Haatim, Damien, and Frieda approached the dilapidated cabin with practiced stealth. The rotting wood creaked beneath their feet as they entered, the stench of decay assaulting their senses.
The sun had nearly disappeared behind the treeline when Haatim finally pulled the car onto a narrow, overgrown dirt road. They drove for another few minutes before coming to a stop in a small clearing. A lone figure stood waiting, his silhouette barely visible in the fading light.
As they sped down the highway, Frieda twisted in her seat to face Petrillo and Emma in the back. Her expression was grim, all traces of the earlier training session's levity gone.
The morning's surprise combat session set the tone for the rest of the day. Haatim and Frieda put Petrillo and Emma through their paces, drilling them on everything from hand-to-hand combat to demon lore. By the time the sun reached its zenith, both young Hunters were exhausted but exhilarated.
Petrillo jolted awake, his heart racing. The digital clock on his nightstand read 5:37 AM, its red numbers glowing accusingly in the darkness. He'd been having that dream again – the one where he was running from something he couldn't see, his legs moving in slow motion as if trapped in molasses.
Frieda caught up with Petrillo and Emma as they were about to head home for the night. "Hold up, you two," she called out, her voice carrying a note of authority that made both young Hunters pause in their tracks.
Abigail watched in horror when Haatim disappeared into the crevice. It seemed like watching through a blurry window, as she remained only vaguely aware of her surroundings. Still locked in mortal combat with the demon, it tried to finish crushing her.
11 min read
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