Curtis Ackers sighed.

He sat in his beaten, rundown truck, cold beer in hand, splotched shirt stuck to his gut, sweat-encrusted cap glued to his head. The truck was on the edge of Toluca Lake, the wheels digging into the dirt. He watched the gentle lapping of the green water, swigged from his beer, then spat it out the window.

For days he'd been back in the shithole that was Silent Hill. He'd grown up there, had lived there his entire life, but this was the first time he'd come back ever since the fog had arisen and the people had gone. Incredibly, the town was fine now, unchanged, empty as it was. The events from several months before seemed almost a memory—gone were the destroyed streets and ruined storefronts; gone was the enormous tower at its center; gone was the omnipresent fog. Now there was only a quaint, almost disquieting peace. There was only the gray light of the sun. Only the sound of the wind and the water.

It filled him with unrest, with nervousness. He didn't like it here, even if it was supposedly purified, even if the demonic presence was gone. Things like that, they left stains. Imprints. You never got too far away from them, could never escape them. They lingered. They bled into the ground, worked their way to the roots, to the very bones. Silent Hill was saved? Silent Hill was no longer the most evil fucking place he'd ever been? No—Silent Hill was still just as corrupt, still just as damaged. The stem had been cut, but it hadn't been pulled. It would grow back.

His cell phone rang. He clutched his can of beer tightly, almost tempted to not answer—but he did. He had to.

"Yeah?"

"Curtis. Did you enjoy your visit?"

"Sure," he said. "Yeah, sure. It's a real peach being here again."

"Of course. Come back. It's time."

Curtis said nothing for a moment, still watching the water, and then he spoke. "You sure about this?" he asked. "I mean, really sure? There's no going back. We open that thing up, what happened last time'll be like a joke. It won't even compare."

Margaret Holloway laughed on the other end. "Are you afraid?"

"No, ma'am. I—"

"It's alright, Curtis. It's alright." Holloway smiled, sitting in the dark of her office, the triangular prism resting in her lap glowing red and orange. "The truth is, you should be afraid. Fear will keep you alive."

+ Princess Heart and the Never-Ending Night! +

Episode 01: A New Threat Emerges! Princess Heart Returns!

Heather stood alone in a grassy field. The sky was a deep blue, spotted with clouds. There was a single tree, tall with a wide canopy, its branches rustling in the wind. She closed her eyes, felt the same wind on her face, felt it run through her hair. She spread her arms out, extended her fingers.

This is a place of death—but you're not dead. You have a bright future, Heather.

She turned, hearing something on the breeze. "Alessa?" She waited, listening, and then something else passed by, some other lingering memory, some other missing piece.

But you have to go back. You belong in the world of the living, with everyone else.

Tears stung her cheeks. "Dad?" She tried to follow the voice, but it was gone, far off in the distance, lost. "Daddy—"

It's okay, Cheryl. We'll always be here. Always.

"In my heart," she said, raising a hand to her chest.

And then she woke up.


The window by her bed was already full of white light; she glanced over at the clock, saw it was 10:13. Fuck, she thought, lying back, staring at the dark, cracked ceiling. Work in an hour.

The dream she had was already fading, already becoming fragmented and senseless. She recalled a breeze, a feeling of wind, but that was it. Only one constant—her father's voice, calling to her, telling her it would be all right. Her sister, reassuring her, pushing her to go on.

She got up, the wooden floorboards of the tiny apartment creaking under her bare feet. Her side of the bedroom was sparse, with just a small shelf with some trinkets and books atop it. She reached over, touched the dusty pocket mirror gleaming in the light. It was cold, but she could sense the latent power within it simmering, bubbling. She yawned, walked over to the restroom across the hall, looked in the mirror. Her hair, still its natural brown, had grown in the months since she had moved here. Her eyes had gotten darker. She had lost some weight. She felt more tired lately, more sluggish. Emptier. Less whole.

She splashed some water on her face, slapped on some cleanser.

In the kitchen, the sounds of the street below were more apparent—traffic, laughter. She rummaged through the cabinets, grimaced. "No Trix?" she murmured, pushing aside a bag of chips, a half-empty jar of peanut butter. There was the box of Lucky Charms—she shook it, heard nothing.

"Great. No breakfast for me, then."

She was halfway to the coffee machine, the pot already long cold, when the door to the apartment opened, letting in a draft. Heather turned, squinting from the glare of the window. "That you, Claudia?"

"Yes, it's me." Claudia walked inside, bundled in a large black overcoat, a beret on her head. She had replaced her glasses with contacts, letting her blue eyes shine. "You just woke up?"

"Yeah." Heather grunted. "No cereal, though."

Claudia smirked, set down a paper bag on the small kitchen table. "I got your Lucky Charms, some more chocolate syrup, some microwave dinners—enough to get us by for the week."

"Claudia, when was the last time I told you I love you?"

"Tuesday. Hey, Heather, listen." She watched as the other girl dipped into the bag and pulled out the box of Lucky Charms. "There's still time for you to register for the fall semester. Really, we can get a loan, something without interest."

