"The Chariot represents victory for the individual, but only a momentary one."

Edogawa-sensei, Persona 3.

The moment he set foot in the bus, Stocke sent a message to Rosch and Sonja.

There's trouble, he wrote. I might have found our next Shadow. Meet me at school as soon as you can. When he arrived to his destination, Stocke rushed out of the bus without even thanking the poor indignant driver. He made for the school entrance with long, nervous strides, cursing as he spied the forms of several lesser Shadows lurking just outside the doorway.

Worse of all was the teenage girl lingering through their midst, absentmindedly tapping her foot as she waited for a certain somebody's arrival.

"Raynie!" Stocke called out, as loud as he could. He had to get her away from the Shadows—without drawing their attentions to himself, preferably. "Hey, Raynie!"

Raynie caught his eyes across the distance and grinned. "Hey!" To Stocke's great relief, she immediately went toward him, seemingly unaware of the monstrous creatures watching her from behind. "It's great to see you, dude!"

"Yeah," Stocke said as she joined him in the parking lot. "Uh, good morning, I guess." He racked his brain, trying to find the adequate way to explain just what the hell was going on. Eruca would know what to say, but Stocke was nowhere as eloquent as his sister. He suppressed a groan. Bluntness was out of the question, Sonja kept telling him. He hated that she was right.

"I like your scarf," Raynie said, eyeing the garment in question. "It suits you."

Stocke blinked, his mind momentarily going blank. "What?"

"The colour, uh, I like it. Red looks good on you."

Stocke only stared at her, brows slightly furrowing. In response, Raynie bit down her lip and broke eye contact.

"So, uh," she said, after a brief, awkward silence, "you wanna go inside? I think we're the last ones to get here. We'll be late if we don't hurry."

"Wait," Stocke answered, "My friends Rosch and Sonja are coming too. They'll be here soon."

This time, it was Raynie's turn to look at him in confusion. "Really? Like, a double date kind of thing?" She scratched the back of her head. "Uh, okay. I guess that's fine too."

Again, all manner of intelligent thought seemed to flee from Stocke's brain. "Double what?"

"You know what? Forget about it." Raynie chuckled nervously, tucking a strand of black hair behind one ear. "So your friends are fans of bad horror movies, huh? I couldn't get Marc to come. That's why I invited you instead."

"Yeah," Stocke said. "So you told me before."

"Wonder if he's finished composing that arrangement of his," she wondered aloud. As Stocke quirked a brow in a silent inquiry, she went on, saying, "He's got a crush on a girl who used to hang out with us in middle school. He keeps staying after classes to make an arrangement out of her favourite song so they can play together like the cute band nerds that they are. Isn't it like the sappiest thing ever? I love it."

Stocke could feel his expression softening a bit. "Yeah."

"It's plain she likes him back, but he didn't believe it when I told him." Raynie sighed. "Some guys are just that clueless, huh?"

Was it Stocke's imagination or was there a second meaning hidden behind her statement? "If you say so."

Thankfully, a familiar pick-up truck arrived at the parking lot at the same moment, saving Stocke from what was sure to be another bout of embarrassing silence. Rosch and Sonja climbed out of the car; Stocke fought an urge to repeatedly hit his forehead with his palm when he noticed just they happened to carry.

"What in the everlasting fu—" said Raynie.

Before she could finish, Stocke walked over to the two newcomers. "Is all of that really necessary?" he said, motioning to the golf club, baseball bat and hockey stick his friends had brought.

"You told us there was trouble," Rosch said. "Sonja said it'd be better to bring weapons."

"Sonja did?" Stocke peered down at her, and Sonja gingerly waved the hockey stick and the baseball bat she held in her hands. She was pale as a sheet, but there was a look of grim determination in her green eyes.

"Wait, whoa, hold on," said Raynie. "What kind of trouble? Why do you guys look like you're about to go on a hunt for zombies?"

Rosch opened and closed his mouth in quick succession. It seemed he had just realized Raynie was just in front of him. "Oh crap…"

"Ah! Um…" Sonja hesitated, similarly at a loss for words. "You're Eruca's friend Raynie, right? Nice to me you!" She managed a smile, but Raynie only responded with a scowl.

