Chapter 28

Torn Skies

Wait… did he just hear it right? It was infuriatingly faint to the point where he had definitely been unable to hear it if he hadn't stopped dead in his tracks and had rushed into the narrow hallway of the second floor, where the agonized wailing and cries emitted by the nearby tormented spirits that had been helplessly trapped in these hallways for God knows how long were sure to deafen him, but thanks to sheer luck, he had heard it during those rare seconds of silence. That was her voice out there, Darby quickly realized, calling out his name as loud as she could, followed by a brief but pained scream. She was indeed here, a few floors above him, perhaps having been there this whole damn time. Darby's eyes slightly widened as he stared to the ceiling above him, trying to control his breathing in order to slow it down, since he had been breathing in and out so rapidly and so harshly during this search that it caused his throat to grow painfully sore. He had blocked out the sheer cold that had frozen the decayed asylum to the core moments ago, his brains no longer registering the fact that his hands had gone entirely numb, even having sported a faint hue of purplish blue. By some miracle, his heart had not yet come exploding out of his chest in a red, gory mess. This better not had been one of those goddamn hallucinations, the blonde ghost hunter thought to himself. If this was another attempt from Malakai to fuck with his head to piss him off even more, then it would give him one more solid reason to tear his head off his ne-

'Darby! Help me!'

There it was again, almost just as hard to hear as the previous cry for help, but it was there nonetheless. She was up there and that bastard sure as hell was with her.

'Cora!' Darby called out as loudly as his vocal cords allowed him to, hoping that the floor and cries from the trapped ghosts wouldn't prevent her from letting her know that help was on its way, and with a burning vengeance at that. 'Hang on, I'm coming!'

Before arriving at this cellblock, he had explored everything else that the second floor of Blackthrone Asylum could still offer him after so many years despite having turned into a vast kingdom of dust and ice after 1987, and of course, it had been infested with ghosts, surprisingly all of them having remained in their Wanderer phase despite the years that had passed by; judging by their vacant stares, it was safe to assume that an unwanted and highly unethical lobotomy session had taken away the ability to feel any sort of frustration whatsoever, which in hindsight made perfect sense of why they were unable to move on, not able to feel it even in death. Most of the rooms consisted of cells where the patients had been kept in during their torturous stay, be it temporarily or permanently, but surely staying at Blackthrone Asylum for a mere three days would be more than enough to give you some seriously persistent PTSD; so persistent even that it would require you to return to the place that had inflicted it upon you to begin with in an attempt to 'cure' you. But there had been some rooms that had been standing out for sure, like the padded rooms where the more 'unruly' patients had been tossed in before the asylum's unthinkable horrors reached the public eye, tightly wrapped up in a straightjacket and left in there, surrounded by nothing else but soundproof, white padding for days on end and being damn lucky to receive any sort of food. The sole purpose of the outdated washing machines in the laundry room was to collect dust, which they had done a pretty good job at before all the dust had been covered by a visible layer of ice. Work clothing that had been left behind by the staff in the changing room, once spotlessly white and clean, had been rotting away for nearly four decades before whatever was left of them was eventually completely frozen over, never to thaw out until every single ghost that haunted this place was laid to rest. What had definitely caught Darby's attention was the office of the asylum's leading doctor, some bastard who had been mentioned plenty of times by the female patients who were able to leave this place, obviously for the worst reasons imaginable; perhaps a surviving newspaper clipping about his eventual fate could no longer be found to be put on display back at the museum in Oakheart, but not long after what truly went on behind Blackthrone Asylum's walls was revealed and knowing damn well that they were going to come after him soon enough, but rather than spending the remainder of his life behind bars, the coward blew his brains out in his own office. After whatever was left of his body had been found and the bloody mush that had painted wallpaper behind said body with a sickly combination of red and greyish pink, had been scraped off, the door to his office remained locked, which was exactly why it peaked Darby's interest, though not because of the bloody events that had taken place in there; figuring out that this door had been locked, he felt like there had been a big chance of Cora being held captive in there, and so he had knocked on the frozen wood and called out to her a few times, hoping she would reply. When quietness was his only response, he had quickly moved on.

