A couple things before we begin…

First and foremost, a little TOH glyph lore. Like with everything else in RealmWalkers, I have strived to ensure everything in the story remains within canon, as a feasible sequel. As such, some readers might be confused about the fact that glyph magic, which Luz in the series is unable to perform while in the human realm, seems to work within the human realm within this story.

The reason lies in the fact that Luz has no inherent magical capability, being a native resident of the Human Realm. A witch or biped demon with a working bile sack, like Lillith in S1E19, is fully capable of performing magic within the Human Realm. Glyph magic, as shown by Gus' use of it in S2E5, serves a similar purpose to a training wand (like Amity's in S1E12)- amplifying a magic-user's magic beyond that which they could normally perform without the training wand or glyph. This is what occurs within the Human Realm in this episode.

Secondly, this episode, at my admission, does go darker than the series as a whole. If you are concerned that the entire series will be made up of darker, more T-rated episodes, I will assure you that that is not the case. The show will return to a lighter format similar to that in TOH, GF and Amphibia, with a mix of slice-of-life episodes to advance relationships (platonic, romantic and antagonistic) and plot episodes to advance… well, the plot, with occasional plot episodes with a similar, more realistic tone- but those will make up the clear minority of this series. If you came in here looking for a lighter, more Disney Channel-esque story, feel free to skim over this episode for plot setup and then advance to Episode 3 or 4 when it comes out. (If the response is strong enough, I may also add a summary of this episode and the next one at the beginning of Episode 4, almost like a "Previously On" segment, for readers who wish to do exactly that). But for those who are down for a little darkness in your Disney… go ahead and enjoy this second episode in its entirety. :)

And now… we begin!

EPISODE 2- THE GIRL WITH THE POINTED EARS

Night had, at long last, fallen upon the autumn skies of Los Angeles.

The sun had passed beyond the kingdoms of indigo until the shadowy realms of darkest black. A gentle breeze billowed the caution tape barricading the Reddick house's perimeter as officers scattered to and fro, practically dancing on their toes in an effort to avoid the bitter chills brought on by the nightfall. As Matthew Peters watched the temperature gently slip below 60, the mercury falling, millimeter by millimeter as the gutters above her were cast in the light of the moonshine,

And that was when the Sergeant arrived.

"Mr. Sugar," Matthew stammered, "I-I-"

"It's Cain," growled Sergeant Cain, who strode over to, his face contorted into a scowl as he turned the Eye of Providence necklace over and over again in his hands. "Call me by my first name ONE MORE TIME, Deputy Peters, and I will be forced to-"

"Oh f*** off." Lieutenant Yyric Peters, his flame-red hair practically glowing as his lanky frame hobbled into the picture, said with an almost careless air. "May I remind you that Gustafson has appointed me as your superior? So unless you want to face the wrath of the Chief, I suggest you cease all threats against my husband and-"

"What Gustafson does not know," hissed Cain between gritted teeth, "will not hurt him."

"Like I'm supposed to care," laughed Yyric carelessly, "about a single word that comes out of the mouth of a man named Sugar Cain-"

Cain's fists clasped. "If Chief Gustafson hadn't had the audacity to make you- YOU- my superior, just because you're the only one willing to literally grovel at his feet like a damn SERVANT…" he hissed, steam practically pouring out of his ears, "your head would be roasting on a spit as I watched and cried laughing-"

"But I am," Yyric chuckled. "And maybe you of all people shouldn't be mishandling that necklace- after all, given that we took it off the bodies of the culprits, it could be very well leveraged as evidence at the onset of court proceedings-"

"LIEUTENANT YYRIC."

Chief Gustafson coughed. All three men whirled around- Cain folding his arms and forming a scowl to disguise the fear slowly creeping along his ragged face, Peters letting out a shrill squeak, and Yyric kneeling to the ground, as if expressing fealty towards an autocrat.

"Let it be known that I, against my better judgment, allowed you to become my lieutenant on the grounds of your undying loyalty to the Los Angeles Police Department and the values we so dearly hold true. But abuse that authority…" he said, his gaze narrowing and his limbs fading from mobility, "... and I assure you that your excommunication from our department will be the LEAST of your concerns." His eyes then turned to Sergeant Cain. "And Mr. Sugar," he added, as Cain's face flushed a shade of deepest crimson, "why don't you turn over the evidence and come with me. We have some… urgent matters to discuss."