"What is that all about?" she asked Stocke. "Is this some sort of dumb prank? 'Cause this isn't funny, y'know?"

A sliver of annoyance had slipped in Raynie's voice as she spoke. The lesser Shadows amassing by the school entrance turned their masked faces toward her, their mist-like forms thickening into something more solid. They began to slither in her direction, prompting a curse from Stocke.

"Oh, to hell with all this," he said in half a growl, marching toward the monstrous stragglers. A now familiar blue light flared around him. Subtlety was overrated, in his honest opinion.

With the sound of breaking glass, Baldr sprung into existence, sending a wave of fire in the direction of the Shadows. A corner of Stocke's mouth twisted into a joyless grin as all the creatures burned to a crisp. Behind him, Raynie let out a loud, colourful streak of swears.

"Holy frickin' shit!" Soon, Raynie had rushed to Stocke's side, panting and pointing at the fiery figure hanging about Stocke with a shaking finger. She gave another gasp when Baldr disappeared in a scatter of blue sparks. "What the—how did you—what the hell—"

They were soon joined by Rosch and Sonja. "Stocke!" Rosch said. "What the hell are you doing? Did you really have to bring her into our mess?"

Stocke shrugged. "I wanted to see if she'd been the one who had gotten possessed this time. I'm starting to think I might have been wrong."

"P-Possessed?" stuttered Raynie. "Whaddaya mean, possessed?"

"Stocke, you idiot, look what you've done!" said Sonja. "Did you have to scare her half to death? You owe her an apology, mister!"

Stocke glanced to the side, slightly castigated. "Okay. Sorry about that, Raynie."

"I don't need an apology, dude! I need an explanation! What the hell was that glowing person thingie? Where the hell did those black blobs at the school entrance come from? They all just appeared out of nowhere!"

"The monsters are called Shadows," Stocke explained, placidly. "The thing I used to kill them is called a Persona. Mine's named Baldr."

"How can you be so damn chill about all that weird shit?!" Raynie held her head with both hands, grabbing fistfuls of her hair. "Goddammit! This was not how I imagined my morning would go!"

"Me neither," Stocke muttered.

Sonja was glaring at him with a fierceness that would melt down glaciers. "How about you start from the beginning, you big dummy? Maybe that would help her understand."

Stocke sighed. And so, under Rosch and Sonja's insistent gazes, he laid out the whole story, starting from his first encounter with the Shadows inside that alleyway. By the end of his tale, Raynie's mouth was hanging open in an unflattering way; still, at least she seemed less inclined to pummel him to oblivion now.

"So you think I'm possessed by one of these things 'cause I made a comment about having siblings?" she said, dumbfounded.

"I was under the impression that you lived in a foster family," Stocke said.

Raynie folded her arms over her chest. "I do! I might have been talking about my foster parents' kids, you know?"

"Yeah." Stocke's shoulders drooped a bit in embarrassment. "I guess so."

"Just so you know, there is one of these things inside the school right now," Sonja told them, pointing to the entrance with the hockey stick.

"Shit," Rosch said. This time, it was his turn to go white as a ghost. "Really?"

Sonja gave a grave nod. "Or so Hlín tells me."

"Then," said Stocke, "it could be anybody who came to the cinema club's event."

"Well," Rosch continued, "whoever it is, we have to find them, and quick! Before anyone gets hurt!"

"Exactly," Stocke said. "Sorry, Raynie, but I think you should go home."

Stocke's declaration snapped Raynie out of her daze. "What?! Dude, you're all about to march straight into a nest of frickin' monsters! Don't you think there's strength in numbers?"

"You don't have a Persona," Stocke replied. "It's best if you sit this one out."

Raynie threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. "Fine!" Her voice held traces amount of anger, but her face showed nothing but fear. "You guys better show up at school next Monday, you hear? Don't you dare die on me!"

"Don't worry. Dying's never been in my plans." Stocke jabbed a thumb toward Rosch and Sonja. "I think these two would never forgive me otherwise."