Unlike the first floor, there was no other staircase at the same location as the one that had led Darby to the second floor, meaning that he had to explore a different area on the second floor to move onto the next one. And as far as the blonde ghost hunter knew, he had searched through the whole east wing of this floor to catch a glimpse of Cora or at least hear her crying out for help, and not once had he seen anything that resembled a staircase to the third floor, so that made it quite easy to figure out that it must be on the opposite side of this area. It just had to be, because if this building was this damn tall, there must be a way to get there, hell, there had to be a way to get up all the way to the rooftop, seeing how many patients had found it with so much ease when they felt like leaping to their deaths was their only way out. And thus, Darby found himself in front of the last unexplored hallway where even more cells could be found, one row of what had to be ten cells on each side, all of them having been locked before the place was shut down to prevent anyone who thought it was a hot idea of snooping around at night, be it for mere thrills, a burning curiosity or simply for shits and giggles, from accidently locking themselves up and possibly join the ghost parade if help wouldn't arrive within the following days. But at the same time, it had trapped the souls of those who had perished within these cells, and so they had no other choice but to wail and cry in despair until the day they would finally be released from their prison. As it turned out, many patients had passed away in the west wing of the second floor before 1987. It had been at this very moment where Cora's voice was finally heard, and despite being nearly inaudible at best, a strong hint of fright could be found in it.

The blonde ghost hunter had to channel the energy of his powers flow through his hands and aim them towards the dark hallway like some sort of makeshift flashlight (which in turn promptly revealed the skull underneath the transparent skin on the right side of his face), followed by a brief squinting of his eyes, but he could see it right there, at the very end of this cellblock; it had been hard to see at first, but the door that had been left open at the opposite side of the hallway revealed the bottom of a staircase. Finally! There was no time to waste, he knew. If he could run up those stairs as fast as he could, he could reach his traveling companion before it was too late.

'Cora! Hang on, I'm almost there! If you hear me, just keep yelling!' Darby exclaimed as loud as he could, and that's when he charged into the hallway as fast as his legs allowed him with nothing else but ice to run on. His hands continued to glow as the only source of light was the radiating energy that glowed underneath his skin, and at the same time, they revealed something that would make anybody's blood run cold. It turned out that the closest thing the locked-up ghosts in the west wing could experience to freedom was the mediocre but nonetheless chilling ability to stick their hands through their metal doors, and that was as much as they could do, only able to grasp and claw into the frozen air, as if they were trying to reach out to something, or rather, someone. A string of four-letter words that started with an 'S' escaped past Darby's lips as he tried his hardest to dodge the numerous, pale arms, some entirely bare, others wrapped in dirtied bandages, the rest clad with wide, stained sleeves that clearly belonged to a filthy pajama that had once been white, all while moving as fast as he could. Many of these hands were mere millimeters away from grabbing his black jacket before he managed to escape from their grips. Halfway the hallway, there had been some hands that had come too close to his face for his liking, which Darby with no choice but to swat them away, earning pained cries from behind the locked doors. But thankfully, after managing not to slip and land on the ice with a painful thud, Darby had made it to the end of the hallway, out of reach of the ghostly arms that continued to be stretched out as far as they could possibly get, some of the desperately waving around in one last attempt to hold onto something.