Heather popped open the box, poured some cereal into a bowl. "I don't know, Claudia. We're barely getting by as it is." She pointed to the refrigerator. "Can you get me some milk?"

Claudia reached in, handed over the carton. "I'm just saying we can do it. At least you'd have a goal—not just working at Happy Burger almost every day of the week." She sighed. "No offense."

"None taken." Heather plopped some cereal into her mouth, chewed it thoughtfully. "Honestly, Clau, I don't even know what I want to do. Eileen's going off to USM, you're working at a library, taking classes—and I'm working at Happy Burger. What the fuck happened, you know? I was happier when there were demons to kill and shit to blow up. I can't believe I actually miss saying 'Heather beam,' holy shit."

She saw Claudia's face tighten, saw the pain cloud her eyes. "Hey, sorry," she said. "Sometimes I just blabber. You know."

"It's alright," Claudia said. "It happened." She mustered a smile. "Well, I'm going to get ready for class. You probably need to clean up. When does your shift start?"

"Like an hour. No big deal."

"Okay." Claudia headed for the hallway. "Can you put away the groceries, too?"

"Yeah."

Heather heard her go down the hall to the bedroom. She grinned dryly. College? Work? Rent? What the fuck did it matter? There was shit going on out there, she knew that much—things she could stop, things she could fix, things she could make better. But then there was always stuff to stop, always stuff to fix, always stuff to make better. And there were always more bills to pay, more food to buy, more hours to sleep. It never stopped, never eased up. At least not until you were dead.

She gulped down the rest of her cereal and threw the bowl into the sink. Hey, at least Eileen had a boyfriend—even if he was a giant pussy that was too afraid of a little sex. She thought of him, smiled. Henry Townshend. If he cleaned up a little, Eileen was right—he was kind of cute.


"Man, Portland's ass."

Henry looked out at the street from the passenger seat of the car, camera in his lap, fountain drink in his hand. He sipped noisily from the straw, scowling, bangs in his face. They were parked at a gas station, the windows down, luggage crowding the back seat. It was a nice day—shining sun, blue sky, birds chirping, people walking and talking.

"Jesus," he said. "Don't they have a fucking place to go? Things to do? Why are they all just walking?"

James was in the driver's seat, serene as usual, a plain gray t-shirt on, his jacket over his lap. "Come on, Henry," he said. "It's nice. Did you know Portland has the most restaurants of any city in the U.S.?"

"Shut the fuck up, James," Henry said. "I know you saw that shit on Wikipedia because I did, too. Look, just agree with me that this place's ass and let's not spend an hour fucking discussing it."

"Henry, you have to give me reasons why you think it's ass. It's nice, clean, colorful. The people have been really polite so far, too."

"I hate nice people, James, or at least the ones that just pretend to be so nice. There's people that are pissed, that are angry, that are depressed, that are sad, but there aren't many really, genuine nice people around." Henry shrunk in his seat, sipped from his drink again. "It's just hiding what's really under the surface. Trying to ignore it."

"You have to admit it's better than Ashfield, though," James said.

"My great-grandmother's left ass cheek is better than Ashfield," said Henry, "and she's dead. They may as well just call it Assfield. Always gray. Always windy or rainy. Why's this place so much sunnier? It's all the same shit. It's all Maine."

"If this place is ass," James said, "and Ashfield's even worse, then what about Silent Hill?"

Henry stared ahead, grim eyes kept on the window of the convenience store. "Silent Hill is like the devil literally took a shit and called it a town. Then it grew fungus, started to stink, and started spreading goddamn cholera. It's a fucking abomination, James. That godforsaken piece of shit can suck my dick. What a nightmare."

He turned, looked at James. "Do I need to say more?"

James smiled, shook his head. "No. No, you really don't. I don't think I could have said it better myself."

"Great. That's settled. Now, anyway, Portland's ass, and I'm not budging on that." Henry groaned. "Now if Eileen would just hurry the hell up, we can get out of here. How long does it take a woman to take a piss? Seriously."

As if on cue, the door to the convenience store swung open. Eileen walked out, green eyes sparkling, shoulder-length brown hair swaying, bangs clipped back, smile radiating. She was in a pink plaid blouse and torn jeans, her old white and pink sneakers starting to show their age. A plastic bag full of snacks and drinks bounced off her leg.

Henry poked his head out the window, peering at her. "What the hell'd you buy, woman? I thought you were taking a piss."

"Sorry," she said. "Just couldn't help myself. So many goodies!" She laughed. "Aww, Henry-poo! Smile! Remember, no frowning! Right, James?"

"That's right," James said. "Henry's just being a big ol' sourpuss."

"What's new?" Eileen said, stopping by the window.

"Wahh wah wah," Henry moaned. "Just get in the car."

"Excuse me? I don't take orders for you, mister."

"I—sorry." Henry gave her a genuine look. "Can you please get in the car, Eileen?"

"Of course, Henry. Of course I'll get in the car." She pecked his cheek, then climbed into the backseat. "So, we're all gassed up, we're all ready. James, you want these Twizzlers?"

"I'll take some, sure. Just put them in the cup holder."