Stocke could not deny the brief burst of warmth that spread through his chest when his words were met with a fierce, "Damn straight!" from Rosch, and a resolute nod from Sonja. He offered a weak smile to Raynie before saying, "See you soon, then."

The school was empty when Stocke and the others rushed in, their Personas hovering close behind.

Empty of people, that is. There were plenty of Shadows lying in wait for a hapless victim to snatch.

Before Stocke could set Baldr upon them, the amorphous blobs twisted on their spots, settling into new shapes. Now, it was a group of three beasts resembling lions who prowled the premises; their manes were matted and caked with dirt, while their golden masks were engraved with Imperial numerals depicting the number seven. One other Shadow had instead become a tall, feminine figure with a blue mask bearing the number eight. It turned an expressionless, delicate visage toward the intruders, as if silently assessing the new threat, tugging on leashes fastened around the feline Shadows' necks.

A sort of haze filled the air, thick as seaside mist. Still, beside the addition of the beastly creatures making their way through the rows of lockers, the atrium looked the same as ever, showing none of the strange distortion displayed by the gym or the science lab when Rosch and Sonja's Shadows had taken hold of the school. Stocke frowned; perhaps they were too far away from the source of all their current troubles?

A faint light shimmered around Sonja, and Hlín stared forward, her expression hidden by the veil fluttering in front of her face. "The Shadow is deeper into the school," Sonja said, confirming Stocke's suspicions.

"We gotta take care of the small fry first," Rosch said, twirling the golf club in one hand. "C'mon, Stocke! Let's get this over with!"

"Yeah." Stocke wrapped his own hands around the baseball bat tightly. "Sonja, you got any hint as to how to deal with those guys?"

As she opened her mouth, two of the lion-shaped Shadows leaped forward, roaring. Tyr barreled toward them, shield first, to block their assault. One banged headfirst on the metallic surface while the other merely sidestepped, evading the blow. Fangs bared, the Shadow instead made for the trio hiding behind the three Personas. Thankfully, Baldr interceded, slashing at the monstrous feline. With a shrill cry, the Shadow tumbled down, a large gash now splitting part of its mask in two.

The other lion growled, dark fur bristling with animosity. The tall humanoid Shadow, however, only eyed Stocke and his friends without budging an inch; its blank stare was more chill-inducing than the beasts' feral rage, in a sense.

"They're strong against physical attacks," Sonja said. "But I can't get a sense of what they're weak against... it's all such a blur."

"Alright, let's try some magic then," Stocke said.

He willed Baldr forward, calling for his powers across their invisible bond. In response, the Persona pointed his sword at the two nearest Shadows. A circle of flames burst from under them, and the beasts shrieked under the assault. A second later, and a bolt of lightning came down upon them, finally putting them out of their misery. Stocke sent a fleeting half-smile to Rosch. The latter swatted the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, panting. Spells did not come as easily for Tyr as they did for Baldr, it seemed.

Stocke's relief was short-lived; behind him came a high-pitched, feminine scream. Heart in his throat, he spun on his heel, only to find that another lion Shadow had materialized near Sonja, standing between her and the school entrance.

Far away from Baldr and Tyr's reach.

"No!" cried out Rosch, just as Stocke clenched his teeth, commanding Baldr to head toward her. Sonja stumbled backward, the hockey stick slipping from her grip. Dread swept over Stocke like a cold wind when he realized the Persona would not reach her in time.

And then the school doors burst open, and a slim figure rushed in, startling the Shadow enough so it halted in its tracks. In a swift move, the dark-haired girl slid next to Sonja, grabbing the hockey stick. Letting out a loud slew of curses, Raynie swung the makeshift weapon immediately after, hitting the Shadow's mask with a resounding 'whack!'

Both Rosch and Sonja cried out in surprise, but Stocke could not allow himself the luxury to be startled. Before the Shadow could regain its bearing, he had Baldr set the creature aflame. Stocke let out a sigh of relief as the beast flickered away to nothingness. Still, there was no time to waste: two other Shadows remained. The feminine figure lifted one hand, and a faint light shimmered around the beast's form.

"Oh!" Sonja suddenly said. "She's protecting the other Shadow from physical and magical attacks!"

