more. Like she should. But doesn’t.
“You could’ve said no.” There it is again. That thread she keeps pulling.
You exhale slowly, “I still can,” you reply.
Your eyes narrow slightly, “Confident.”
Ellie’s lips twitch—just barely, “Realistic.”
Another pause, closer now. Not touching.
But close enough that you can feel the heat of her, the steady rhythm of her breathing under the quiet of the room.
It’s familiar. Too familiar.
“You always did hate walking away from things like this,” she says.
You glance down briefly, then back up, “And you always had a talent for dragging me into them.”
That almost earns a smile… Almost.
Her expression shifts instead—something softer, more careful.
“…I didn’t think I’d see you again,” she admits.
The words are quiet, unpolished, real.
You don’t answer immediately. Because you didn’t think so either. But you don’t say that.
“I go where I’m needed,” you say instead. It’s easier. Safer.
Ellie’s eyes search yours, like she’s looking for something you didn’t give her. Maybe she finds it anyway.
“…Yeah,” she murmurs. “You always did.” Another silence. Longer this time. Neither of you move. Neither of you break it.
And for a moment— The Institute disappears.
The noise, the danger, the history sitting between you—it all fades into something quieter. Something that almost feels like before.
Then Ellie steps back. Not far. Just enough.
“Get some rest,” she says, voice steadier now. Back to business. Back to distance. “We leave in the morning.”
You nod once, “Try not to get yourself killed before then.”
She huffs softly. “Same to you.”
Then she turns and walks toward the door. Pausing for a moment, like she might say something else. Only She doesn’t, just closes the door behind her.
And just like that—The moment’s over.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Morning in the Institute doesn’t feel like morning.
There’s no warmth to it. No softness. Just a colder kind of light filtering through high windows, cutting across stone floors and rune-marked walls like something surgical. Precise.
You’re already up. You never really slept.
The wards in your room pulsed faintly through the night, a constant reminder of where you were—and what you were surrounded by. Not enough to keep you out, not enough to hurt you… just enough to make it clear you didn’t belong.
You step into the main hall anyway. Most of them are already there.
Shadowhunters move with purpose, gearing up in practiced silence. Weapons are checked, straps tightened, runes drawn with steady hands. The air is sharper this morning—focused, tense, but controlled.
They’re good at this, you’ll give them that.
Ellie stands near the center table, sleeves pushed up, a stele in hand as she redraws a rune along her forearm. Fresh. Clean. Precise.
Dina is beside her, loading something into a weapon with quick, efficient movements, while Jesse adjusts the straps on his gear, glancing up every few seconds to track the room. They all notice you.
Conversation doesn’t stop—but it shifts.
“Glad to see you didn’t vanish overnight,” Dina mutters as you approach.
You glance at her. “Disappointed?”
“Suspicious,” she corrects.
Ellie looks up then. Her gaze finds yours instantly, like it always does. There’s a brief pause—something unspoken passing between you again—but it’s different now. Lighter. Grounded Focused.
“Did you sleep?” she asks.
You tilt your head slightly.
She huffs, shaking her head faintly. “I’ll take that as a no.”
Jesse steps in, gesturing to the spread across the table. “We’ve been mapping the locations you pointed out. Cross-referencing ley lines, old infrastructure, anything that might match what you said about ‘thin places.’”
Dina adds, “There’s overlap. Not perfect, but enough to narrow it down.”
You glance down at the maps. Marked sections. Circles drawn in ink. Notes scribbled in margins.
You reach out, tapping your black cat eye nail against one of the marked points, “Not this one.”
“Too exposed,” you reply. “If something’s operating there, it wouldn’t pick a place that visible. It needs cover.”
Jesse nods slowly, adjusting. “So underground routes are more likely.”
“Older ones,” you add. “Not the ones your city currently uses. The forgotten ones.”
Ellie watches you as you speak, tracking every detail, “Like the one you mentioned,” she says.
The head of the Institute, Tommy approaches then, his second who you found out was named Maria close behind. Both already geared, both carrying the same controlled tension as the rest of the room—but sharper.
“We move in two teams,” he says, voice cutting cleanly through the space. “Primary team investigates the underground access point. Secondary team remains here, monitors activity, and prepares containment if needed.”
Dina crosses her arms. “Define ‘containment.’”
The second answers, “If whatever this is surfaces, we don’t let it spread.”
You almost smile at that. Optimistic. Ellie doesn’t comment on it. Her attention shifts back to you.
“You’re with us,” she says.
Again—not a question. You meet her gaze.
“…I figured I didn’t get a choice.”
“You don’t,” she replies.
