Chapter 3: The Hunt Begins

Chapter 3: The Hunt Begins

The mist thickened, swallowing the street whole.

Ezra stood tall, blade gleaming under the sickly gaslights, the weight of centuries of tradition behind his every movement.

Sunny, meanwhile, clutched her backpack like a lifeline, peeking nervously from behind a toppled newspaper stand.

The first demon lunged.

It was grotesque — its flesh patchworked together with scales and rotting skin, jaws distending like a serpent’s.

Ezra moved.

A blur. A flash.

The demon’s head thudded to the cobblestones before its body even registered the cut.

Sunny gagged loudly.

"You just— You chopped its head off!" she squeaked, her voice breaking.

Ezra didn’t turn.

"That’s usually how you kill things trying to eat you."

Another demon darted forward, spindly and spider-like.

Sunny screamed — a shrill, ear-splitting sound — and chucked her backpack at it.

The demon, surprisingly, stumbled back, stunned by the heavy impact.

Ezra spared her a sideways glance.

"...Huh. Not bad."

Sunny beamed for half a second — before tripping over her own feet and landing flat on her back.

Ezra sighed, dispatching the spider-demon with a lazy slash.

"You’re gonna be a lot of work," he muttered.

More shapes emerged — dozens now — clawing, slithering, whispering her name into the mist.

"Sunnyyy..." they hissed. "Radiant One... Delicious..."

Sunny crawled frantically behind Ezra, who calmly rolled his shoulders.

"Change of plan," he said. "Run on my signal."

"What signal?!"

"You’ll know it."

Ezra closed his eyes briefly, gathering his strength.

The air shimmered around him, and then —

He roared.

A deafening, guttural sound, like the battle cry of an ancient army.

The demons faltered instinctively.

"THAT’S THE SIGNAL?!" Sunny shrieked, scrambling to her feet.

Ezra grabbed her wrist and yanked her into a sprint.

They barreled through the fog, twisting through back alleys and shattered courtyards, Ezra’s blade flashing to cut down anything in their path.

Sunny struggled to keep up, panting heavily.

"I thought priests were supposed to be all about peace and kindness!" she gasped.

Ezra grunted. "Yeah, well, I skipped that day of Sunday school."

Behind them, the horde screamed and gave chase.

Sunny dared a glance back — huge black shapes, mouths brimming with teeth, scrambled over each other in a frenzy.

She screamed again.

"Eyes forward, dumbass!" Ezra barked.

They rounded a corner and crashed through a crumbling wrought-iron gate into —

An abandoned church.

The doors hung loose on their hinges. Ivy clawed up the walls. Stained glass windows depicted forgotten saints, their faces worn and sorrowful.

It was perfect.

Ezra shoved the doors closed, jamming an old spear through the handles.

"That’ll hold ‘em... for like five minutes," he muttered.

Sunny staggered into the center of the nave, looking around in awe and terror.

"What now?!"

Ezra wiped blood off his blade onto his coat and pointed to a staircase descending into the crypts.

"We make a stand down there. Stone walls, one entrance. Easier to defend."

Sunny hesitated.

Down there, the darkness seemed even thicker — almost alive.

"Hey, uh... crazy idea," she said nervously. "What if we just, you know, prayed really hard instead?"

Ezra gave her a look that could have frozen lava.

"Move."

Sunny moved.

They descended into the crypts, lit only by Ezra’s cracked lighter and Sunny’s shaking flashlight.

The air was cold, damp, filled with the distant sound of water dripping.

Skulls grinned at them from ancient alcoves.

Sunny shuddered violently.

"This is the worst day of my life," she mumbled.

Ezra knelt, quickly scattering salt and chalk symbols onto the floor in an ancient defensive circle.

Sunny watched, wide-eyed.

"What is that? Magic?"

"Faith," Ezra said simply.

She stared at him, then at the creepy drawings.

"...Right. Faith."

Above them, the doors shuddered.

The demons had arrived.

The crypt seemed to breathe with the weight of their fury.

Sunny clutched her little gun again, even though her hands were trembling like leaves in a hurricane.

Ezra stood and faced the stairwell, blade ready.

"You stay inside the circle no matter what," he said quietly. "You’re the Radiant Vessel. You’re the key."

Sunny’s breath caught.

"...The key to what?"

Ezra’s jaw tightened.

"To saving this world... or destroying it."

Before she could process that, the stairwell exploded inward — and the battle for Sunny’s soul truly began.

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