The Terrifying Overture

"I suspected Old Whateley long ago—I once saw him lighting a fire on Sentinel Hill," Mr. Corey said. "But by then I'd already bought this land, had Paul, and there was always that sliver of hope in my heart that maybe life would be stable from then on."

He helped Mrs. Corey onto the horse; she was still a bit annoyed at being woken up, and she looked at Hope. "Little Hope hasn't come over to play in a long time."

"Yeah, yeah," Hope echoed awkwardly.

"Is Wilbur giving you trouble? I heard Paul say—"

Mr. Corey raised a hand to stop Mrs. Corey, fixing his gaze on Hope. "You're not an ordinary person either, are you? I just checked the house—windows and doors were all shut—but you still managed to sneak in."

Without needing help, Mr. Corey swung himself onto the horse.

He patted Hope on the shoulder. "As you can see, I can barely lift a gun anymore. Otherwise, I might've tried taking a shot at Old Whateley."

Hope nodded with a smile, acknowledging that he could see the old man was full of crap about not being able to lift a gun—he'd held it steady enough just now—but he could still understand a retired cowboy wanting to hang up his spurs and chase a peaceful life with a family.

But you don't have to say it out loud, he thought. I risked Wilbur finding out to come warn you, and you don't even say thanks—instead you give me some 'can't help you, you've got to walk your own path' nonsense.

Like I don't already know that.

"Want to come with us?" Mr. Corey asked.

"What?" Hope froze.

"Come with us. Look, we've got three horses... Even if you can't ride, you can share mine—Jenny's great."

If Hope guessed right, this horse was named Jenny.

He'd thought Mr. Corey was a family man just a moment ago, but now his words sounded like he was planning to never come back. Such a big house, such a big plot of land, and the couple had barely packed any luggage... Hope remembered Paul saying Mr. Corey had survived a shipwreck as a child, the only one left from his family.

He looked at Mr. Corey with dawning understanding. He hadn't noticed before, but this middle-aged man seemed to be trembling.

"Don't worry—I've survived monsters before." When he said this to Hope, Hope thought Mr. Corey was comforting him, but it turned out he was talking to himself.

"No," Hope shook his head, half-serious, half-joking. "I've still got some unfinished business with them."

Said like that, it sounded like he was ready to be a lone hero and destroy the Whateley House.

But he knew he didn't have that ability. He still hadn't figured out how Wilbur had taken him down that day. He didn't want to leave only because he feared Wilbur's "scorched earth" retaliation.

And besides, no matter what... Hope thought with a flicker of hope... someone will still come to save me, even if I've been waiting a long time.

Mr. Corey nodded. "Everyone has their own path to walk."

He'd finally said it, but it didn't sound half bad...

Just as Hope's mind was wandering, Mr. Corey's tone suddenly shifted, and he pressed something into Hope's arms. "But accepting help from others is also a virtue."

It was an iron-gray heart-shaped padlock, with a key still inserted.

Hope felt a flicker of recognition—it seemed to be the one from the front door of the Corey house.

"A curious little thing," Mr. Corey said. "I came across it by chance. I hung it on the room's door and carried the key with me. When someone tries to enter that room, you get a sense of it."

Mr. and Mrs. Corey had already ridden onto the path. Jenny snorted, ready for a long journey.

The rest Mr. Corey shouted back: "But as long as you carry the key, once you leave that room, you'll grow weaker and weaker—you have to watch out for that. Also, don't make the room too big, or it won't react quickly enough!"

So that's how he knew I'd entered the room? Hope thought thoughtfully. If Mr. Corey was telling the truth, this lock would be incredibly useful to him.

Hope closed his eyes. Since the Coreys had already left, he might as well head back to the storage shed.

"Ha—er—ee—ya—ya—ah—"

A low, hoarse voice like thunder rumbled from the distance.

Hope opened his eyes and saw two figures stop far off—the Coreys, who had just set out. From here, he could hear the horses' uneasy neighs and Mr. Corey cursing at his mount.

The sky seemed to grow darker. Something was absorbing the remaining light. From Paul's backyard came the furious barking of hounds, quickly turning into fearful whimpers, until there was no sound at all.

Like a tsunami, the transparent monster surged from the direction of the Whateley House.

Wilbur hadn't been able to catch it.

It was faster than Hope had estimated. It had arrived early.

Freed from the room's restraint, the creature finally revealed its full form—larger than any being Hope knew, defying every biological principle he understood. Perhaps it wasn't even a living thing. Through his blurry vision, it crossed a hill, and every plant in its path turned from vivid green to pitch black—like a natural disaster.

Hope trembled violently. He realized he'd made a mistake. He should have used "Uncertainty" to teleport the Coreys away directly, instead of waiting for them to ride off.

He tried to make amends, closing his eyes, only to find that "Uncertainty" was no longer usable. He tried to open his eyes, then found he couldn't move at all.

He heard the dull, low sound drawing closer. He felt a breeze brush past his body.

He heard Mr. Corey stop cursing his beloved horse Jenny and start cursing the transparent monster instead. The voice started loud and furious, then faded into weakness and despair.

Stop, Hope thought.

Stop!

He felt his muscles tense. Fear and self-blame gave way to anger, which built up in his brain, scattered something, then surged through his entire body.

He felt his fists clench, his jagged, canine-like nails digging painfully into his palms.

"Stop!" Hope shouted.

He broke free of the transparent monster's control—only for an instant, long enough to twist his face into a terrifying snarl.

He could only force out that one sound, but the sound was a command.

After this command was issued, the dull, thunderous rumble vanished.

The only sound left in the world was Mr. Corey's weak, rasping curses.

Then...

A single moment later...

Hope, still unable to open his eyes, felt a faint breeze.

The breeze quickly ceased, vanishing along with Mr. Corey's curses.

The monster that Wilbur had failed to stop ultimately did not obey Hope's command either.