"Wait, what?" Raynie exclaimed, while Stocke only said, "Let's get this one out of the way, then. Rosch, focus on defense, I'll take care of it."

"Alright!" Rosch replied.

Tyr placed himself nearby Sonja and Raynie, his shield gleaming. Baldr, for his part, flew toward the taller Shadow. The remaining beast leaped into his path, but the Persona ignored it, merely evading its attack. Baldr directed his fiery sword toward its companion, drowning the humanoid creature in flames.

"Now!" Stocke told Rosch. "Here's our chance!"

The poor beast was stuck in an unenviable position, right between the combined forces of Tyr and Baldr. In a manner of seconds, it had been hacked to pieces and pierced through and through. Stocke let out the breath he had been holding when it finally disappeared from sight.

"Holy shit!" Raynie said as she approached Stocke. "I can't believe it. Frickin' monsters inside our school… it's like we're inside a videogame…"

"Raynie," Stocke said, "what are you doing here? You could have been seriously hurt."

She rolled her eyes. "I came to help you out, you moron! You ever watched a horror movie, dude? Splitting up is the worst idea in the history of everything. Beside…" For a moment, Raynie's gaze clouded slightly. "I've got this bad feeling I can't shake. I can't explain it, but I know something horrible's about to happen. I can't walk away from this, I just can't."

"Well, she might have not a Persona, but she's still more of a fighter than me," Sonja piped up. "Thank you for the help, by the way. Your swing is very impressive."

"Aw, no need, it was nothing—"

"Uh, girls?" Rosch said. "Should we get going? Our work's not done yet."

Stocke frowned. "I still think it'd be safer for Raynie to just go home." In fact, he would rather for all of them to leave and let him take care of everything, but of course this very sensible idea would never come to pass. Stocke's friends were much too stubborn for that.

"Actually, the safer option would be to call the police," Sonja said. "But something tells me it's not something you would even want to consider, right, Stocke?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "So we can all be labelled as lunatics since no one save for the four of us can see these things? Yeah, how about no?"

"Then, how come Raynie's able to see 'em?" said Rosch. "She doesn't have a Persona, remember?"

"I get the impression that Shadows live on a separate plane of reality from us," Sonja replied. "A world that exists just atop of ours. They sort of pull us into that world when we come into contact with them. Maybe by summoning his Persona in front of her, Stocke made Raynie became aware of it well? That's just a theory, mind you."

"That nurse at the hospital didn't see Hlín when you summoned her," Stocke reminded her. "There's something else, I just don't know what it is just yet…"

"That's good and all," said Rosch, "but we can all talk about this while walking, y'know? There's a huge monster sucking the life out of some poor bastard ahead."

Stocke sighed. "Alright, fine. Let's go. Raynie, stick close to us."

She gave him a weird little smile. "I'm not about to wander off, if that's what you're worried about." Again, an odd, fleeting look passed on her face. "Let's go," she said, abruptly. "If we stay here, I feel like I'm gonna go mad. There's something…" She let out a small noise of irritation, then fell silent.

Stocke could not help but frown as he examined her expression. "Alright. Let's see what's waiting for us deeper inside."

And the deeper they went, the stranger their surroundings became. At first, Sonja managed to guide them relatively well through the ever-growing succession of hallways, sensing with pinpoint accuracy the position of the greater Shadow lying in wait at the centre of this maddening maze. But as they advanced, she became less sure, as if something was obscuring Hlín's vision. Thankfully, only a few of the monster's minions came to hamper their progress. Still, by the time they had reached what was supposed to be the school auditorium, Stocke felt drained of all energy, even though every Shadow they had met had easily fallen to Baldr's flames (or, as much as he hated to admit, to Raynie's trusty hockey stick).

"You've spent too much of your magical power," Sonja said to him, her brow creasing. "You and Rosch, you really need to rest up a bit."

Stocke shook his head. On the walls, a series of strange photographs depicting a group of people had started to show. Their faces were all blurred, but somehow the images brought to mind the sappy movies Stocke's mother watched all the time.

"No," he said, gesturing to the door with his baseball bat, "we have to get going."