Looking around while trying to gain control over his breathing, Darby realized that he had ended up in a seemingly endless stairwell that would lead him to all the other floors of the asylum, and when he looked up, it looked like he was going to run in nothing but pure darkness that hovered many, many meters above him, and for one moment it felt like the blackness that awaited him at the very top of Blackthrone Asylum had gained a life of its own, turning it into a living, otherworldly, perhaps demonic being that couldn't possibly live in the light of day, staring down at him with tiny, invisible eyes, holding its breath and patiently waiting for its next meal that would come in the form of a blonde ghost hunter to swallow it up when he would run straight into it. But somewhere up there, in that inky darkness, was Cora, with Malakai breathing down her neck and considering when it would be the right moment to add her to his ever-expanding army of brainwashed ghost. And that's why Darby had to head in there, right the fuck now. Just before he was about to call out to her once again, her pained screams reached all the way to the bottom of this stairwell, much more audible to hear now that the wailing, howling and crying of the wandering souls in the hallway had been left behind.

'Malakai, I swear to fucking God…' the blonde ghost hunter growled. 'Cora!'

That's when his rapidly-paced footsteps began to echo hollowly throughout the entire stairwell, which surprisingly had been spared of the freezing cold the countless ghosts had spread throughout the building; sure, the air here was rather cold, but not strong enough to cover a single step or banister with a thin layer of ice. With no functioning heart to beat in his chest with the power of a jackhammer, there was only the burning sensation in his throat, but Darby wasn't planning on paying any mind to it as he made his way up each staircase as fast as he possibly could, spurred on by the occasional shriek of pain or his name being called out in the most frightened way possible coming from a voice he knew all too well, hidden away in the thick darkness above but getting clearer with each staircase that was passed. The blonde ghost hunter's sight remained fixated on the blinding shadows above him, knowing that it he was only minutes away from getting to the rooftop if he kept it up like this. This is what those patients who decided to end it once and for all must have seen as well, he couldn't help but figure. Looking into the darkness above them, feeling like their only way out was right there once they would conquer it, knowing that this one door would be there, offering them the solution to finally escape from the daily torment that had been inflicted on them on a daily basis once it would be opened. What if Malakai was forcing Cora to look over that same edge, that same edge those patients had been standing on to stare at the ground far below? Was he forcing her to stand there as well? Just the thought of it fueled the boiling rage inside Darby even more, causing him to let out a low grunt between his gritted teeth. At the same time, it fueled his stamina as well, allowing him to keep running up those stairs without needing a second to catch some cold air. It was the lavender light that emitted from his hands that pierced through the incoming darkness, driving it away with its brightness and revealing more stairs in front of him, without a single ghost, be it Wanderer or Infected to hinder him. Almost there, Darby knew when he had passed to halfway point of the stairwell that had seemed to be nightmarishly endless a few moments ago, his eyes still fixated on the inky blackness above him and more than ready to drive the rest of it away with the brightness of his energy. Don't let it be too late, fucking Christ, he would never forgive himself for the rest of his life if he would arrive too la-

His strain of thoughts was promptly cut off when liquid came pouring down from the shadows like rain in a massive storm, right into the middle of the stairwell. 'Damn!' was all Darby that managed to mutter when he stopped dead in his tracks to press his back against the wall. Raising his glowing hand to get the best look he could get, it didn't take long for the blonde ghost hunter to figure out what exactly had been raining down into the stairwell, right before the stench he had come to grow familiar with during the past few days hit his nose. As if a fire had broken out below and activated the severely outdated sprinklers that had been left in the darkness, the same black liquid that had been used to corrupt dozens of ghosts rained down into the dark abyss below. It quickly became apparent that it had reached every single sprinkler in the asylum as well, because for one, bone-chilling moment, Darby could hear it. That one collective scream, made of countless voices. Some in sadness, some in anger, all of them in fear, forming one voice that let out a long, singular, ear-deafening scream that pierced through all the walls in the building as their suffering had hit a new height, worse than they could have possibly imagined, outweighing the pain that had been caused to them years ago. Darby had been this damn lucky to have been standing underneath a flight of stairs at that moment; had he arrived in here any later and be standing at the very bottom, there could have been no way to avoid the ooze from soaking him from head to toe; without Cora's voice to pull him away from that edge, he too would have surely fallen under Malakai's control.