Cain, roiling with anger, shoved the Illuminati necklace into Yyric's freckle-dotted hands. "Here," he spat, his voice not the least bit disguised. "I'm sure either you or your pansy of a husband will find some use out of this little… piece of sh*t." Feeling, in a twisted manner, rather satisfied with himself- a rattled Sugar Cain ambled off into the darkness of the night.

As he watched the Sergeant and his unseasonably elongated nose disappear behind the Reddick house's walls, Yyric examined the necklace- and the pendant hung at its vertex, a gleaming golden triangle- with a yellow tourmaline eye set at its very center. (There was also something of a clasp at its very top, which Yyric thought resembled a black bowler hat- but in all likelihood, it was probably just there for function, function and nothing more.) Loath to admit it as he was, the piece of jewelry did have a certain allure to it. It may have been evidence… but showing it off to Matthew for a few minutes couldn't possibly hurt…

As Yyric unfastened the clasp and hung the chain around his protruding neck, Deputy Matthew Peters staggered over to his husband and embraced him in his arms. "Thank you," he practically crying- "thank you, you saved me…"

Having finished fastening the necklace, Yyric wrapped his arms around his husband in return. "I'll never leave you." He squeezed even tighter.

"Yeesh, Yyric," Matthew pracitically squeaked, laughing feebly. "You know I love your bear-hugs, honey, but don't you think that's a little too tight-"

Yyric just continued to squeeze tighter.

"Baby," squeaked Matthew, trying to keep laughing, "my lungs-"

As Matthew struggled against his grasp, Yyric opened his eyes- but there was nothing left. His eyes, it appeared, had collapsed in upon themselves- retreated into the back of her head, leaving nothing but ashes and a blinding, golden glow that shone from his eyes like headlights. Nothing else looked off about him- his smile, however crooked and cruel, remained the same- his freckled skin was unchanged, and his clothes remained the exact same- spare for the necklace, whose eye had begun to faintly glow.

"Yyyy-"

SNAP.

As his husband's ribs caved in and death overtook him in a matter of seconds, Yyric's mouth began to move, speaking in a dark, ominous voice that was VERY much not his own.

"I have seen the Light."

Matthew's body slipped from his husband's grasp and spilled onto the floor.

"The Informant has shown me the way,"

The only other officer in the vicinity, a 20-something trainee named Carmen Estrada, screamed in shock, scrambling to her feet and unholstering her pistol as she aimed it directly at the possessed Yyric's chest.

"And to the Informant's will, in exaction, I do now subscribe."

Carmen's pistol finally managed to fix its mark- but Yyric was faster with the trigger.

"For where we go one…,"

A flash of crimson flew through the air as Carmen buckled and collapsed to the earth, her lifeblood spilling out as the light faded from her eyes-

"...we go all."

-{}-

Gasping audibly with shock, Heather stifled her panic to scramble backward as the creature drew out its shadowy claw and reached out its corrosive hand towards the girl's body- just as she finally found the trigger and, with a warrior's resolve and an archer's aim, fired a single shot directly into the arm of the beast.

There was a horrible, piercing scream that forced Heather's hands to spring up, in a single, stomach-lurching moment, over her ears as the creature's arm erupted into jet-back flames. As the girl stirred and rolled over onto her side, the shadowy creature turned its heterochromatic gaze towards Heather, who was really too busy trying to decide which of the beast's eyes to look into to really notice much else- and stopped in its tracks.

Heather's all-too-brief moment of victory, however, was soon stifled by the fact that the beast had now shifted course and was barreling straight for her. Snatching her pistol and pulling herself to her feet, she managed to stagger up a veritable hill of storage boxes exhibiting decades of neglect as the charging demon burned through an iron safe and only continued to expand along the floor, burning away and releasing a horrible sulfuric stench that seared the inside of Heather's nostrils. Gently shaking the pistol and her heart skipping a beat upon hearing only two rounds clatter against the metal barrel, she took aim as the beast's right claw slowly started to reform and ascend up the mound, before closing her eyes as her finger depressed the switch-

BANG. Just before the bullet flew from Heather's pistol, the creature raised its hands as two ribbons of light, one blue and one golden, whirled around his shadowy arms in brilliant concentric circles as he raised his hands and let fly a terrifying, contorted fireball of blinding light shot out and collided with Heather's bullet…

…but it was to no avail. To the demon's horror, the light passed through the bullet unaffected and slammed into the mountain of spare FedEx containers upon which Heather stood, sending them collapsing under their own weight as Heather dove at the last minute, her legs leaving the ground in a perfectly poised arc before her face slammed into the concrete below, gouging a crimson stain upon her rosy cheek and tearing up scar tissue at her septum, in a far less elegant manner. The bullet, meanwhile, tore through its trajectory and lodged itself in the left of the monster's two gaping, twisted, ram's horns, the tip of which teetered for a few heart-racing moments upon its stump before splitting and toppling onto the floor, severed from its base altogether.