"Cool. Henry, you want something?"

"Nah. I'm good."

"Alright-y." Eileen tore open a packet of crackers. "Okay," she said, chewing through a mouthful of peanut butter and mush. "On to Henry's cousin's house!"

"We're pretty close," said James. "Maybe ten more minutes to get there."

"Sick." They hit a small bump in the street, and Eileen dropped one of her crackers. "Oops. Alex is gonna be pissed when he sees what happened to his car after we get back, lol."

"Chew with your mouth closed, please," Henry said, looking at her through the rearview mirror. "And stop bouncing around. What the fuck are you, ADD?"

"I'm just excited, Henry! Your family's my family, remember?"

"You haven't put a ring on it yet," he said.

"Aww, it's just a matter of time!" Eileen hugged his chair from behind and planted a big kiss on his head. "And it's gonna be so much fun at the orientation! We're gonna meet people, do stuff, eat lots of good food—I can't wait!"

"Jesus, Eileen! Put your goddamn seatbelt on! If we crash and you die, it's your fucking fault!"

She squealed and giggled. "Aww, look, James! Henry-poo's worried about me!"

"I'm not worried about you, I'm worried about the fucking hassle it's going to be putting you in the ground! And explaining that shit to your parents, too!"

They bantered, Eileen laughing, Henry growling. James glanced at them, unable to contain his smile. His friends. He was lucky, he thought. Just damn lucky.


They stopped outside a modest one-story house in a nearby suburb. It was white and modern, with large, tinted windows in the front. There was a small lawn, green and yellow; there was a big oak tree in the yard, and, in the driveway, were a red minivan and a sleeker, smaller blue car. Eileen's head was already out of the window, her mouth agape.

"That is one badass house," she said. "Henry! We gotta get ourselves one like that!"

"Just chill," Henry said. "Listen, you guys. Tina can be kind of uppity and shit. Just don't get into any arguments with her. You think I'm stubborn—fuck, she'll show you stubborn."

"Cut from the same cloth," said James. "Come on, let's get our bags."

They got out, started gathering their luggage. Henry took out Eileen's couple of bags, both of them surprisingly light. "Eileen," he said, "please tell me you packed extra underwear and clothes. I mean, shit, you've been wearing that same shirt for the past couple of days."

Eileen smiled slyly as she took the bags, winked. "Who says I'm even wearing underwear?"

As she walked to the house, James came up beside Henry. "You're blushing, Henry," he said with a laugh. Henry grunted.

"I'm not touching that shit, is all I'm saying."

At the door, Henry rang the doorbell. "Anything else we should know?" James asked.

"Nah. Tina's otherwise pretty cool. So is Eric. Don't think they have any kids yet."

The door opened a moment later. On the other side was a woman in her late twenties, in a green blouse and jeans, with short brown hair and brown eyes. "Henry," she said. "Looks like you made it."

"Looks like," he said. "Hey, Tina."

"Hey, yourself," she said, embracing him. "God, how long's it been? At least a year or two? How have your parents been?"

"Eh, they're okay. Will's still got a stick up his ass, but he's getting over it."

Tina shook her head, but her smile remained. "And these are your friends? James and Eileen, right?"

"James Sunderland," James said. "I think we've met before, at one of Henry's birthdays? It's been a long time, though."

"Hey, you're probably right. And you're Eileen?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Eileen saluted. "And in case Henry didn't tell you, I'm his girlfriend!"

Tina laughed. "I think he mentioned that, don't worry. Come on inside—I'll show you your rooms, and you can meet Eric."

They went in. The house was sparsely but nicely furnished—some skyline prints on the walls, some skylights, white carpet in the den. "These are some sick digs," Eileen said, admiring the kitchen. She ran a hand over the glossy countertop. "Really sick."

"We got it for a good deal," Tina said. "We had to renovate some things, so there went a couple of months' salary. Here, the rooms are just back here."

They went down another hall, with two bedrooms on either side. "One room for you two," she said, glancing at Henry and Eileen, "and one room for James."

"Doesn't look like you renovated this one," Henry said, looking in. "There's still a fucking Crayola fan in here."

"Hey, it's a room, isn't it? Anyway, get settled. I'll get Eric."

She left back down the hall. "A fucking Crayola fan," Henry said. "Look, it's even got different fucking colors."

"Somehow I think you'll live," James said, going into his room. Eileen bounded into theirs and opened the blinds, letting in a stream of sunlight.

"Look at that, Henry," she said, staring out at the lawn, at the neighborhood. "It's so peaceful. Man, I could die here." She flopped down on the bed, the blue walls around her comforting, the Crayola fan slowly spinning. "I really could."

Henry watched her for a moment, then put his own suitcase down and sat on the edge of the bed. "We're just gonna be here a few days," he said. "When orientation's over, we're going back."

"I know." She sat up, brushed some hair back behind her right ear. "But when the semester starts, we could stay here. With your cousins. It'd be nice. You know they're thinking about it."

"Maybe." Henry placed a tentative hand on her leg, caressed it. "We'll see. I don't want to make you any promises."