There’s the smallest hint of something familiar in it.
You accept it with a slight tilt of your head, “Then try to keep up.”
Dina snorts. “Oh, I already don’t like this dynamic.”
Jesse mutters, “Too late.”
Maria begins handing out final instructions, marking routes, assigning positions. The room moves with it—efficient, practiced, ready.
You step back slightly from the table, letting them fall into their rhythm. Watching. Calculating.
Because for all their planning—They’re still walking into something they don’t fully understand.
Ellie finishes marking her rune, lowering her arm as she turns back to you. “Anything we’re missing?” she asks.
You consider the maps, the plan, the people.
“Yes,” you say. They all look at you. Your expression doesn’t change.
“If this thing is doing what I think it is… it’s not going to be alone.”
Dina frowns. “You mean like… more of whatever it is?”
You shake your head slightly, “No.”
Your gaze shifts to Ellie. Colder now. More certain.
“I mean whatever it’s collecting… won’t stay contained forever.”
Jesse exhales. “So we’re walking into a nest.”
“Or worse,” you reply, “So let’s not waste any more time pretending this is simple.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The city thins the further out you go.
Noise fades first—traffic, voices, life—until all that’s left is something quieter. Older. The kind of silence that settles into places people stopped caring about a long time ago.
The graveyard sits at the edge of that silence. Iron gates, half-rusted. Stone paths cracked with age. Headstones leaning at angles that suggest no one’s been here to fix them in decades. Or maybe longer.
You stop just inside the entrance.
The others fan out instinctively—Dina to the left, scanning the perimeter; Jesse hanging back slightly, watching the path behind you; Ellie staying closest to you, her attention fixed ahead.
“This is the place?” Dina asks, low.
You nod once, “Or what’s left of it.”
Ellie steps up beside you, gaze sweeping over the graves. “Doesn’t feel like much.”
Your lips twitch faintly, “It’s not supposed to.”
You begin moving through the graveyard, not toward the largest tombs or the obvious markers—but toward the far edge, where the graves are older, more worn. Names long eroded. Dates barely legible.
That’s where things like this hide, the air shifts the closer you get. Subtle—but there.
That same thinness you felt in the reports, the same wrongness. You stop in front of it. It doesn’t look like anything special.
Just a stone structure, half-sunken into the earth, its surface cracked and weathered. No grand carvings. No clear name.
To anyone else—It’s just another tomb.
Dina frowns. “This is it?”
Jesse tilts his head, scanning it. “I don’t see an entrance.”
“You won’t,” you reply. Ellie’s gaze shifts to you.
You reach out, brushing your fingers lightly over the stone.
The reaction is immediate. Not visible—not yet—but you feel it.
Old magic, buried deep, stirring at your touch like something waking up after a very long sleep.
“…It’s still here,” you murmur.
Dina glances between you and the tomb. “What is?”
Ellie steps closer, watching carefully. “And it needs your magic?”
Jesse exhales softly. “That’s… convenient.”
“Or intentional,” you reply.
Your hand presses flat against the stone now. For a moment nothing happens. Then the warlock runes appear.
Faint at first. Thin lines of dark gold light bleeding through the cracks in the stone, spreading outward beneath your hand like veins.
Dina stiffens. “Okay, that’s new.”
The magic responds slowly, cautiously—like it’s testing you. You let it.
Let it trace what you are, what you’ve always been, what you’ve tried not to be for a very long time.
Then—You push. Not hard. Just enough. The runes flare.
Brighter now. Sharper. The stone trembles beneath your hand, a low, grinding sound echoing through the quiet graveyard as something shifts deep below.
Jesse steps back slightly. “That’s definitely not a tomb.”
“No,” you agree quietly. The ground splits. Not violently—but precisely.
The front of the structure cracks along a perfect line, the stone pulling apart in two slow, deliberate halves. Dust spills into the air as something beneath is revealed—A staircase.
Spiraling downward into something that doesn’t feel like it ends.
Jesse stares. “Well… that’s not ominous at all.”
You lower your hand. The runes fade—but the entrance remains. Open. Waiting.
Ellie steps forward, peering into the darkness. “You’ve been here before.”
You don’t answer right away.
“…A long time ago,” you say finally.
Jesse adjusts his grip on his weapon. “And it leads where?”
Your gaze drops to the staircase.
To the darkness curling down, deeper than it should be.
The air around the entrance feels wrong now—colder, thinner, like the world itself is pulling away from it. Like whatever’s below…Doesn’t belong up here.
Ellie steps onto the first stair.
Dina exhales sharply, following. “If we die down there, I’m blaming you.”