Heather's vision grew clouded. Her gaze, with the sharp focus and accuracy befitting someone of her position, grew clouded in ash and the porous, burning liquid that trickled down her face like crimson wine. Her face a ragged mess of scarring and searing pain, she managed to roll herself over and fall drunkenly onto her stomach, her head spinning and her mind slipping from control, left with nothing to do but flail her arms about madly and pray for a miracle. Above her, the demon raised its arms once more as blue and golden light poured out from their depths, circling around his twisted head as the rays coalesced into shapes, the brightest sun and the most ominous moon, wrapping around its jet-black skull like some sort of hovering crown. As blue and yellow veins carved themselves into his ominous, shadowy arms, the demon raised its claw and brought it down to strike upon the poor, defenseless officer- but his aim wasn't true. Instead, the laser-printer with which his arm collided burst into a conflagration of ash- and simultaneously erupted in golden flames, which within seconds eradicated what little visible remains were left of it. Furious, the monster raised his other arm, which, as it flew higher into the air, slowly started to reshape itself into the outline of a jagged rapier, and drove its tip directly into the woman's heart-

-only to be caught, mere inches from penetrating Heather's skin, and sent collapsing to the ground with a rather satisfying thud.

As the taser coils sprang free of the beast's skin, it, in one fluid motion, regained every ounce of momentum and drive that had seeped away in the ensuing confrontation. Heather fired the taser once more into the demon's chest- but they slinked back to the ground, limp and useless, the demon's body somehow already miraculously adapted to ensure something like the events of the last few minutes NEVER happened again. Defeated, left with nothing left to do but wait for a miracle, she inched her limp body a few inches back, as if THAT would have helped her, bracing for the inevitable impact. Except the beast's first move wasn't to attack.

It was to, as if somebody had cut a slit within its shadowy face, open its mouth, concealed behind it a darkness so pure and terrifying that Heather could not bear to glance within a foot of it-

-and speak.

"WHAT," shrieked the monster, "IS THIS TERRIBLE-"

It raised its-blade arm above its rune-crowned head, this time fixed upon Callie's head an unwilling to miss-

"MAGIC-"

Heather, in a single second, withdrew the pistol she had been hiding under her blood-soaked chest and, her hand trembling as she fingered the switch, fired her final bullet directly into the demon's temple.

What happened next has no technical name in either science nor military tactics, but could be most accurately described as an instantaneous implosion of the head, followed by the disintegration and subsequent eruption into cerulean and dandelion flames of every last remaining piece of the body. As pieces of shadow-demon drifted to the ground like cold, powdery December snow, Heather cast the empty pistol aside and pulled herself, bit by excruciating bit, leaving a trail of blood as thick as slime from a snail, to the base of the wall upon which was slumped the pointy-eared girl, a jagged gash trickling down her face as she muttered sweet poetry to herself, blissfully unaware of the events that had just transpired whilst she lay in her subconscious state.

Shaking the girl with energy she didn't even have, Heather watched as she rubbed her drowsy eyes with her sleeve, the peaceful, almost heartwarming domesticity of it all standing in sharp contrast to everything else she had undergone over the last few minutes. The girl opened her eyes and surveyed the area around them, the black powder that drifted in the stagnant air and coated the bloodsoaked, ash-riddled pavement floor, a look of subtly concerned skepticism spreading over her mahogany face.

"It's gone," Heather placated, stroking and combing her fingers through the girl's mane of cedarwood-scented natural hair. "We beat it. That monster- that thing… it's- it's gone."

She glanced over at the girl with the pointed ears, expecting some sort of sign of relief, a sigh, a "thanks", even.

But all the girl said, with her reply, was as follows- "You're a f***ing idiot."

Heather had to take a moment to right herself. She had just saved this girl, this strange, pointy-eared girl that had turned up in some dead LA family's basement, from being reduced to ashes and probably consumed by a terrifying magical shadow demon- and her response was to call her an idiot. A f***ing idiot, at that. Well, at least one of those statements was right. "Wait, what did you-"

"LOOK OUT!"