The ominous, grotesque scream lasted only a few seconds before a deeply unsettling silence reigned the abandoned asylum; that's when the 'rain' that had spread throughout the whole building ceased as well.

'You've gotta be fucking kidding me…' Darby breathlessly said, eyes widened and staring into the abyss below.

He had to run.

Right.

Fucking.

Now.

When he had barely made it to the top of the staircase where he had frozen in his tracks, he could hear it all, loud enough to make the asylum feel like it was trembling to its core. In the blink of an eye, metal doors that had once kept helpless ghosts inside their cells for many years had been reduced to large pieces of useless scrap metal, immediately flung through the hallways when they were brutally knocked out of their hinges. The blonde ghost hunter continued to run, knowing that his life was literally depending on this, even when he heard their cries and howls, now distorted into the most nightmarish pitch imaginable. Their volume grew as more of their twisted forms gathered to form one massive group, knowing exactly where to head off to, this idea having been planted in their corrupted heads from the moment the infection took over and wiped out whatever had been left of their mangled minds. With every passing second, they were getting louder. Closer. Way too audible for Darby's liking, getting way too close to the stairwell. In between the distorted howls and screams, loud scratching could be heard, undoubtedly coming from those who had to claw all their way to the second floor and squeeze themselves through that one narrow hallway like the pack of rabid hunting dogs they were. Keep going, was what Darby kept telling to himself, over and over again. For fuck's sake, keep going, and don't you dare to look down below! As long as he kept going, as long as he kept flying up those stairs with all the speed that he had, there was still going to be a chance that he could get to that rooftop, there was going to be that chance that he could outrun all of them. There were going to be many, way too damn many.

And Darby was immediately proven right about this when he heard the sound of a door being smashed open way down below, the sound of which immediately being drowned out by an orchestra of grotesque bellowing and wailing. They were here, drawn to him like sharks to a bleeding prey in the vast ocean. But even then, the blonde ghost hunter refused to give into the temptation to look down into the darkness, feeling like there would be no need to do this anyway; judging from the sounds of sharp nails scraping against metal and brick, the endless screaming and screeches and the dripping of black ooze, he already knew that the biggest horde of Infected Malakai had managed to create so far was making their way up the staircases, and they were only going to stop when they have gotten their elongated, malformed hands on their target or had impaled them on one of the many pairs of antlers that had replaced their eyes. That's why Darby kept on running, hard enough to skip a step or two at times, his sight glued upon the end that would hopefully be soon within his reach, unable to hear his own thoughts over the deafening orchestra of distorted wailing and trying his damn hardest to create as much distance between them as possible.

But then, after what had seemed like a horrid century of running up staircase after staircase, the blonde ghost hunter saw that there were no longer any staircases left to sprint over. It was right there, right in front of him at last; the door that would give him access to the rooftop. Yet right before he could grab onto the dusty doorknob, Darby paused. It would not have mattered if it had been locked or not, he could easily slip through it thanks to his powers. But the horde down below, the horde that was only meters away from crashing down on him… they would get through it as well, one way or another, and soon they would all spill over the rooftop.

There were too many of them.

Way too fucking many.

But there was a way. How long ago had it been since he had done this? When had been the last time he had been driven into a corner like this? Darby couldn't remember, it had been such a damn long time ago, but he was absolutely certain that he had done this before. It was the only way, he knew. It was going to cost him a good chunk of strength, but it was the best option he had. The only one. He could do this. And he could still fight Malakai after this.

Having made up his mind, the blonde ghost hunter calmly turned around and looked down into the stairwell. Just like he had imagined. A ginormous mass of corrupted ghosts, some of them having burst out of their straightjackets upon transforming, others still wearing ragged pieces of aged pajamas that had once been white, the rest stark naked with only black ooze that leaked out of their pores to cover some of their mutated bodies, filling up the entire stairwell to the point where the staircases were no longer visible. Some of them had opted to crawl over the walls in a spiderlike motion. Countless wide-open, lipless mouths, emitting sounds that would haunt anyone's dreams for years to come. Countless pairs of antlers were aiming right at him. To any normal human being, falling onto them was nothing short of a certain death sentence, but it should be noted that Darby had never been normal. Nor would he ever be. He knew what to do.