"None that you can't keep," she said, smiling, and he nodded.

"Right."

They stayed like that for a minute, listening to the sounds outside, caught in the light from the window. Then a voice came to them from the doorway. "Henry. You're here."

Henry turned, saw a man at the door, in his late twenties, maybe early thirties, like Tina. He was tall, with short brown hair and a disarming, collected smile. "Eric," Henry said, standing and shaking his hand. "Long time no see."

"Yeah, it's been a while. Sorry we missed the graduation. It's been busy around here."

"Nah, who gives a shit. They had to drag me to that fucking thing."

Eric chuckled. "I bet. And you're Eileen?" He extended his hand to the girl.

"Yes, sir!" she said, taking it. "I'm gonna whip Henry into shape, don't you worry! I'm trying to get him to get a haircut every month, but he's really fighting me on it."

"That'll work itself out," Eric said. "Believe me. Marriage does that to you."

"Yeah, yeah," Henry said. "So, Eric, you done any good work lately?"

"Like I said, it's been busy. Here, I'll show you."

He led them to an office, bigger and more spacious than the other rooms, where two computers were set against the wall, adjacent to a drafting board. James had followed them, and he let out an impressed chuckle. "This is great, Eric," he said. "You do a lot of your work here?"

"It took some doing," Eric said. "Most of my stuff is still at the office, but I manage to get some work done here when I have time off. Right now I've got to finish a draft of a new house. We've been developing a new suburb on the east side of town—they're looking for a more modern design, so I've been toying around with that."

Eileen stepped inside and admired the sketches adorning the walls. "These are really good. Eric, maybe you can design our house!"

"Let's not get too excited," Henry said. "It's cool, though, Eric."

"And you, Henry? Any new pictures you want to show off?"

"I'll show you later," Henry said. "I've been taking a lot, though. This new camera's been pretty good to me."

"He never puts it down," said James.

"James is just jealous. He doesn't have a hobby, see."

"Right," said Eric, looking at the three teens. The light coming in through the windows of the office was stronger, more vibrant, more alive.


Dinner that evening was nice. Tina made meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and vegetables, a "supper for champions," as Eileen put it. They all sat around the dining table, the stereo in the background playing quietly, the light of the small chandelier above them soft and gentle. There were jokes, laughter. A bottle of red wine passed between them. Glasses filled and emptied. Henry sent his camera around, the bright little screen showing small portraits of the sky, of trees, of the road stretching onwards, of James driving, his hair in his face, of Eileen leaning back in her seat, eyes out the window, of Eileen sleeping, a smile on her face.

That night, Henry lay on the small bed in his room, the lights on, looking up at the Crayola fan. "Fucking Crayola fan," he said, unable to hold back the laugh. "Fuck is it stupid."

He sighed, closed his eyes. It was nice, though he'd never admit it. Something about this trip—going along with James and Eileen, seeing the sights, hearing the sounds, however short it really was—something about it was getting to him, working its way inside. His chest felt heavy suddenly, weighted, filled with something he couldn't describe. He rubbed it absently.

Eileen came in, dressed in a t-shirt and short shorts, rubbing a towel through her wet hair. "Damn do they have a kick-ass shower," she said, slinging the towel around her neck. "It feels great to clean up, though. I've been really sweaty." She paused. "Henry? You okay, babe?"

"Yeah," he said softly. "Just thinking."

"'Bout what?"

"I don't know. Stuff. Things. Fuck, Eileen. It's just flying by."

"It's not flying by," she said. "It's here, Henry. It's in us. Every second of it."

She suddenly smiled, flipped off the lights, and threw herself on him. "Let me do something for you," she said, sliding a hand through his hair. "You know all you have to do is ask. Anything, Henry."

"Eileen." He looked at her, throat thick. "It's not—it's not that I don't want to."

"I know, Henry. It's okay." She caressed his cheek, kissed his brow. "In your own time, babe." She snickered. "But you know I masturbate to you daily, right?"

"Eileen." He said her name again, harder this time, firmer. She registered the change in tone immediately; her goofy smile fell; her gaze met his. He studied her, looked into her green eyes, ran a finger down her cheek. "You know," he said, "it wasn't too long ago that I just—I was just so angry, so fucking angry at everything. I woke up every morning just pissed out of my mind. I didn't know why. It was like, fuck this place, you know? Fuck it. There didn't seem to be a point."

She listened to him, said nothing. He took her hand. "Then all that shit with Mason happened, and I met you, and James and Alex and Elle and—fuck, we saved the world. No one knows we did it. No one knows who the fuck Princess Heart is. No one knows how much we lost, how fucking hard it was. But ever since then, every morning, I don't—I don't feel angry anymore. I'm not mad. I just look at you, at James when he's with Mary—I look at my mom, I even look at my dad, I take my pictures—and it's like, like there's this feeling. I don't know what it is, either, but it's the total opposite. It's just—it's too much sometimes. Like right now."

Eileen smiled, she beamed. "I know," she said. "I feel it, too. I feel it all the time."

Henry struggled to speak. His face scrunched up, broke. "You feel it, too? Right now?"

"Yep."