Jarred by the girl's unprecedented volume, Heather whirled about herself- just in time to see the very shadow demon she had just imploded, every inch reformed and as alive as ever, bringing down its cleaver-arm upon Heather's right eye.

"Fuuuu-"

The pointy-eared girl raised her arms, there was a blinding flash, and the entire world faded to white.

-{}-

When Heather opened her eyes, she found herself fixating on a nose.

Now, it wasn't just any nose. It was a rather large nose, almost like the evolutionary descendant of a snout.

As her narrow gaze expanded, she found herself gazing upon a pair of eyes, green and sunken, as if something had sapped all the humanity out of them. Below was a mouth, twisted in abject determination and framed by an ocean of raggen, black-and-grey stubble. Her stomach dropped.

Except Sergeant Cain didn't seem to notice her.

As his gaze drifted directly past her and the pointy-eared girl whose arm still rested lazily upon her shoulder, he slipped his walkie-talkie off his belt and, as Chief Gustafson's coughs rang over the line, sputtered "There's nothing down here." Wiping dust off his jacket, he turned to the northern wall, upon which once more sat a massive circular rune, composed entirely of glistening red embers- and examined it closely, jotting down notes on his legal pad and muttering, exasperatedly and under his breath, "Okay, okay. I give up. So why don't you show yourself, don't you… where in the Hells are you…" Muttering obscenities under his breath, he stormed away and disappeared behind a tower of boxes struck and collapsed in the battle.

All of a sudden, she felt as the pointy-eared girl elbowed her in the side. She stifled a shriek and rolled over, glancing over at the girl with utmost indignation. "Be quiet!", she hastily whispered, praying to avoid notice by Cain or (god forbid) whatever it was that had poured out of the southern wall.

"He can't hear you," responded the girl. "I've managed to modify the glyph combination to obscure sound as well as sight, but it won't hold for long…"

Sound? Sight? Glyph combinations? "What- how- who are you?"

"My name is Zami Reddick," responded the girl. "Or at least, it seems that is my name here."

Heather waited a minute, expecting more than just a name, but the girl refused to utter a single other word. She glanced down at her Fitbit, still carefully wrapped around her arm like a lifelin. Being in her line of work, especially when tied to a bond like hers, was not easy. And this little Fitbit was the only way to make sure Sasha could carry on her legacy if, and when, she passed.

Finally resolving, after several minutes of insistence, that Zami was loath to reveal any more, she searched for something else to say. "That thing. How- how on earth am I alive, how did you defeat it…"

Zami smiled and gestured toward the flaming glyph on the northern wall. She then whirled around and, Heather's head following suit, pointed directly at the southern wall, which was once more obscured by a towering curtain of flames that still refused to leave the bounds of the wall.

"The flames," Heather wondered aloud. "The wall- as long as that rune, that glyph is there, that wall is there… and whatever that monster was can't pass through the flames, right?" She glanced down at her Fitbit once more. Still intact. Thank the heavens.

Zami nodded. "For a human," she laughed, "you're surprisingly intuitive."

For a human. "Is that why Cain can't see or hear us, too?" asked Heather. "Those flames?"

"No," replied Zami. She then lifted her right hand, which was clasped over Heather's chest- revealing the small piece of paper crumpled up inside which, upon which was hastily inscribed several smaller glyphs connected by an intricate web of lines, all of which were faintly glowing an aquamarine blue. "Just like these," she said, pulling out a wad of papers from her pocket, "which healed those nasty wounds you got fighting that demon."

Wounds. Between everything that had happened since Heather had regained consciousness, she had not had time to recall the fact that, by the time she was knocked out, her entire face and body were covered with scar tissue and grievous wounds- not to mention notice the fact that they no longer pained her or existed. "Then why are you here? How did you get here? Where are you even FROM-"

"I've already told you too much," Zami interrupted. "He is probably already watching you. And trust me, once Him realizes that you're a threat, you're never going to survive. His Illuminati goons will be after you like heat-seeking missiles. Your best hope is that we stop talking, and you follow me. And we run. Now. Those glyphs won't hide us from Him for long. Besides," smiled Zami, trying to inject a dose of levity into the situation, "I rather expected a 'thank you' after summarily informing you that I just magically healed your every wound."

"Him…" stuttered Heather, ignoring Zami's addendum as worry started to compound within her deep-seated stomach. "You're telling us that that monster- that demon from the walls- is after US?"

"No," Zami responded, and Heather breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's much worse than that."