As he channeled the energy within to flow into every spot in his body, the blonde ghost hunter held his breath as he placed his foot on the railing of the last staircase, which was then followed by the other. He then carefully turned around, finding his balance with great ease and felt the energy his powers had bestowed upon him painlessly flow through his entire body, causing it to brightly glow all over with lavender, so much so even that his facial features disappeared underneath the brightness. Dozens of emaciated arms, dripping with black liquid, reached out towards him from the mass below. Darby crossed his hands in front of his chest, as if he was about to shield it from what was about to come next, closing his eyes in the meanwhile. Then he allowed himself to fall backwards, slowly breathing out through his mouth as he did this, right into the howling, ravenous mass below him.

A blinding, exploding flash of purple lit up the entire stairwell, immediately silencing everyone present.

Nothing at the bottom would have cushioned his fall after every Infected had been swept away by the impact, which was why Darby was damn lucky enough to grab a hold onto the banister of one of the staircases below before he could plummet down and be turned into a bloody paste on the cold, hard ground, tightly hanging onto it with so much strength that it paled his knuckles. Even though his skull remained partially visible, there wasn't a shimmer of purple to be found on his whole body, not anymore. Letting out a strained grunt, the blonde ghost hunter managed to pull himself up and hoist himself over the banister, landing on the steps. The air felt heavy in his lungs whilst he sat there. This had been a last resort attack; though effective, it had taken a lot out of him. A whole fucking lot. But that didn't matter to him, because he was still determined to rip Malakai's head off his shoulders.

He stood up and walked back up towards the door, his legs feeling just as heavy as his lungs, but it wasn't going to stop him. Not until Cora was safe.

'Cora… I'm here.'

The blonde ghost hunter then stepped through the door, eyes darkened with vengeance and hands clenched into tight fists. Whatever Malakai was planning on throwing at him next… he would be ready.

Despite the fact that this was a moonless night, he could still see them perfectly in the distance. Malakai must have been waiting there for him from the moment he had set foot in Blackthrone Asylum, but in the end, his patience must have finally paid off, and Darby could see that Cora was with him. A brief sense of relief was created upon realizing that she was still alive at this point, but he was swiftly overcome with a strong sense of rage once more when he saw the half dead bastard's hand having found an inescapable grip on the back of her neck while the other held onto her arm. Even though there was still plenty of distance between them, Darby could see that Cora's hands had been tied behind her back. There was nothing that could block them here on the rooftop asides from the door he had just passed through, being a completely empty, vast space of flat, cold concrete. The previous worry about Malakai standing way too close near the rooftop's edge for Darby's liking was confirmed when he saw that they were only centimeters away from it, and it would have been one damn good reason of why Cora's eyes were widened with fright, all while breathlessly whispering her companion's name with a voice that was barely audible.

'Good to see you made it, Darby.' Malakai calmly spoke. 'Looks like my suspicions have been correct after all… I knew this wench was way too important for you to abandon her.'

'You…' Darby growled at Malakai, quickly walking towards him. 'You are fucking dead…!'

Upon hearing this, the half ghost curled his mouth into a sinisterly bemused smirk, even going as far as giving the blonde ghost hunter a brief, acknowledging nod. 'Can't say I disagree with you on that. A beating heart is meaningless to someone like me.'

'Cut the shit and let Cora go, Malakai! I'm the one you were after, right?! She got nothing to do with this, so you'd better let go of her now before I will shove my fist down your throat!'