The light from above fades quickly as you descend. The spiral tightens, walls closing in slightly, carved stone giving way to something older, rougher. The further down you go, the quieter it gets. No wind. No outside noise. Just footsteps. Breathing.
And the faint, distant feeling of something waiting below.
The spiral doesn’t end. It just… changes.
Gradually, the tight curve of the staircase gives way to wider passages—still descending, still pulling you deeper, but less confined. The walls shift from carved stone to something rougher, older, like this place wasn’t built so much as uncovered.
Your footsteps echo differently here.
Like the space is listening.
Dina mutters under her breath, “I officially hate this.”
It presses in, subtle at first. A weight behind your ribs. A faint distortion at the edges of your senses, like something just out of sight keeps trying to move closer.
“…Here,” you say suddenly. Your voice cuts through the silence, sharper than intended.
The passage opens into a wider chamber—low ceiling, uneven ground, the air thicker here, harder to breathe without noticing it.
Jesse glances around. “What is this?”
Instead of answering straight away, you step forward slowly, gaze lifting toward the ceiling. Toward nothing.
“…We’re directly beneath one of your sites,” you say.
Ellie’s brow furrows. “You’re sure?”
You gesture upward slightly, “Where it crossed over,” you explain. “Where it pulled something from your world into… wherever it’s taking them.”
Jesse exhales. “So right above us—”
“—is where one of them disappeared,” Ellie finishes.
Dina steps forward cautiously, scanning the chamber. “Okay, so where’s the part where we figure out how?”
Your attention has already shifted. To the floor. To the walls. To the air. Something’s wrong. Not just wrong—active.
You take another step. Then another. Slow. Careful. And then you feel it.
It hits behind your eyes, sudden and disorienting, like a spike of pressure forcing its way through your skull. Ellie notices immediately.
Dina glances over. “You don’t look fine.”
“I said I’m—” The second pulse hits harder.
Your breath catches—just for a second—but enough. Enough that Ellie steps closer.
“Talk to me,” she says, low. You shake your head once, forcing your focus back into place.
“It’s the residue,” you manage. “Whatever passed through here… it left an imprint.”
Jesse frowns. “Like energy?”
You don’t answer right away. Because it’s not just messing with you. It’s recognizing you. That’s the problem.
You move again, slower now, more deliberate, drawn toward the center of the chamber where the air feels… thinner. Colder.
Your fingers twitch slightly at your side. Ellie’s right there with you now. Close. Too close to ignore.
“You don’t have to push through it,” she says quietly. “We can slow down.” There’s concern there, and it does something to you that you don’t have time to deal with.
“I’m okay,” you reply, though your voice is quieter now. Less certain.
You reach the centre, and then you see it. Not with your eyes. But you see it.
A faint distortion in the air, like heat rising off stone—but wrong. Darker. Twisting inward instead of out. A tear.
Your hand lifts slightly, almost without permission.
Ellie catches your wrist before you can reach it.
“Don’t,” she says immediately. Your gaze snaps to hers.
“It’s stable,” you argue.
“That doesn’t mean it’s safe.” She doesn’t let go.
“…You’re shaking,” she adds, quieter.
“You’re not,” she says, firm now.
Behind her, Dina and Jesse exchange a look.
“Okay,” Dina says slowly, “so maybe we don’t touch the creepy void thing until we figure out why it’s making her look like that.”
You pull your wrist free—gentler than you could’ve, but deliberate.
“It’s not the tear,” you say. “It’s what passed through it.”
Ellie’s gaze sharpens. “What do you mean?”
You look back at the distortion, at the faint pull it has.
At the way it feels like it’s trying to draw something out of you.
“…It’s still connected,” you say quietly.
Dina frowns. “Connected to what?”
“To whatever’s on the other side.”
Jesse steps back slightly. “So it could come back through?”
“No,” you say. “Not like this.”
Ellie watches you carefully. “Then what?”
You don’t look at her this time.
Because you don’t like the answer.
“It doesn’t need to come through,” you say, “It’s already reaching out.”
The air in the chamber seems to drop a degree.
Your breath catches again—sharper this time. You can’t ignore it this time.
Ellie steps closer again. Careful this time. Like she’s approaching something fragile.
“Hey,” she says softly. You don’t look at her.
“Don’t,” you mutter, but there’s no bite to it.
Her hand hovers near your arm—hesitating, like she’s not sure if you’ll let her—then rests there anyway.
“You don’t have to carry this alone,” she says.
The words hit harder than the pulses.
For a second…Just a second…You lean into it.
Then you straighten again. Pulling yourself back together. Forcing control back into place.
“…We’re close,” you say, voice steadier now. “Closer than we should be.”