Heather gulped.

"That demon, Tiri, was but a minion of His, stolen from an entire realm He has conquered," warned Zami. "And pretty soon, small-time demons like Tiri are gonna be the least of your problems. You can trust me on that."

Heather said nothing.

"You don't believe me, do you?" asked Zami, a childish, goofy smile spreading across her face. "Eh, I couldn't expect you to. You just single-handedly fought off a demon, and now I'm talking about dimensions and realms and an ancient entity that probably wants you and DEFINITELY wants me dead…"

"Believe it or not," Heather laughed, "I know exactly what you're talking about." Wistfully, she looked down at the necklace that was hung upon her neck- and peered e'r closer as the light shone off its sheer silver face. At first glance, it appeared to be a sheet of metal, perhaps from a suit of half-plate armor- but in reality it seemed almost natural, like some sort of animal scale or natural armor- but far larger than any scale she had ever seen in the Human Realm.

Zami was mere milliseconds away from responding when, all of a sudden, the light emanating from the invisibility glyph-paper flickered and, for a few fleeting seconds, their bodies flickered into view.

As, rather unfortunately, did their voices. As the first semblances of letters crept out of Zami's mouth, she caught from the corner of her eye the faint flicker of the invisibility glyph- but not before her vocal chords had generated noise enough to catch the attention of Sergeant Cain, still perched behind the cavalcade of boxes as he dug through old files in search of anything, everything that could lead him to the answers he sought… which Heather was starting to suspect no longer had nothing to do with the Reddicks. In an instant, he whirled around, drawing his pistol and aiming it directly at the spot where Heather and Zami stood huddled- only, as far he could see, there was and always had been nothing there.

"I know you're there, Realmwalker," he whispered tersely. "Don't be ridiculous. You and I both know what He wants from us, and it just so happens that you're my only ticket home…"

As the shroud crept back up once more, Zami's demeanor grew concerned. "The glyph is already starting to fail. Not only will that mean that the man will notice us… but it also means the glyph that's protecting the firewall will begin to falter in turn. And we both know what happens next." She paused for a moment, peeling off a hangnail with her incisors. "If we don't get out of here in the next couple minutes, everything's going to go to Hell. In some ways, literally." As Zami spoke, Heather felt a rustling by her waist as her holster began to tremble against her side-

She leapt to try and stop her, but it was too late. The pistol, successfully withdrawn almost entirely without drawing its owner's attention, was clasped in Zami's hands, its barrel pointed directly into the face of Sergeant Cain. The girl had witnessed the end of her standoff with the demon. She knew how to fire it.

The girl with the pointed ears placed her index finger on the trigger and squeezed- but not before Heather rammed directly into her, toppling her over as the bullet, with a mighty bang, sailed far to Cain's left and embedded itself in the overturned pool table at the basement's center. Cain whirled around and pulled his pistol- and this time, he could see its target. The invisibility glyph, knocked across the room by Heather and Zami's collision, sat on the basement floor, rendered moot.

"Officer Heather?" gasped Cain, utterly bewildered. But then his gaze shifted to the girl she was standing directly adjacent to.

His face flushed red, his eyes began to water, and he clenched his fists so hard that Heather could hear them crackle. "YOU-"

All of a sudden, Cain froze midair and was propelled five feet backward, spasming wildly for around ten seconds before collapsing to the floor, unconscious, as the taser coils sprung back out of his flesh and retracted into the very same taser that, at that exact moment, slipped out of Heather's outstretched hands and clattered to the ground.

"How fast can you draw another one of those invisibility glyphs?"

"5 minutes, but since I haven't had time to prepare a breath spell I'm not going to be able to-"

"Good, because, we need to go," sputtered Heather, still struggling to grapple with the realization that she just tasered her boss. "Like, NOW."

-{}-

When Heather Waybright stepped out of the Reddicks' house, having not only discovered that the source of the Illuminati murders was a terrifying shadow demon from another realm sent by a malevolant interdimensional entity referred to only by a single pronoun, but also uncovered within the Reddicks' basement a girl with pointed ears and magical powers who seemed to be somehow at the center of this whole conspiracy (who she, by some strange twist of fate, was now hiding beneath her arm under the protection of an invisibility glyph), she did not expect that the first thing she would be greeted by would be a literal pile of bleeding corpses and a through of police officers running for cover as they engaged in an active standoff with a murderer. Then again, Heather Waybright had never expected to step out of the Reddicks' house, having not only discovered that the source of the Illuminati murders was a terrifying shadow demon from another realm sent by a malevolant interdimensional entity referred to only by a single pronoun, but also uncovered within the Reddicks' basement a girl with pointed ears and magical powers who seemed to be somehow at the center of this whole conspiracy (who she, by some strange twist of fate, was now hiding beneath her arm under the protection of an invisibility glyph, in the first place. So there's that.