'Yes, there it is… The fire… The rage… It will bring all of that out!' Right then, it seemed like the ominously calm composure Malakai had carried himself with was slightly slipping away, for his breathing started to increase and his eyes widened with visible excitement, as if he was about to witness the greatest spectacle that could only be experienced once in a lifetime. 'Show me all of it, Darby! I want to see it all! I want to see the strength of a ghost who has died over a hundred deaths! Do not dare to hold back!' he yelled at the blonde ghost hunter.

'Let go of Cora first, you fucking psycho!'

He was going to see that power, one way or another, Malakai knew. Just so happening to have an idea in his head that would be impossible to fail, he glanced at Cora, who was barely able to stifle a gasp when his eyes, visible with regained stoicism, pierced into her soul with a coldness that proved to be way worse than the one that lingered in the entire asylum. There would be no need for her anymore; the last thing he needed was her to stand in the way of finally completing his goal… not when he was this close.

Just then, Cora felt something vanishing around her wrists.

'Your role has been fulfilled.' Malakai told her, his hands still on her neck and arm.

And before she had any chance to fight back, the half ghost used his strength that had been increased by the cursed magic that had been keeping him alive yet eating away at him like a parasite at the same time to throw her over the ledge as if she weighed nothing, making absolutely sure she wouldn't be able to hold onto it this time; a high-pitched scream that trailed off into the darkness below followed afterwards.

Everything in front of Darby Allin's eyes faded into a deep, red mist.

All he could do was let out an ear-deafening yell of blinding fury.

The fight that Malakai had wanted started off by the blonde ghost hunter charging at him with his fists glowing with such bright purple light that it would hurt anybody's eyes by looking at them. Underneath the leg of his trousers, all of the veins of the half ghost's leg had been blackened in less than three seconds, traveling all the way down to his foot as he succeeded in striking Darby square in the face before he could come close to smashing his head off with his fist alone, with a swift, roundhouse kick that was amplified by the purest of black magic, sending him flying across the rooftop and causing the concrete to crack when he landed a few feet away from the half ghost. The mist that clouded his vision felt like it was violently trembling in an unnatural way and his face had been crunched into a mask of pain, but Darby managed to sit up almost immediately after the impact. There was no way that Malakai was going to give him the opportunity to strike back though, because in the blink of an eye, he had teleported himself of front of him and jumped in the air, planting both of his feet into Darby's stomach. His eyes and mouth flew open, with droplets that consisted of a mixture of blood and saliva to spew from the latter, accompanied by a strangled scream. Before he could even gasp for air to replace the one that had been pushed out of his lungs, Malakai grabbed the blonde ghost hunter's throat with a hand that felt like it was made of iron and lifted him in the air with unsettling ease, leaving his feet dangling above the ground for a few centimeters.

'Is this all you are capable of, Darby? Even after that little bitch you cared about had been tossed from a roof?' Malakai asked. 'You have convinced me of your strength before, now stop disappointing me and show it to me aga-'

His words were promptly cut off when Darby dug his fingernails into his arms so deeply that it came close to drawing blood, wasting no time in channeling the purple energy through his hands and pumping it into the half ghost's entire body with what felt like a strong electrical surge, spreading it everywhere, causing Malakai to grunt and lose some of his strength in his arm and hand, lowering his opponent until they were on the same level again. Then the blonde ghost hunter bashed his forehead into Malakai's face with full force, striking him on his nose and teeth. Something hard was shattered with a sickening crunch. Thick drops of crimson instantly splattered onto the cracked concrete.

'Shut the fuck up already…!' Darby spat out at him.