"What is it?"

"It's love, Henry," she said, stroking his temple. "It's all the love in the world."

Henry couldn't breathe—his chest was swollen, overflowing with this feeling. He shut his eyes, felt them build up with tears. "Why are you so good to me, Eileen?" he choked out. "Why the fuck are you here?"

Now it was Eileen's turn to shut her eyes, to feel her face lose its composure. "I'm good to you because you are good," she whispered, placing her brow against his, breathing in his breath. "I wish you could see it, Henry—the way I see the world, the way everything is just so bright and lit up. And you're there, shining all the time—you've always been shining. Always. Ever since you were a little boy with that little camera, taking pictures of those butterflies."

Henry started crying—he couldn't help it, couldn't hold it off. He pulled Eileen close, and she held him, she held him until they both fell asleep.


"Henry, get up. We're going to be late."

Henry stirred, his eyes opening, the morning light strong. "Eileen?"

"No," said James, standing by the bed. He was already dressed in a polo shirt and jeans. "But it's the next best thing. Rise and shine."

Henry sat up, rubbed his eyes. "Oh, Jamesy. What the hell are we gonna be late for?"

"We have to register for the orientation. Who knows how crowded it'll be, so better to get there early. We'll have to go in about an hour."

"Alright," said Henry, sheets and blankets twisted around him. He yawned. "Just give me a couple of minutes. Breakfast?"

"Tina made some really good pancakes, but I already had some. They're still eating if you want a bite."

"Yeah. Thanks." Henry stumbled out of bed, grabbed his jeans from the floor and his dress shirt from the headboard. He threw them on, rolled up his sleeves. "How's my hair?" he asked. "As shitty as usual?"

"Even shittier," said James. He watched Henry play with his hair and pick at his shirt. There was something off about the young man's movements, something absent and dreamy. "You alright, Henry? Everything okay?"

"Yeah, of course." Henry looked out the window, let out a breath. "Just tired for some reason."

"You sleep well?"

"Yeah. The best I've slept in a long time, actually." Henry looked to his friend, patted him on the shoulder. "Don't be so fucking grim, James. It's just college."

"Right. College."

They walked over to the kitchen, where Tina was washing dishes and Eileen was sitting at the middle island, devouring a plate of pancakes, eggs, and bacons. "Henry!" she cried, her mouth full. "About time you woke up. I guess I really did a number on you last night."

"Yeah," said Henry, smiling at her. "You really did." She blushed, went back to her food, and he turned to Tina. "You went all-out, cuz. You really that happy we're here?"

"It's nice to have company over," Tina said, throwing a rag over her shoulder. "It makes this place feel more lively." She gestured to the table. "Go on, get some. We'll have leftovers since Eric had to leave early. You look skinnier than I remember, by the way."

"He eats a ton," Eileen said. "Must be that radical metabolism, I guess."

"Must be," Henry said. He grabbed a stool, fixed himself a plate, then poured a glass of orange juice. Tina spoke over the running water.

"So, orientation. Got ourselves a few pups here."

"Yep," said Eileen. "Go huskies! Woof woof!"

"You teach at USM, don't you, Tina?" James asked.

"I teach two night classes," she said. "Intro writing courses. Nothing fancy. Been working at my doctorate for about a year now." She shut off the water, turned around, dried her hands with the rag. "Otherwise I'm over at PHS. A bulldog by day and a husky by night."

"Hey, all dogs go to heaven," said Eileen.

James looked up at Tina. "It sounds like you have your hands full."

"I keep busy," she said. "We're getting by, though. That's what matters."

Henry, meanwhile, pushed his plate away. He wordlessly gulped down his glass of orange juice. "Damn, son," Eileen said. "You ate that mighty quick."

"I was hungry." Henry stifled a burp, then turned to James. "Well? We ready to get this over with?"

"Yeah," James said. "We'll be off, Tina. It's not all day—just signing up, then taking care of housing."

"I just feel really bad about these plates," Eileen said, eyeing the countertop. Tina shook her head.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it. You three have fun. You're about to start a new chapter. The best thing to do is relish it."

"New chapter," Henry grunted. "I'd like to stay on this one for a little bit, honestly. But whatever. Let's go."


"You sure she's here?" Curtis asked, thumbing the steering wheel of his truck. Beside him sat Margaret Holloway, her blonde hair down, dressed in a black overcoat. She smirked, revealing the archaic triangular prism in her hand. It pulsated violently with dim bursts of crimson light.

"Of course. See the pulse? One of the fairy princesses is here." She tilted her head, pursed her lips. "It must be college orientation. Yes, she would be around that age."

"You said there were two princesses left," said Curtis. "Which one is it?"

"It doesn't matter. Either one will give us what we need."

"But the other one? She—"

"She can't do anything," Holloway said. "I told you before, Curtis. Princess Heart won't make a difference. Dahlia and Michael put too much faith in their own cleverness. They thought they could control the demons, but we're only human, after all. It's the raw power of the demons—that's what will correct the balance. 'Paradise' is just an idiotic dream. What we need is an equalizer."