"Well, I think it's a bad idea," Sonja replied. "Don't you think the same, Raynie?" When the latter did not reply, she frowned, looking at Raynie with worried eyes. "Raynie?"

Again, Raynie said nothing. She walked over to the auditorium door, as if in a daze. With lethargic movements, she pushed it open. Something clenched painfully in Stocke's chest; without a word, he followed her, knowing well what was coming next.

The stage and the rows of chairs could not be found. Instead, the auditorium had taken the form of a quaint-looking living room—or at least, it would be, if it wasn't for the sheer sense of wrongness hanging in the air. A dying fire crackled in the hearth, bathing the whole of the place in an eerie light. Toys and other knickknacks littered the floor in varying states of disrepair. The wallpaper was peeling off in some places, revealing a rusted, metallic surface underneath, one that oozed a strange black goop.

Worse of all, Stocke found, were the family portraits that covered every other inch of the walls. This time, one face was recognizable among the group of people enclosed within the frames.

"Holy shit," Rosch said, in almost a murmur. "Uh, Stocke? Why is Raynie in all of those pictures…?"

Stocke did not answer, only pressing his mouth into a thin line as he watched Raynie taking in her surroundings with a blank stare.

Sonja laid a hand on Raynie's arm. "Raynie? Are you alright?"

She gave a little start when the door behind them snapped close. On the walls, the shadows grew in size, twisting and twitching under the flickering firelight. With empty eyes, Raynie stared ahead, frowning slightly as a voice softly broke the silence weighing down on the four teenagers.

Don't lie to them, the voice said, with a mother's tender tones. You've been alone for so long. Why bother pretending?

Raynie blinked, as if she'd just been snapped awake from a spell. "H-Huh? W-What's going on? Who's speaking?"

"Raynie, don't listen to it, she's—" Sonja began.

"Wait," Stocke said. "We need Raynie's help to defeat her Shadow. And she needs to hear what it has to say or else it'll go berserk."

Raynie looked at Stocke, an uncharacteristic vulnerability softening her features. For a moment, he felt sick for even suggesting that she go through the same harrowing process that had granted Rosch and Sonja the use of their Personas.

"What do you mean?" she told Stocke. "I don't understand…"

You can't hide it, the voice continued. I can help you. I can make you belong.

"Belong?" The spark of awareness began to dim from Raynie's eyes. "Yeah. Maybe I could belong somewhere…"

The shadows on the wall deepened to pitch black, and dark smoke scattered everywhere. Raynie took a step forward. Rosch and Sonja both cried out in alarm as a pair of golden eyes appeared from within the black mist. The Shadow watched Raynie's approach almost hungrily.

Stocke felt cold all over. Maybe letting Raynie talk to that thing wasn't such a good idea after all.

"Maybe I could be more than just a nobody," Raynie said, in no more than a whisper.

"What?" Sonja said in response. "Oh, Raynie, no…" She followed after her, raising her hand to touch Raynie's arm once more.

And Raynie's Shadow let out a shrill, ear-splitting shriek.

Something leaped out of the dark cloud, something big and lean and fast. The figure barreled across the room on all fours; the only thing Stocke could register before he had the sensible thought to summon Baldr was the sight of a pair of crazed, golden eyes locked on him.

Thankfully, Rosch's reflexes were sharper than Stocke's. Tyr sprang out of the blue light, rushing to meeting the Shadow with his shield. Stocke nearly stumbled off his feet from the violence of the collision. Tyr struggled, only managing to deflect the creature from its intended course. Claws scratched against the floor as the Shadow came to a stop a little farther away. It spun around, panting, long fangs showing from underneath the broken mask obscuring the top portion of its face. The creature appeared like a strange combination between a mangy feral dog and an underfed, skittsh lioness. It shook on unsteady paws, whines and growls leaving its mouth in equal part.

Raynie's eyes were very large, dark and unfathomable. "A stray," were the two words that came out of her lips as she contemplated her Shadow. "Is that's what I am?"

Stocke turned sharply to face her. "Of course not," he said. In response, her Shadow snarled. It paced around the room, possibly pondering its next move. Then, it went on the offensive once more.