Another blow was delivered in the form of the blonde ghost hunter's knee landing into Malakai's forehead after he had unintentionally released the person he had been after for what had felt like centuries to him and hunched over, causing him to fall backwards; now it was his turn for his vision to uncontrollably tremble. Darby wasted no time in getting on top of him as fast as he could, grabbing a hold on his bloodied and smashing the back of his head against the ground over and over again, planning to continue doing this until his brains would come out spilling through the shattered back of his skull. Had the lavender light that emitted from his hands given off any heat, a massive patch of flesh surely would have been burned on Malakai's face to the point where it would bubble with intense heat. But just when the blonde ghost hunter was about to slam his opponent's head into the ground for what had to be the tenth time, a sudden but strong sense of wooziness clouded his mind, briefly snapping him out of his rage and slowing him down. Damn it, his energy was running out, he knew. A good chunk of stamina had been eaten away by his last resort attack back at the stairwell and he remembered how he had to use up another load of energy into making Malakai release him as well. Fuck, not now, not now…

Apparently, the half ghost had sensed this weakness as well, because he quickly retaliated by launching a fist cloaked by black energy against the side of Darby's head with an astounding impact, knocking him to the side less than a meter away from him. The impact only increased the weight of the heavy feeling inside of his head; the blonde ghost hunter found himself struggling to try getting back up on his feet again, barely able to support himself on his elbows, trying his hardest to fight the sense over weakness off and feeling his ribcage painfully expand with each labored breath he took.

Because of this, he failed to notice that Malakai had managed to stand up but taking a brief moment to gaze at the blood that stained his hand after he had wiped it from underneath his nose; instead of flying into a rage, it seemed like he was… mildly impressed with it, in some strange sense.

'In the end, you did not disappoint. I knew you had it in you, Darby.' he spoke, even finding calmness in the midst of a fight. 'Not even in my previous life had anyone ever managed to inflict this much damage on me. Perfect, I'd say. You do indeed have the strength to play your role. I think the time is finally here…'

Long, numerous chains made of pitch-black ooze were then shot out of the half ghost's hands, aimed straight at his target, instantly wrapping themselves around his body when they reached him like vicious snakes, pinning his arms against his heaving chest. The sensation had been enough to make him snap out of the increased dizziness, and feeling the chains ensnaring his body tighter and tighter with each second and having reached his ankles as well, Darby instantly began struggling in an attempt to break free. But before the thought of having to use his powers crossed his mind, he was lifted off the concrete as if he were a ragdoll and swung precisely into the middle of the roof, landing on the concrete with so much force that this area too cracked upon impact… exactly where Malakai wanted him to lay down.

'D-Damn it…!' was all that Darby managed to mutter breathlessly when he slowly opened his eyes, his eyelids heavily trembling. Unable to move his severely weakened body for an inch or what came even close to that, he felt something he hadn't felt in years, only during the worst moments of his childhood; helplessness.

Pure, agonizing, helplessness.

That half dead bastard may have swung her over the edge like she was a trash bag, but that thankfully didn't mean she had immediately turned into a gory pile of blood, broken bones and mushed organs on the short staircase at Blackthrone Asylum's main entrance. It truly had been proven that this night had been dark enough for the shadows to hide the very few trees on the neglected property that had survived many years of being exposed to the elements and thrill seekers who wanted to leave their permanent mark by carving their initials or a haphazard rendition of the crappy logo from their mediocre online channel into the wood. The same tree that many patients who happened to have their cell located on the east side of the building would stare at for minutes, perhaps hours on end in either a catatonic state or while dearly holding onto the hope of ever getting out of this place, turned out to be one thing that had prevented Cora Jade to plummet to her surefire death.

She could hardly believe it herself, but holy fuck, it happened. It actually did happen. If there was one thing she would like to thank Malakai for once she would get back to that roof and burn the ever-loving fuck out of him with the biggest flamethrower her powers could produce, it would be for the fact that he had made the mistake of freeing her wrists from their bindings. Feeling the wind getting knocked out of her body by the thick branch she had landed was similar to getting struck in the stomach with a sledgehammer, but during those few seconds she had been able to quickly hold onto it with all of her might. For a split second, Cora finally came to understand how a cat trapped all the way up in a tree and be forced to wait for a good Samaritan to show up with a ladder must feel like, but she knew that going all the way down was not going to be an option. There was no time to find her way back to the rooftop by going through the whole building again. As her knees remained tightly clenched around the branch and she used her arms to support herself, Cora quickly realized that there was a way after all. A risky one, a really damn risky one, but it was better than nothing. And she'd better do it as fast as she could, because judging by the constant sounds of pained grunting, shattering impacts with the sole sound of something hard and thick cracking thrown into the mix, it was all too clear for her that Darby had wound up into the fight of his life. She had to move, now.