What surprised her even more was the fact that the person was not only completely unrelated to the demon/Illuminati mess she had been dealing with over the past hour or so, but was an officer within the LAPD itself.

What was even more surprising was that the murderer was, in fact, really one of the nicest guys in the entire LAPD. The same guy who had, moments before she stepped into the house and was almost reduced to ashes by a massive creature made entirely out of shadows and light, handed her the Illuminati necklace. Which he was now wearing. And it was glowing.

Yyric Peters stood, crouched behind Sergeant Cain's police car. After several minutes of waiting, someone, some young, inept trainee, would run out from behind the barricade and try their hand at felling the man who was holding them all hostage in the entry foyer. Inevitably, they would pull a pistol on Yyric, truly believing for less than a second that they had accomplished the impossible- but, quite strangely for a man whose aim had been the subject of much ridicule (prior, that is, to his being possessed by a possibly cursed Eye of Providence necklace), Yyric Peters never missed. Soon, their body would be just another roadblock in the way for the next tribute to go out and join the army of the dead. That was, for the first half hour.

Life finds a way, and so does the LAPD. After Chief Gustafson slid into the drivers' seat of the Reddick family car and escaped the minute Yyric suffocated his husband, leapt behind the barricade and began his assault, his other second-in-command Lieutenant McCoy was forced to step in (given that, y'know, Gustafson's other second-in-command was the person they were being forced to fight). And compared to Gustafson, Cain and the other commanding officers Heather had thus far encountered, Carmen McCoy was something of a decent human being. Within minutes, she had worked out everything she needed to about the situation- all Wi-Fi and cellular reception within the building had been caught off (likely due to, although she did not know it, Heather and Zima's basement incident)- making calling for help or even a drone strike quite simply impossible. Only two vehicles were accessible without entering no-man's land- the Reddicks' car and Cain's police conveyance- but the former had already been co-opted, while any use of the latter required confronting and taking out Yyric as a prerequisite- which, as a dozen poor trainees had already established, had gone beyond a no-go. But McCoy was not to be stopped.

What the Lieutenant then laid out was as follows. Her very own platoon of forces, a special-ops division brought in from Compton to tackle "difficult cases" had come prepared with three specialized armored suits, usable in both high-stakes tactical engagements such as these as well as situations, such as gas attacks and bombings, that may require an enhanced level of bodily protection. One by one, she began to send field officers trained in tactical engagement to confront- except these came to no avail. In both occasions, Yyric, in a single shot directly at the visor, managed to compromise the suit, leaving the officer inside to flee unharmed in the brief moment of cover granted by their assailant reloading. And so as Heather stepped out of the building and breathed in the first blissful gasp of Californian air she had taken in hours, she just watched as Asimo slowly but surely lowered himself into the third and final armored suit, a grenade launcher mounted on his left arm and a truly terrifying weapon of no particular distinction embedded within his right.

Zami still holding her breath behind her, Heather limped her way over to the base of the suit (even the 8th wonder of the world that was Zami's healing magic could not so easily repair the broken bones incurred from her plunge onto concrete), shaking

Asimo, in one ragged breath, relayed a brief summary of everything that had transpired in Heather's absence, as he watched her limbs go limp and her mouth hang open in utter, slack-jawed shock at his words.

"That's not true." Heather choked. "That couldn't possibly have- i was in there for what, maybe 30 minutes-"

"You were in there for over three hours," replied an exhausted Asimo, "and I wouldn't be saying this if it weren't 100% true."

She stood there for a moment, simultaneously contending with her shock and forming a plan- something that Heather doubted she would have realized she even had the potential to do had she not gone through the last… 3 hours exactly like she had.

"What's wrong with him? The Yyric Peters I know would never, EVER do something like-"

" I know," replied Asimo sadly. "We're thinking he's possessed. By what or whom exactly, we don't know. But something strange has happened to his eyes- it's like they've caved in, and been replaced with an endless well of blinding, golden light. Like something out of a low-budget 90's horror movie. We've tried getting him out, yelling at him, trying to get him to change back, to drop this- but nothing's worked. We're starting to think that he might be gone for good."