Curtis was silent. His hands shook on the steering wheel. "Oh, please," laughed Holloway. "Get a hold of yourself, Curtis. You're going to help me do this. You're going to realize the Order's vision as it should have been realized a long time ago." Her lips twisted into a sinister smile. "You're going to kill. You're going to cause chaos on a level no one has ever imagined. You're going to drown them in blood, Curtis." She reached into her coat and produced three vials, each filled with a thick, black liquid.

"Now go. Bring me the princess. It's time for us to begin."


"It's so fucking green," Henry moaned, looking around at the campus. The University of Southern Maine—abundantly green, with sprawling grass, old, towering trees, and a picturesque view of the nearby lake. "I never thought I'd miss city shit and the subway." He stopped, clicked his tongue. "Nah. Fuck the subway."

He, James, and Eileen were walking down the main street that cut through the center of the campus. Many other incoming students littered the street and the adjacent lawns and parking lot, a lot of them in the school's principal blue and gold.

"Just enjoy it, Henry," Eileen said. "In another month, all this green will be yellow and red and orange." She sighed. "Oh, it'll be awesome. Just imagine walking with your coat on, with a nice little coffee, the leaves blowing all around you—that's gonna be sick."

"I'm glad you're so excited," Henry said flatly. He nudged James. "So, where the fuck are we supposed to go? Sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get the hell out."

James was studying a packet, tracing the print with his finger. "We have to go to the education center," he said. "It should be right up the street."

"Perfect. Oh, shit—look at the line."

They came upon the education center, a large building with windows all over its surface. A crowd mingled and sorted outside the doors; within, several lines led to reception desks. "Let's just cut inside," Henry said, taking Eileen's hand and booking it for the door, James in tow. They squeezed through the crowd and got inside the lobby. Henry groaned, beset by all the noise.

"Well, now what?"

"They probably have us by last names," James said. "Well, we're 'S' and 'T.' That means we're over here. You coming, Henry?"

"Yeah." Henry turned, touched Eileen's arm. "Don't get lost. It'd be a pain in the ass to have to find you."

"I'm a big girl, Henry," she said. "You don't get lost."

"No promises I can't keep." He followed James over to the other side of the lobby. Eileen watched him disappear into the crowd, and then she took up a spot in line and waited. She folded her arms, stared up at the high windows—at the blue sky beyond them, at the lazy, slow-moving clouds. Love, she'd called it. All the love in the world. She felt some more tears start to work up, but she fought them down. No. No more crying. She was going to smile. She was going to be happy, she was going to spread that love. She had to—for Henry's sake, for James's sake, for everyone. She wondered about Heather. The last time she'd seen her had been in that apartment she'd rented with Claudia, a cramped, dirty little thing, but good enough to get by. Well, things were going to change. They were going to be better. She was going to make things better for her favorite ho's, for her favorite boy-toy, for all her friends—

The line moved up. Distracted, she took a step forward—and someone bumped into her from behind. She heard something break quickly, like glass shattering, and turned around. It was a man in a gray coat, a blur of greased, dirty hair underneath a splotched baseball cap, of an unshaven face with lopsided eyes, of sneakers and jeans. "Sorry 'bout that," he mumbled gruffly, and as he ambled off, steam rose in his wake.

"What the—" She stopped, noticed the familiar black liquid sinking into the floor, eating away at it like acid, coursing out—noticed the occult symbol begin to take shape, the lines glow red. She spun around, grabbed the people to her front and back. "You've got to move!" she screamed. "Everyone, run!"

People turned to her, gave surprised looks and confused stares, but it was too late. As Eileen threw herself down, reddish, purple light shot up behind her. There was a flurry of sounds next—screams, the hiss and sputter of more liquid hitting the floor, and something else, a distorted yelp, a throaty, horrible laugh.

Eileen turned around on her back and faced the beast before her, a humanoid creature on all fours, its skin leathery and burnt. Where its mouth should have been was only a slit, between which hung a jumble of wet, dripping, tube-like vessels. They swung with each twitch of the head, some of them moving as if independent of the creature itself.

The monster moved forward, nauseatingly close to Eileen, and then it leapt right over her and into the crowd. She flung her head back, saw the creature come down upon a young man, his screams cut short by a loud, fleshy tear. His body convulsed, broke into spasms, and then it suddenly stopped, suddenly fell still as the monster latched onto him more tightly and dug its head deeper into the back of his neck.

"What the fuck?" someone shouted. "Oh my god!" another yelled. Others were running, screaming, calling for help. The entire lobby was in chaos, people scurrying in all directions, the monster leaping off its prey and moving on, hopping from one person to another like a frog, moving with inhuman speed.

Eileen had barely registered it, had barely seen the young man shrink up and die, when she spotted a second creature leap into the crowd, and then a third, and a fourth. They drove into the throng, with each leap throwing blood into the air.

"No," said Eileen lowly. "No—stop. Stop, damn it! Stop!"

She got to her feet and turned, finding the man from before standing across from her, more creatures emerging from black holes around him. "Thought so," he said. "The only one that didn't run. I don't remember seeing you before at the shop. I guess you must be the other princess."

