Chapter Text
Ashlyn heard them first.
The soft, wet clicking of claws on asphalt, the hiss of breath that carried the scent of rusted iron and rot. The phantoms were out there, just beyond the veil of shadows, licking the air for fear, waiting for the light to die.
"Stop the jeep," she said flatly.
Aiden barely had time to turn his head. “What?”
He looked at Ben, who was also confused.
Ashlyn yanked out her earplugs. “Now.”
Screech. The jeep jerked sideways, tires skidding against the cracked phantom-road. The headlights sliced through the black fog of the dimension, landing on twisted trees and a decaying street sign half-swallowed by vines. Ben gripped the steering wheel.
Tyler looked sick. “Why’d we stop?! We're sitting ducks out here!”
Taylor clutched her flashlight tighter. “Guys, please, don't—don’t yell—”
“They’re near.” Ashlyn’s voice was hollow. Slate green eyes scanned the thick dark, narrowing at something the others couldn’t see. Or hear. “Four. Maybe five.”
Logan flicked the safety off his rifle. “We should’ve never left the School Bus Graveyard.”
“Gunshop was necessary,” Tyler muttered, but his hand was already gripping his bat tight enough to make it shake. “We were running low.”
“We had time,” Ashlyn hissed. “But something’s wrong. They’re moving weird.”
Aiden was grinnings yet his eyes were darting, calculating. “How weird?”
“Like they’re not hunting,” she whispered. “They’re waiting.”
And then the scream came.
Not from them.
From above.
It dropped like a nightmare — all claws and grins and tar-colored skin that shimmered like oil in moonlight. Ben swerved the jeep too late. The phantom hit the windshield. Then vanished.
Then everything shattered.
Glass. Screams. Steel. Bones.
Ashlyn's ears were ringing.
She coughed, tasting copper. Her body lay twisted between a shattered door and the gravel-coated road, thrown clean from the jeep. The smell of burning oil and blood filled her nose.
Her vision wobbled. One of her earplugs was gone.
"—shlyn! ASHLYN!"
That was Aiden. Distant. Muffled. Desperate.
She tried to move. Her leg was broken—bent wrong, bone pushing against skin. Pain didn't matter. She sat up anyway, vision blurry.
The phantoms were already here.
The fog pulsed with the low growl of their hunger. Five—no, six of them—closing in. Their bodies were tall, too tall, spines disjointed and twitching unnaturally. Their grins stretched from cheekbone to ear, blood dripping from their black teeth like ink.
"LIGHT! GET THE LIGHT—!" Tyler screamed somewhere behind her.
Then the headlights sputtered. Flickered.
Died.
And the world went black.
Aiden ran toward her, dragging a flare from his belt. But he was too far. Too slow.
One of the phantoms leapt.
Ashlyn turned her head—just in time to see the claws coming.
Too fast.
Too real.
They sliced clean through her chest.
She didn’t scream.
Her breath just... left her. Her body crumpled to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut.
Aiden caught her just as her eyes began to dull. He dropped the flare. Light bloomed around them, sending the phantoms screeching back into the shadows.
But it was too late.
“Ashlyn—hey, hey, stay with me.” He was shaking her, trying to hold the blood in with trembling hands. “Don’t do this. Don’t fucking do this.”
She blinked slowly, lips trembling, trying to speak—but nothing came out. Not a sound. Just a soft gasp. And then her eyes rolled back.
And she shifted.
12:07 AM — Human Realm.
The living room was quiet. Taylor had just begun to doze on the sleeping bag when Ashlyn’s body spasmed violently.
At first, it sounded like someone gasping for air.
Then choking.
“...Ash?” Logan turned, blinking sleep from his eyes. “Ashlyn—?”
Ashlyn’s back arched, mouth wide open as she gurgled, eyes wide and unseeing. Her limbs thrashed against the floor, jerking uncontrollably. Foam began to spill from her mouth. Her whole body trembled like a wire pulled too tight. Eyes wide, black.
“ASHLYN!” Taylor screamed, rushing to her.
Aiden woke with a start—and instantly knew.
“No—NO—no no no no—” He crawled over, grabbed her wrists, tried to hold her still. “Ashlyn, you're okay, just come back! You’re back! We’re out! It’s okay now!”
“She’s seizing!” Logan yelled, trembling as he held her head to the side. “Get her on her side—DON’T let her choke!”
“CALL HER PARENTS!” Tyler shouted, fumbling for his phone but dropping it with shaking hands.
Ben punched the wall, teeth clenched, turning his back to hide the tears welling in his eyes.
Emma burst into the room first, in a t-shirt and pajama pants, Mike on her heels.
The sight of her daughter convulsing on the floor stopped her heart.
“MIKE, CALL AN AMBULANCE!”
“I AM!”
Ashlyn’s body had gone still now—but not peaceful. Her breaths were shallow. Her eyes were open—but vacant. Gone.
Aiden just held her hand. Blood smeared his knuckles from where he’d punched the floor. His grin was gone. All that was left was something raw. Something afraid.
“She’s not waking up,” Taylor whispered, trembling.
“She’s stuck,” Aiden muttered, eyes never leaving her face. “She’s still there.”
The sirens in the distance barely registered.
Three Days Later – Hospital Room
Machines beeped steadily. Tubes ran in and out of Ashlyn’s pale form. Her braids had been undone, lying limp across the pillow.
“She’s in a coma,” the doctor had said. “But there’s... no head trauma, no internal injury. It's like her mind just... shut down.”
Logan hadn’t left the room. Not once.
Taylor sat beside Ashlyn's bed every day, whispering about the garden she wanted to build when she woke up.
Ben kept crying and healing phantom bruises on the others, even though no one asked.
Tyler didn’t speak.
Aiden... disappeared.
Until the fourth night.
He walked into the hospital room alone, bloodied knuckles and all.
He knelt beside Ashlyn’s bed, gripping her cold hand with both of his.
“You’re not allowed to die,” he muttered, voice trembling. “Not you. Not like that.”
No grin. No smirk. Just broken glass behind his eyes.
“You're the only reason I don’t lose my damn mind in that place. You keep me grounded, Ash. You—” his voice cracked. “You make me want to be someone. And I can’t lose that. Not again.”
He put something on the bed: her earplugs.
“They're still circling, you know. The phantoms. I can hear them now too.”
He looked toward the window, then back at her.
“They're waiting. Like before.”
His smile came back then — but it wasn’t joyful.
It was war.
“When you wake up,” he whispered, “We’re going back in. And I am going to kill every last one of them.”
Inside Her Mind – Phantom Dimension
Ashlyn stood barefoot in a grey field, her freckles smudged with blood, her expression blank as the fog swirled around her.
The phantoms hissed, circling closer.
But she wasn't afraid.
Because behind her...
She could hear footsteps.
....
“Ashy?”