"That's because he is."

The invisibility glyph clattered to the ground. Zami Reddick stood, her hands outstretched and a look of worry borne upon her expression, directly within Asimo's field of view. He leapt in his seat so sharply that the suit teetered and practically tipped over upon itself.

"That's-" coughed Asimo madly. "That's-"

"The Reddicks' girl, yes," snapped Heather back. "But you've gotta promise not to mention her to anyone. Not even the Sergeant. DEFINITELY not the Sergeant."

"She-" stammered Asimo, with almost childlike wonder. 'She wasn't there- and then she was there- like that! Like POOF- and then she's there, and then she's gone!"

"Gurl," laughed Heather, "we just fought a literal demon and are now having to outsmart a possessed twink from the exurbs of Boston. I don't think Zami's powers are the most pressing concern at this very moment."

"Wait… you fought a DEMON?"

Heather froze for a moment, twiddling her thumbs and not exactly sure how to explain everything that had happened to her in the Reddicks' basement, when suddenly-

"What're y'alls standing around for, exactly? Get that officer in that suit and send him out there!" Lieutenant McCoy sauntered into the foyer, scribbling down notes on her legal pad as workers continued to strap additional padding to Asimo's arms and tenderly polish the grenade launcher like a beloved pet.

"With all due respect, Lieutenant," interjected Asimo-

"I don't need your respect, Officer," McCoy retorted. "I need you strapped in to that suit and stamping out that rogue Lieutenant before I can say-"

The ground shook.

McCoy teetered for a bit, balance wavering on her right leg before she toppled to the ground. Heather clung to Asimo's suit as the five or so other workers bolted over, tearing through the resistance of the tremors to join her struggle in keeping the armor upright. And through it all, Zami just stood there, unwavered, her worry only multiplying. She glanced down at her hand, and found nothing. Not a scratch, not a single cinder, anywhere.

As they finally managed to restabilize Asimo's suit, Heather broke from the other workers and extended her hand to Lieutenant McCoy, who grasped it tight and, with an almighty heave, pulled her 50-something-year-old body to its arthritis-riddled feet. Behind her, Zami, in a sudden burst of resolve, bolted forward and tugged madly at Heather's jacket.

"What on earth?" cried Heather.

"It's gone," gasped Zami. "The fire glyph. I couldn't hold it any longer."

"Wait," stammered Heather. "That thing- that demon's confined to the basement, right?"

"It was," replied Zami hurriedly, "while I was able to stay down in the basement to keep the glyph going."

In one terrible second, Heather realized what was about to happen.

There was a coffee table, upon which sat several ornate vases and several large-print volumes nobody had ever cared to ride, standing tall above the mat the Reddicks had, based on the pile of sandals and festering dirt that were littered around it, used to clean off their a few steps back against the glass-paneled western window in order to get a running start, Heather leapt onto the coffee table and, sending vases flying like weeds as she went before hitting her brakes just in time to avoid a collision with the red-brick hearth, pulled herself to her feet and addressed what remained of the operatives.

"LISTEN UP!" she shrieked, drawing from a well of volume she never knew she had. "Everybody needs to run. Get out. NOW."

"What are you thinking?" barked an officer. "Yyric's still out there! Taking even one single step out of this foyer without armor is a literal death sentence-"

"If you stay in here," Heather begged, "literally everybody in this room is going to get disintegrated into ash. Yyric can't possibly shoot us all."

"What the actual f*** are you blabbering on about?" cried a sergeant, one of Cain's old drinking buddies, from the back of the room. "Disintegrated into ash? What do you think this is, one of your Dungeons & Dragons campaigns?"

"Trust me," gasped Heather, "you don't want to know."

"I am sorry, Officer Waybright," spoke McCoy calmly from the back of the room, "but sending my entire platoon of officers out there into no-man's land is a risk that I'm not willing to take. Whatever it is that you're so worried about down there, I'm sure all of us can face it together." She spoke the last few words in utter confusion, unsure whether to take Heather's words seriously or merely deem her insane. All things considered, they didn't exactly sound probable… but then again, they were currently having to hide from a man that, by all accounts, seemed to be possessed by a demon."

"In Homer's The Odyssey," began Heather, "Odysseus' crew had to sail through the treacherous den of Scylla and Charybdis. Before they arrived, Circe had warned them that if they passed through Scylla's den, much of their crew would fall victim to her terrible, jagged-toothed heads- but to take the path of Charydis, the great beast inside the whirlpool, would end in the loss of the entire ship."