Bolts of lightning and pillars of flame dogged its every step, but the Shadow evaded them with ease. Baldr's sword only slashed empty air whenever he tried to close in on the creature. Tyr, of course, could not hope to match its maddened pace; instead, Rosch kept him close so the Persona could guard them from the beast's razor-sharp claws and fangs.

Stocke could feel the sweat pooling from under his bangs. He was starting to feel dizzy. "Sonja! What kind of weakness does this thing have?"

Sonja huddled close to Hlín, one of her arm draped around Raynie's shoulder. The latter seemed unaware of the chaos unravelling all around. "I don't know!" Sonja said. "I don't think she's weak to any of the elements!"

"Aw, c'mon, give me a break!" Rosch shouted above the clamor of battle. So far, Tyr had managed to stop each of the Shadow's lightning-quick assaults—but with every passing second his parries became a little slower, a little more imprecise.

Sonja bit her lower lip, knitting her brows together. "Stocke, do you think you could anticipate her movements? You can't catch her or wear her out, but if you could always try to pull her into a trap."

"Yeah," Stocke said. He had thought the same. He had to squint to keep up with the Shadow as it tore through the room; oh, his head hurt so much, but he had to keep his eyes peeled on the damn thing, just in case he could glean a pattern out of the anarchy of its movements.

Baldr could not keep up with it, no. He had to trick the Shadow somehow, and to do that, Stocke had to find a way to catch it off guard.

"I need a diversion," he ground out, low enough so only his friends could hear. "Anyone got an idea?"

Rosch turned to Stocke, opening his mouth in order to answer. That single, seemingly inconsequential action nearly cost them everything. Tyr's vigilance slackened only for the merest of moments—but it was all the Shadow needed. It lunged at the Persona with a roar, ripping through the crimson armour with extended claws.

Rosch howled out in pain, keeling over. His Persona exploded in a burst of blue light. Stocke's mouth went dry as the creature's gaze fell upon him. Baldr soared forward to intercept the creature in its path, but the Shadow only swatted the red-clad warrior aside with the swipe of a paw. Stars danced in front of Stocke's eyes from the pain. Through the blur, he saw the beast charging toward them, canines bared, fur bristling.

And then, a trembling, unsteady figure met the Shadow head-on. Stocke grit his teeth, stifling a curse, as he watched Raynie raise the hockey stick in the air, as if a simple piece of wood could stop the monstrous being currently bearing down on her.

…except, by some miracle, it did.

The Shadow skidded to a halt before it could reach her. Instead of advancing further, it paced and panted, something resembling confusion settling in its golden gaze. A strange little whimper filtered from its mouth.

Raynie stood her ground, face twisting with disgust and anger. "Yeah, you piece of shit! That's what I thought! You're all talk, huh? You're just hot air and not much else!"

Stocke was not one to squander such a chance. He called Baldr, and the Persona responded instantly to his summons, slashing at the Shadow with his sword. The beast shrieked, struggling to stay upright as the attack connected with one of its hind legs. Baldr showed no mercy even in the face of the Shadow's pain. He pressed on with the offense, hacking and piercing until the creature could only back away, a dark mist oozing out of its wounds like blood. The world wavered in front of Stocke's eyes, and his head was swimming, but he had to keep going, he had to destroy the damn thing before it unleashed more hell, he had to—

"Stocke!" Sonja suddenly cried out, startling him. Immediately, Baldr stayed his hand, and his sword remained hovering above the Shadow's wheezing, prostate form. "Stocke, that's enough! That Shadow, it's not just any monster! It's part of someone!"

Her words were like being doused with a bucket of ice-cold water. Stocke found Raynie's gaze and realized with a pang that her eyes were full of tears; in contrast to her earlier bravado, she seemed barely able to stand on her two feet.

"Sorry," he croaked. "I wasn't thinking straight. I…"

Raynie shook her head a little. "Nah, s'alright. I don't really understand what's going on, but I get it. That thing was out of control. I guess I need to take a good hard look at myself, huh?"

"It's not your fault, Raynie," Stocke said.