"Who are you?" Eileen demanded. "How do you have demons? We beat the Order!"

"Clearly you missed a spot," the man said. He tipped his cap. "The name's Curtis. Nice to meet you, princess, and it's nothing personal—but you're gonna have to come with me."

"I don't think so," Eileen said, straightening, her normally gentle green eyes growing fierce. "You're going to call off your demons. You're going to stop what you're doing right now. If you don't—"

"If I don't, you're gonna what? Doesn't look like you can turn into Princess Heart, otherwise you'd have done it by now. So what's it gonna be? I don't have all day."

"Go to hell," Eileen spat. "I won't let you get away with this!"

Curtis shrugged. "Figured that's what you'd say. Well, I call these beauties rompers. They're hard to handle—let 'em go wild, and they don't stop, as you can probably tell. Remember—it's nothing personal, princess." He waved his arm at her. "Get her, boys. But I need her alive."

The rompers sprang towards Eileen, moving like apes, the tubes hanging from their slits flexing, drawn to fresh blood. Eileen cursed under her breath. No pendant. No power. No Magnum Heart.

She ran.


On the other side of the lobby, Henry and James watched as the rompers kept attacking, kept scattering the crowd. "What the fuck's going on?" yelled Henry. "What are those things?"

"They look like demons!" James said. "Look at them! I know we saw some like that back in Silent Hill!"

"They can't be demons," Henry said. "We killed all those fuckers! We stopped them!"

"It doesn't matter. We have to get out of here. Henry!"

"We can't," said Henry quickly, "not without Eileen. I have to find her!"

"Henry—"

Gunshots drew them around to see a security guard overcome by a romper, its tubes breaking into his neck, blood shooting out. The handgun slid away, and Henry immediately dove for it.

"Henry, wait!" James cried, chasing after him. Henry reached out, inches away from the gun, when a shadow came over him. He turned, just barely seeing the romper as it crashed down upon him, its arms clutching his shoulders, pinning him down, its tubes poised to pierce his neck.

"Oh, shit!" he screamed, shutting his eyes, ready for his throat to rupture open, when the romper's shoulder suddenly tore apart in a spray of black blood. Henry opened his eyes, adrenaline pumping. "What the fuck—" Half of the romper's head caved in next, blood jettisoning from the wound. It fell onto its side, and there was James standing over it, the handgun trembling violently in his hands, its barrel jumping with each pull of the trigger as he shot twice more, point-blank, reducing the beast's head to a bloody pulp.

"Holy shit, James." Henry stood up, wiped at his mouth. "That was a close one."

"Let's go!" James said, turning to him. "We have to get outside."

They hurried out, darting around the panicked crowds. It was even more chaotic out in the open, rompers leaping everywhere, hordes of people running away from them. "Eileen!" Henry shouted. "Where the fuck are ya? Eileen!"

James scanned the chaos, then pointed. "Henry, over there! Look!" At a distance, Eileen was running off, three of the demons in close pursuit.

"Where the fuck is she going?" demanded Henry, and James threw a hand up in realization.

"The car!" he said. "The gun that Alex's dad put in there. She has to be going for that!"

"Fuck, you're right! Come on!"

They headed off in that direction. In the parking lot, meanwhile, Eileen skirted between cars, the awful laughing of the rompers not far behind. She ducked behind a car, crouched, and tried to catch her breath, but one of the monsters landed atop the vehicle, crushing it. She was back up instantly, sneakers hitting the asphalt, eyes darting from left to right. "Come on," she hissed. "Come on, where are you?" Her eyes widened. "There!

She scooped up a rock as she went, big, uneven, and heavy, and immediately upon reaching the car slammed it into the passenger side window. The glass cracked, but didn't give way—she swung again, cracked it, swung again, cracked it. "Come on come on come on"—she raised the rock—"just fucking break!" She brought it down again, this time shattering the window. By the time the car alarm blared to life, Eileen was already fumbling with the glove compartment, slicing her arms on the broken glass. Her fingers hit the button—the glove compartment opened, the black contour of the gun slid out—and then she was flying back onto the ground, sky and clouds and a romper whirling into her vision.

"You son of a bitch!" she screamed, staring into the darkness of its slit as it descended upon her, tubes flailing—

"That's enough."

The romper froze, turned its head towards the woman in black approaching. Eileen looked to the voice, her eyes widening in confusion. "You," she said. "You're—you're Judge Holloway. Elle's mom!"

Margaret Holloway smiled. "Eileen, isn't it?" she said. "So you're the fairy princess."

"Looks like we got her," Curtis said breathlessly, approaching. "She put up a hell of a fight. Imagine if she'd turned."

"But she didn't," said Holloway, the smug smile never fading. She called to the romper; the other two remained at a distance, docile and waiting. "Let her go. Curtis, bring her to me."

The romper obediently removed itself. Curtis pulled Eileen up by her arms, pinned them behind her. "She's all yours, boss."

"Excellent." Holloway reached into her coat. In one hand she brought out the triangular prism, its pulses now so rapid it was almost constantly alit—in her other hand, she brought out a rusted dagger, very old, obscure symbols carved into its length.