Dina exhales. “Great. Love that.”
Jesse glances at the tear, then back to you. “Can you track it from here?”
You exhale slowly, forcing the pressure back down, forcing your focus into something sharp.
Jesse doesn’t argue—he steps back first, pulling Dina with him. Ellie hesitates, eyes still on you, but when you don’t look at her… she listens.
You roll your shoulders once, grounding yourself, then lift your hand slightly, the air shifts.
Subtle at first—like a breath drawn in by the room itself—then sharper as your magic threads outward, dark and precise, like orange smoke. It seeps into cracks, into dust, into the uneven ground beneath your feet. The rubble trembles.
Your focus narrows, pulling tighter, deeper, until—The ground responds.
Stone grinds against stone, fragments lifting, shifting, dragging themselves aside as if the orange smoke is pulling them into place. Dust curls upward in slow spirals before scattering, revealing smoother rock beneath.
The center of the chamber is exposed now, revealing the tear between worlds.
Ellie steps closer again, drawn to it despite herself.
You step forward slowly, lowering yourself down. Knees against cold stone.
Hands hovering for just a second over the space where the air twists in on itself.
That pressure behind your eyes again—but sharper now. More focused. Like it’s waiting for you to make the first move, your eyes light up, the familiar orange glow replacing your natural eye colour.
You place your hands flat against the ground.
You let your magic go deeper. Not outward this time. Down. Through the stone. Through the tear.
It hits immediately. Not like before—not a pulse, not a pressure—A connection.
Your breath catches sharply as something on the other side answers.
Your fingers press harder into the stone as your magic reaches further, searching, tracing the path of that energy back to its source.
The chamber around you fades. The others—gone. Something vast enough that your magic feels small for the first time in your centuries long life.
Your magic strains, pulling further, deeper, trying to follow the thread of that dark energy—And then you see it. Not clearly. But enough.
Shapes, not one. Many. Bound. Contained.
Demonic energy—compressed, layered, stored exactly like you feared—
Something holding it there.
Your breath shudders, “…no…” you whisper.
The word barely leaves you. Because that thing—It isn’t just collecting. It’s building.
And then it turns. Not physically. Not like anything you’ve ever seen. But its attention shifts. Directly toward you. The connection snaps tighter. Violent.
Your body jolts, fingers digging into the stone as something pushes back through the tear—against your magic, against your mind.
You could feel your physical body becoming weaker as this presence feeds on your power, your power was in its territory. You didn’t hold the high ground in this place.
Ellie’s voice is closer now, and then her hand is on your shoulder, firm, grounding—
You tear yourself back. Hard. The connection breaks.
The chamber slams back into place around you, sound, air, weight—all of it rushing in at once.
Your breath comes sharp, uneven, your hands still pressed to the ground like if you let go, you might fall straight through it.
“What did you see?” Jesse asks, low.
Ellie doesn’t speak. Her hand is still on you.
You swallow once, forcing your breathing to even out, forcing the image out of your mind before it roots too deep.
“What you’re dealing with… it’s not just one entity.”
Your hands slowly lift from the ground.
“It’s a system,” you continue. “A structure. Something that’s been built to hold them.”
Dina frowns. “Hold them for what?”
“No idea,” you admit, “But it knows I saw it.”
Jesse exhales slowly. “That sounds like a problem.”
You push yourself up from the ground, unsteady for just a fraction of a second before you catch it.
“It is,” you say. Ellie’s hand doesn’t leave your arm, “It knows we’re hunting it. Look, I want to help you guys, I really do. But this is a fight bigger than me”
Jesse frowns deeply before arguing, “You’re the high warlock, that comes with some responsibility for shit like this”
“This thing gets my power and you’re all fucked…I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more use to you, excuse me” You brushed Ellie’s hand off before walking back toward the stairway, exiting the underground network.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The graveyard stretches out ahead—quiet, empty, untouched by everything you just felt.
Your steps are steady, controlled, but there’s an edge to them now. Purpose. Distance.
“You’re seriously walking away?” Ellie’s voice cuts through the silence behind you.
Footsteps quicken against gravel. She catches up, moving in front of you this time—forcing you to stop unless you’re willing to walk straight through her.
Her breathing is slightly uneven, her expression tight—not angry, not yet, but getting there.
“You don’t get to just decide that,” she says.
Your gaze lifts to hers, calm despite everything still coiling under your skin.
Her jaw tightens. “That’s not the same thing.”
Silence stretches between you. The graveyard feels smaller now. Closer.
“You saw it,” she presses. “You know what this is. You’re the only one who actually understands what we’re dealing with and now you’re just—what—leaving us to handle it?”