"Oh, don't get me wrong, dude, I'm not about to wallow in self-pity." Raynie was sniffing, but her tone was light, almost optimistic. "That's not the kind of person I am. I know there's a lot of shitty stuff that happened in my life, but there's some good too. I won't allow the world to beat me down, y'know?"

As she spoke, her Shadow crawled closer, head hanging low, tail tucked between its legs. Stocke tensed, and Rosch scrambled to his feet with a curse, aided by Sonja. Still, Stocke could sense no animosity, no fear, from the beast. Its eyes were fixated on Raynie, who was smiling despite the water welling up in her eyes.

"Raynie, when you called yourself a stray, what did you mean?" Sonja said softly.

"Heh." Raynie's grin became a little rueful. "I don't know anything about my birth parents. I've been shuffled from foster family to foster family ever since I was little. It's all I've ever known. Those people, they've always been super nice to me, really, but…" She dropped her gaze, and her Shadow approached a little more, standing over her in a way that Stocke could only call protective. "It never really clicked. There's something missing. And once I turn eighteen…"

"You'll be out of the system," Sonja said. "You're afraid you'll be on your own, without anybody to help."

Raynie shrugged. "I'm sure my current foster family would help. They've got tons of money. They wouldn't leave me hanging. But…"

But there's more to supporting your kid that just giving them financial security, Stocke thought.

"So there's a part of me that always wonders if my life would have been different with my real folks around," Raynie said. "I keep telling myself it's not healthy to dwell on things like that, but I guess I was more scared than I thought. Else, that thing wouldn't have come out of me."

Rosch was leaning heavily on Sonja. "Hell," he said. "I think you're being awfully positive about the subject. I know I'd be scared shitless in your shoes."

"Yeah?" Raynie said. She wiped her tears with one hand, her grin growing more genuine. "Nice to know that's just not me being a wuss."

Behind her, the Shadow was bathed in a soft blue glow. Sonja let out a little gasp when it transformed, becoming a tall figure wearing a silvery set of armour over a blue tunic. Raynie's Persona twirled a long spear in her hands with astounding skillfulness. The only traits that remained from her previous form were a pair of feline ears coming out of her helmet and long, lithe legs resembling a lion's limbs.

Slowly, Raynie turned to gaze at her Persona. The Persona responded to her grin with a sort of mock curtsy. Then she was gone.

"She's lovely!" Sonja said. Her own Persona shimmered beside her. "Hlín says her name is Sigrún."

"Sigrún, huh?" Raynie appeared giddy as a little kid. "I love it! Finally, I can help you guys bust some heads now!"

"You were already plenty efficient just with that stick of yours!" Rosch said with good humour. "Glad to have you aboard!"

Raynie responded with a nervous chuckle, her cheeks now touched with a shade of pink. Still, Stocke could not share his friends' joy and relief. Again, he had dragged someone else in his mess. Stocke sighed, grabbing his head with one hand. His stomach was queasy, and he felt even more light-headed than before. He did not want to celebrate Raynie's victory, only to lie down and maybe sleep for a week.

"Hey, Stocke?" came Rosch's voice. He and Raynie were now looking at Stocke, worry evident on their features. "You okay, man? You don't look so good."

"Yeah, maybe we should get going," Raynie said. "I totally feel I could use like, a nap or ten."

Stocke was about to agree when there was a cry of alarm from Sonja. Next to her, Hlín spun to face the door, a sense of distress radiating from her.

"Guys," Sonja said, her voice shaking a bit. "It's not over yet. There's still another Shadow inside the school."

"Do they always come in pairs?!" Rosch exclaimed as they rushed to where Hlín had sensed the Shadow.

"How should I know?" an equally exasperated Stocke replied.

"I bet it's deliberate," Raynie said through grit teeth. "They're trying to wear us out, the filthy bastards."

Stocke was pretty sure that Shadows were unable to form such a coherent strategy, but he said nothing, only pressing on instead. Soon, the four of them had reached a part of the school Stocke had never visited: the room where music classes were usually given.

"The music room?" Raynie said. "But… no one is supposed to be in here… unless…"

A sense of foreboding crept over Stocke as he watched the blood drain from her face. He pushed the door open, and the four of them burst into the music classroom, flanked by their Personas.