From the back of the room, there came impassioned cries of "Rubbish!" and "What gives? You think we're twelve, do you?"

"SILENCE!" roared McCoy, her face brimming with fury. "As much as I hate to say it, the others are right. What kind of leader would I be if I made my decision based on a millenia-old piece of Greek mythology? Unless you could find some way to, I dunno, kill Charibydis-"

"Believe me, I've tried," conceded Heather- "and Charybidis can't be killed."

"But," smiled Zami, resuming visibility once more behind her, "Scylla can."

McCoy looked at Zami skeptically. "Who the hell are you? Get out of here, kid!"

"As you can see," retorted Zami sarcastically, gesturing to the crouching Yyric, "that's not really an option right now. You still have one suit left. All of you, get behind the suit and charge Yyric. That should give enough time for this dude (she indicated Asimo, who had taken to loudly complaining about the suit's utter and complete lack of legroom) to fire that grenade launcher, which should destroy the Lieutenant's vehicle and eliminate his cover. At that point, it'll just be two dozen against one. And even the world's greatest sharpshooter couldn't possibly overcome those odds."

"Hold up now," barked McCoy, "there is no way- NO WAY that I'm about to-"

The ground shook once more.

As the light began to fade from the world around them and the terrible shrieks emanating from the below only grew louder, Zami managed to let a single, strained sound escape her lips- "Run."

BANG.

The world erupted.

The demon slammed through the door with such great force that it sent the hinges flying through the air, curving through space in an intricate arc as they withered away to dust. Almost instantly, two of McCoy's operatives pulled their phasers and set their marks directly at the demon's head- but not before the demon tore straight at them, their hollow screams fading into nothingness as something terrible exploded through their chests, leaving their impaled bodies rotting upon the foyer floor.

Heather, managing to scramble to the far door, heaved herself up against the wall and screamed "EVERYBODY RUN!"- but she didn't need ask. Around her, officers from both Cain's Yyric's and McCoy's divisions bolted for the door, hammering madly at the iron bolt as the panels swung wide and the panicked crowd flooded the gates. Choosing Scylla, after what they had just witnessed, wasn't even a question.

But Scylla himself remained. Silent, watching, as the crowd tore for him, he peeked the barrel of the pistol and scanned the crowd. Finding his mark, his mind flashed before him- and he squeezed.

And Heather didn't notice that the bullet was heading straight for her chest until it was far, far too late.

-{}-

Sitting silently in the shadows, as the winds of tomorrow and yesterday passed him by as carelessly as an autumn breeze, an Agent waited in silence.

The circles she had drawn were intricate, wrapping around her in a sort of concentric pattern.

there was a flash of light. In those dying, crucial seconds, the glare led her eyes upward as they fell upon a single object, lying, faintly glowing against the earth before her. This... trinket appeared to the Agent to be but a cap and goggles, riddled with pock-marks and dripping with sludge, a mark of decades of wear. Placing it in the center, she took a deep breath- and placed a fine golden powder, emptying the last of the flask strapped to her side, onto the runes. After all these years... the Masters had finally answered her prayers...

Almost instantly, a cocoon of light rose around her. She felt her body leave the ground, all that was below her collapsing as she was carried up, up and away- out of his world and out of reality. The faint hymns of robinsong greeted her as she floated through world after world of nothing in particular- until at last, the light subsided and she gently came to a rest upon unstable ground.

The Agent opened her eyes. She was lying in the outskirts of a marsh, composed of the tallest blades of grass she had ever had the pleasure, in all her travels, of laying her eyes upon. The stench was unmistakable- of earthen tones and rotting flesh, creeping into her nostrils like an invasive plague. A brilliant red moon shone with all the light of the sun down upon her, and dragonflies of truly marvelous size buzzed placidly to and fro above her head. It was just as the legends had foretold.

"Amphibia," the Agent sighed, taking in a glorious whiff of thick, musky air. "I have found you at last."

Once more, before you leave, I would like to thank you again for reading Disney's Realmwalkers!

I ask of you one favor before you go- even if you do not have time to write a full-length review of this or any other chapter, I would very much appreciate it if you would type a rating out of ten (4/10, 8/10 etc.) in the chat for how you would rate this episode! I am working, as more episodes come out, to develop a full-fledged, IMDB-style review system- and the more of my readers that could contribute to it, the better! Thank you so much!

With love,

LumiTea