Your expression doesn’t change, “Yes.”
That lands harder than anything else. Ellie takes a step closer, “You don’t mean that.”
You tilt your head slightly, “I do.”
“No, you don’t,” she pushes, voice sharper now. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t have come at all.”
You look past her briefly, toward the gates.
“If that thing gets hold of my power,” you say quietly, “this stops being your problem.”
Her brow furrows. “What does that mean?”
“It means it won’t just take demons,” you say. “It won’t stay contained to one city. One realm. It will tear through everything.”
“Then all the more reason for you to stay,” she argues immediately.
You shake your head once, “No.”
Her frustration spikes. “Why not?!”
“Because I’m exactly what it needs.”
Your voice drops, quieter now—but sharper.
“It’s already reaching for me,” you continue. “You saw what happened down there. That wasn’t an accident. It recognized what I am.”
Ellie’s expression shifts—understanding, but not acceptance.
“So we keep you away from it,” she says. “We protect you—”
Her eyes flash. “Try me.”
You step closer now. Closing the distance she created.
“And if you fail?” you ask quietly, “Ellie…If it gets me,” you continue, “it doesn’t just win. It evolves.”
Ellie exhales slowly, running a hand through her hair before letting it fall.
“You’re scared,” she says, “I’ve seen you face things worse than this,” she continues. “Things that should’ve—” she cuts herself off, shaking her head. “And you didn’t walk away then.”
Your jaw tightens slightly. Because she won’t let it go. Because she never did.
“Because this time,” you say, quieter now, “walking away might actually save something.”
Ellie steps closer again. Now you’re barely a breath apart, “And staying might save everything,” she fires back.
“You always do this,” she says, quieter now. “You decide what the outcome is going to be before anyone else gets a say. Including us.”
Your gaze shifted away at that, a heaviness in your chest you’ve tried to drown out with business and drugs.
“You decided how that was going to end before it even had the chance to be anything else,” she continues, voice steady—but there’s something under it now. Something older. “You didn’t ask me what I wanted. You didn’t give it time. You just—”
“Ended it” She finished after a moment, like this had been on her chest for the past year.
“That was different,” you say softly. But it doesn’t sound convincing. Ellie lets out a quiet breath, shaking her head.
“You thought you were protecting me,” she goes on. “Decided it was better to walk away before something could go wrong.”
Her voice softens—but it doesn’t lose its edge.
“You didn’t even give me the choice to stay…And now you’re doing it again,” she says. “Just on a bigger scale.”
You glance back at her. There’s no anger in her expression now. Just something steadier. Something that lasts longer.
“You don’t get to decide that we can’t handle this,” she continues. “You don’t get to decide that I can’t handle this.”
“You didn’t get to decide that back then either.”
You exhale slowly, tension pulling tight across your shoulders.
“That wasn’t about whether you could handle it,” you say.
Ellie tilts her head slightly. “Then what was it about?”
“…It was about what would happen if you couldn’t,” you admit.
“So you made that call for me,” she says.
You don’t deny it. That’s answer enough.
Ellie lets out a quiet, disbelieving breath.
“God, you haven’t changed,” she mutters.
“And you’re doing it again,” she says, lifting her gaze back to yours. “You’re deciding how this ends before it even starts.”
“You’re deciding we lose.”
Your eyes narrow slightly, “That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you’re doing,” she counters. “Walking away, leaving us to deal with something you know we don’t fully understand—how is that not the same thing?”
Silence stretches. Tight. Uncomfortable. Honest.
“You think leaving is protecting us,” she continues. “Just like you thought leaving me was.”
Her voice softens again—but it doesn’t weaken.
“It didn’t feel like protection,” she says quietly. “It felt like you didn’t trust me enough to stay.”
Your gaze flickers. Just for a second. Enough. Ellie sees it.
“And this?” she gestures slightly around you—the graveyard, the world, everything sitting beneath it. “This feels the same.”
“You don’t get to make that choice for me again.”
The wind shifts faintly through the graveyard, brushing past without meaning anything.
Your mind pulls in two directions at once.
“…You don’t understand what’s at stake,” you say, quieter now. Ellie doesn’t flinch.
“Then help me understand,” she replies, “You don’t get to shut me out because you’re scared of how it might end,” she adds. “You already tried that.”
Your shoulders ease, just slightly—barely noticeable, but enough—and when you finally meet her eyes again, there’s no distance left in yours, no deflection, no careful avoidance. “You don’t make this easy,” you murmur, quieter than before, something almost worn and honest slipping through.
“Okay.” You whispered softly.