All the chairs in the room had been pushed toward the walls, save for one, placed right in the middle of the place. A boy was sitting in the wooden seat. Above him, a dark figure lingered, its long, finger-like appendages draped around his chest. Raynie let out a whimper.

"Marc?" she said, tentatively taking a step forward. "Can you hear me? Marc, look at me, please."

Marco made no sign that indicated he had heard his friend. His gaze never left the Shadow that had taken hold of him; the dark eyes were glassy, unfocused.

"Marc!" Rayne shouted. In response to her outburst, her Persona edged forward, spear at the ready.

Marco whipped his head to look at her—or rather, at her Persona. Above him, the Shadow did the same, golden eyes gleaming with a sort of morbid curiosity that sent goosebumps prickling across Stocke's skin.

"Raynie?" Marco asked. "What are you doing here?"

"We're here to save you!" Raynie said, despairingly. "Marc, get over here, please!"

"Save me…? From what…?"

"There's not time to explain," Rosch said. "Just believe us when we say you're really, really in danger right now."

Raynie held out her hand. "Yeah! Just do as we say, 'kay? There's no need to be scared."

Stocke frowned. It was all so similar to the time Sonja had been possessed by her own Shadow… but something felt off. Stocke just couldn't put his finger on what it was just yet. Sonja grabbed one of his arms, fingernails digging into the fabric of his jacket. Usually, she would have been the first to reach out to Marco and comfort him—except she had not. Dread churned in the pit of Stocke's stomach.

Marco's gaze came to rest on Raynie's outstretched hand. "Why? I'm fine. I don't need your help." The Shadow tightened its hold on him, and Marco leaned back into the chair, closing his eyes, almost as he was about to fall asleep.

"No!" screamed Raynie. She broke into a run, her Persona following closely behind. Stocke, to his great shame, felt like his feet were rooted to the ground. He could only remain helpless, useless, as he watched the horrible events unfolding in front of his eyes.

The Shadow dissolved into a dark mist that swirled in the air, stretching and expanding until it filled the whole of the room. Marco went stiff in his chair, eyes snapping wide, mouth opening in a silent scream.

Then the black fog swept downward with the speed and the force of a hurricane. Marco did not cry out, did not even utter a sound as the Shadow poured inside his eyes and mouth. His body thrashed in his chair, but an invisible force seemed to pin him down to his seat.

And Raynie kept screaming and screaming.

A mere few seconds later, and it was over. Marco's body gave a final shudder, then went slack, slowly starting to slide from the chair. Before he could touch the ground, Raynie threw her hockey stick aside to hurry toward him, catching him in his fall.

"Marc! Marc, Marc, Marc…" Now, tears were streaming down her cheeks in earnest. "Marc, open your eyes, please, wake up, talk to me…"

Sonja brought her hands together in front of her mouth. She was crying as well.

"S-Sonja," Rosch said, "the S-Shadow… what did it just do…?" His tone was fearful, disbelieving; he almost sounded like a little child asking for help.

In response, Sonja only shook her head, a louder sob escaping her lips. She reached for Stocke, and instinctively, numbly, he pulled her into a hug.

"Stocke," Raynie said, imploringly. Stocke flinched at the sound of his name, but he could not move a muscle, let alone form a coherent sentence. "He's breathing, and I-I can feel his pulse, but… why isn't he waking up, S-Stocke? W-What's wrong with him?"

Stocke opened his mouth, but his voice strangled in his throat. He was so, so cold. Raynie was speaking, but it seemed to him all he could hear was the blood thumping in his ears.

"Stocke? Tell me he's alright, tell me he's gonna be fine, p-please!"

Stocke could still not answer. He felt as if he was stuck in a place far, far away from here—a place that seemed more real, in a sense, than the world of horrors currently perceived by his physical senses. A place where he was deaf to Raynie's pleas, a place where he was blind to the terrible sight of her cradling her friend's inanimate (not dead, not dead, not dead) body.

A place where he had not witnessed a kid his own age being devoured by the personification of all of his biggest fears and regrets.

Stocke's legs buckled from under him. He was out cold even before his head could touch the ground.