Not a Damsel in Distress!

The black fog crept in first—slow, slithering, silent.

It curled beneath the door like fingers hunting for something to clutch. It didn't drift. It stalked. Coiling into the room in slow tendrils that made the air heavy, choking, and wrong. The lights above flickered—once, twice—then popped with a crackle, plunging everything into trembling shadows.

Samantha froze.

Ron's breath hitched beside her. "That's… that's not normal fog."

"No," she whispered, clutching the pendant again as it pulsed wildly against her chest. "That's not fog at all."

The shadows writhed. The mist thickened, forming something vaguely human—taller than either of them, long arms stretched and dragging behind like smoke-trails. No face. Just void.

Samantha's lungs stopped working.

Then—

Creeeaaak.

The stairwell behind them groaned.

"Ron." She turned to him. "Your mom—"

"She's upstairs," he said, voice barely a whisper. "She doesn't know what's happening—"

"RON!" Samantha grabbed his arm as the thing moved—gliding forward in an unnatural, weightless lurch.

Ron stepped in front of her without thinking, baseball bat raised.

It did nothing.

The bat passed through the creature like mist through fingers. The thing only paused, tilting its formless head like it was studying them. Deciding.

Then, it surged.

Samantha screamed.

The room seemed to stretch, walls bending with pressure and darkness. The pendant flared blindingly, shielding them for a heartbeat—but it wouldn't hold.

They were out of time.

And then—

CRASH!

Glass shattered from the window.

A streak of silver and black exploded into the room.

A blur—fast, fierce, calculated—collided with the smoke creature mid-surge, knocking it backwards with a violent, roaring hiss.

Ron blinked. "What the—"

"Move!" barked a voice. Sharp. Unapologetic.

J.

She landed like thunder—combat boots scraping across the floor, blades in both hands. Her braids whipped like storm-tails. Her eyes flashed with command. One look at her and the chaos made sense.

She didn't hesitate. Didn't flinch.

She faced the thing.

"Get them out!" J shouted over her shoulder. "M, you're on it!"

"Already here," came a second voice—lower, steadier.

M stepped through the shattered door like a shadow peeled off the night. One hand lifted, glowing faintly blue. The other extended toward Samantha and Ron.

"Come with me," he said, calm but urgent. "Now."

Ron didn't move.

His mom.

His house.

Everything was falling apart around him, and now strangers were coming through windows and portals and monsters were dripping smoke from the ceiling—

Samantha pulled him. "We have to go."

The creature lunged for them again, but M stepped forward, flinging out his glowing hand. A blast of force rippled through the room, colliding with the shadow and knocking it backward again.

J danced around it—striking, dodging, spinning like poetry with a pulse.

Ron followed. Staggering. Shaking.

M led them into the hall.

But outside—

Three cloaked figures waited.

Not mist. Not shadows.

Real.

Present.

And watching.

"They're trying to box us in," M muttered. "Classic move."

The tallest of the cloaked ones stepped forward, raising a curved staff. The air warped around it.

Ron's panic surged. "What are they?! What do they want?!"

"They want her," M replied. "But they'll take all of us if they can."

The figure raised their hand—

But J exploded through the front door behind them like lightning wrapped in skin.

She didn't give them a chance to speak.

Didn't give them anything.

Her blade flashed—clean, fast, furious.

One figure dropped.

The others barely had time to react before she was on them.

Dodging. Swinging. Knocking one to the ground with a fluid twist of her heel.

M grabbed Ron by the arm. "Don't stop. Don't look—just RUN."

They fled down the street, past cracked pavement and storm drains overflowing with rain. Samantha's lungs burned. Her legs screamed. The pendant kept glowing, leading her like it knew where safety was.

Behind them, J finished the last figure with a swift strike, breathing hard but untouched. She sprinted after them.

When they finally stopped, it was far from Ron's house—deep in the woods, near an old overgrown trail that pulsed faintly with light.

And that's when Ron cracked.

He fell to his knees, hands in his hair, eyes wide and wet. His chest heaved as everything came crashing in.

"My mom," he gasped. "Oh my god. My mom's in that house. What if that thing—what if she wakes up and it—"

"She won't," M said gently.

"You don't know that!" Ron's voice was wild now. Broken. "She's all I have! And that—thing—it was in our living room! It was in my house. You don't get it. You people come in like stormtroopers, but I'm not—I'm not like you! I'm just—"

"You're scared." M knelt in front of him. "And that's okay."

Ron stared at him, jaw clenched.

"But listen to me," M continued, voice low and unwavering. "I wouldn't have left her if she wasn't safe. The moment we pulled you out, I sealed the house. Nothing is getting in. Not now. Not tonight."

Ron stared.

Samantha crouched beside him. "Ron…"

"I couldn't protect her," he whispered. "I couldn't even protect you."

She reached for his hand. "You did. You stood in front of me. You always do."

He shook his head, but he didn't let go.

"We can't go back," M said. "Not yet. They've found this world. They're pushing through. We have to take you both somewhere safe. Somewhere they can't follow."

Ron sniffed, dragging a shaky breath. "Where?"

M looked at J.

J simply nodded once. "It's time."

Ron frowned. "Time for what?"

M stood. "Time to go to our world."

The silence that followed was sharp.

Ron blinked. "Like—what, a different dimension?"

J smirked. "I mean. Yeah. Basically."

Ron blinked twice. "Okay, that's… wow. That's a lot. I was just trying to survive math class last week, now I'm apparently in a horror movie with teleporting priests and soul-hunting fog monsters."

Samantha whispered, "You're taking us to where this all started, aren't you?"

M looked at her. "Yes. Where it started. Where you began."

"I don't remember it," she said. "But I feel it calling."

Ron stood slowly, wiping his face with the sleeve of his hoodie. He still looked pale. Still shaken. But his hands stopped trembling.

"Well," he muttered, voice dry, "I'd rather go on a dimensional field trip than sit around waiting for whatever that was to come back for seconds. Just saying."

A beat of silence.

Then J snorted. "He's charming. I see why you kept him."

Ron blinked. "Wait—you mean she had options??"

And for a moment—just one moment—they laughed. Even Samantha, breathless as she was, let the edge of a smile pull at her lips.

M turned toward the clearing, raising his hands.

Light shimmered.

A circle began to form in the air—pulsing with the same color as the pendant.

Samantha turned.

Looked back.

Her eyes found the horizon—beyond the trees, beyond the shadows—home.

Her mother.

"I'll be back," she whispered, fingers brushing the pendant as it dimmed. "Please stay safe."

The wind stirred. As if it carried her words away.

Then—

They stepped through the portal.

Into whatever waited on the other side.