Eileen's gaze lingered on the dagger, and then she looked up at Holloway. "What are you doing? What do you want?"

Holloway raised the prism. "This is the Flauros, Eileen," she said simply. "Centuries ago, a demon was trapped inside this 'three-sided box'—a very powerful demon, one that even the greatest sorcerers of the time struggled to keep under their control. It's been in here ever since." She took a step forward. "The Order thought it would be safer to leave it inside, but I think differently. How powerful could the demon be? And all that's needed to find out is the pure blood of a fairy princess."

"No!" said Eileen. "I don't care what happens to me, but if there really is a demon in that thing and you let it out, it'll kill who knows how many people! You can't do that! You can't!"

"If they die, then they deserve to die," Holloway said. "They can feed their souls to Flauros. They can make him stronger, make him so powerful that the pitiful joke of a god Dahlia produced will look like absolutely nothing."

She advanced. "Now, stay still. It will only be a second—"

"Stop!"

Holloway turned, found James across from her, the gun aimed her way. Henry was beside him. "Eileen!" he cried. "Just hold on!"

The rompers turned, prepared to pounce. "James, get ready!" Henry exclaimed. "James!"

"Enough," said Holloway calmly. "James? I didn't think you'd be here."

"What the fuck?" blurted Henry. "You know this bitch?"

"Yeah," James said, his grip on the gun loosening. "That's Judge Holloway—Elle's mother. That's her."

"What? Bullshit, just shoot her!"

"You can," Holloway said, "but if I die, those demons will be on you in moments. I'm the only thing keeping them from killing you as we speak."

"I don't give a shit!" Henry stepped up, his teeth ground together, his eyes burning. When he spoke, his voice was hard and cold, so low they almost didn't hear him. "You let Eileen go right now," he said. "Do it or I'll kill you myself. And it'll be slow. I promise you that."

"No," said Holloway, shaking her head. "I don't think so. I'm going to open the Flauros now, and you will be the first to see just how weak we humans really are."

"Henry!" Eileen screamed. "That box—it has a demon inside! You can't let her open it! You have to stop her!" She struggled to break free, but Curtis held her firm. "Damn it, James, shoot her! Shoot her before it's too late!"

"I—I can't," he said, unable to hold the gun straight. "Damn it, she's Elle's mother!"

"I don't care if she's the fucking Virgin Mary!" Henry went for the gun. "Just do it—"

One of the rompers leapt in between him and Holloway, ready to attack. Eileen screamed. "Stop! Don't hurt him!" She stared on desperately, fearfully. "Please, don't hurt him. I'm begging you. Don't hurt him."

Holloway looked to her, then turned back to the romper. "Stop," she said. "Leave him."

The romper shrunk back, but it remained in place, protecting its master. Henry reached out. "Eileen—"

"It's okay, Henry," she said, putting on the strongest smile she could. She looked at him, at his cute hair, his cute chin, his cute cheeks. "It's okay. You'll be okay. Just—just remember. You're good."

"No," Henry said. "Eileen, wait. Eileen—"

Holloway turned and slit the girl's throat.

Eileen's eyes immediately fell; the once vibrant green faded. Her legs buckled; her body went slack. Blood streamed out and splattered over the Flauros. It glowed brightly, humming louder and louder. "It's happening," Holloway whispered in excitement. "It's happening!"

The Flauros radiated, rising out of her hand and levitating, emitting light so bright that the parking lot seemed to darken. The rompers whimpered, moved away fearfully—Curtis stepped back, letting go of Eileen's limp body, looking on at the artifact. "Holy shit," he breathed.

James stared up at the Flauros in a mixture of horror and awe. "Oh my god. Henry—Henry, we have to go! Henry!"

But even as the Flauros opened, even as it split apart into five distinct glowing prisms, even as a rush of darkness erupted from it, shooting up like a geyser into the sky and blotting out the sun, spreading like smoke, even as an unearthly wail accompanied it, was heard all over—even as all this happened, Henry could only stare at Eileen, could only stare at her blank, empty eyes, at her slack, loose lips. He fell to his knees, his own fight leaving him, his own life bleeding out. He couldn't move—not as something began to take shape above him in the tumultuous darkness, not as James dragged him back, pulled him with all his strength away from the scene. All he could focus on was Eileen lying there, cold. Dead.

But then as the raging storm finally drew his attention upward, he saw something else. A little sparkle of light rising into the air. A stream of light sailing up, called away. His hand feebly groped for it, weakly tried somehow to grab it. But then it was gone, too far away, too high up, and all he could see was a pair of bloody red eyes in the darkness high above them—a pair of enormous mandibles, two gigantic horns. Two humongous hooves came crashing down into the asphalt, crushing Alex's car. The monstrosity roared, shaking the earth beneath them and tearing the heavens apart.

But it didn't matter, not anymore. He didn't care. Eileen was gone, and Henry was left behind.

END EPISODE 01

Dark coming down.

(DISCLAIMER: Silent Hill and all related materials are the property of Konami and their respective copyright holders. No profit is made from this work.)