Dearly hoping that this branch would be sturdy enough to support her weight while holding her breath, Cora carefully scooted forward with the idea of leaping towards the boarded window right in front of her, the bottom of which had been graced with a windowsill. Would nearly four decades of neglect be enough to wear said windowsill down to the point where it would instantly break by the smallest amount of weight? Probably so, Cora knew, and that's why she was going to have to move fast even if she made it to that window. Her eyes would then be set upon the drainpipe right next to it. Given how random the following thought that went through her head was, she couldn't help but curl the corner of her mouth into a humorless, short-lived smirk; climbing up the slide pole back at the playground in Autumnfield's local park had never been a real challenge to her when she was a kid, so how difficult could a drainpipe possibly be? A rusty, aged drainpipe, sure, but it could still work. As soon as she reached the end of the branch, Cora slowly put her feet on the wood, trying to find her balance while holding onto a divergent part of the branch, telling herself to not look down under any circumstances. Her legs slightly wobbled during this, but soon enough, she did find enough balance to launch herself off towards the boarded window, which was half a meter away from her. The ghost huntress finally released her breath, which came through her mouth with a strong shudder, and that's when she went for it. For a brief moment, she could feel the cold night air brushing past her face; next thing she knew, her cheek hit something hard with a faint smell of rot, causing her to let out a soft grunt. Knowing exactly where she had landed, Cora wasted no time in hooking her fingers over the aged planks while her feet found support on the window sill. Looking to her left, she realized that she only had to make three, four steps at most, to get to that drainpipe. She wasn't going to stand there to test whether a highly neglected windowsill could be able to support the weight of a grown, young woman, and so she moved quickly across the window whilst reaching out for the long, vertical, iron tube nearby. She could have sworn she could hear something crumbling below her feet, and without thinking twice, held on as tightly as she possibly could onto the drainpipe before swinging her legs over the windowsills, clenching the iron between her knees. Now it was all a matter of brushing off the rust of the climbing skills that she had honed back the playground; hearing a loud thud that turned out to be hard enough to make concrete audibly shatter instantly spurred Cora on to climb as fast as she could. She shifted her feet in the right position, making sure not to slip away as she began to make her way up. The ghost huntress told herself to keep moving, no matter how dangerously loud the structure would creak every now and then. Darby was up there, clearly fighting for his life against that half dead bastard, and he was going to need some backup as soon as possible. That's why she kept on climbing, refusing to stop to look how far she had come or to be worried about a treacherous creak, eyes fixated on the rooftop's edge above her.

All of this had taken a few minutes at most, but at last, her fingers from both of her hands found a grip on the ledge that was strong enough to pull herself up with; but when she had hoisted her upper body over the edge, it turned out that she had arrived just on time to witness one of the final steps of Malakai's plan.

More chains created with black liquid had wrapped itself around Darby Allin's weakened body, having sprouted from the concrete to make an attempted escape next to impossible. Nonetheless, it wouldn't prevent the blonde ghost hunter from stopping to do so, even if all he could do was wiggle his severely weakened body around while his eyes wildly darted from left to right. Now that the time to set all the preparations for the ritual he had made during this day after harvesting the fresh ghosts that had manifested itself after the successfully fatal pile-up he had caused at the highway in motion had come at last, Malakai positioned his hands, barely visible underneath the swirling black energy that had manifested around them, in front of his lower body, connecting each fingertip against the opposing side and closed his eyes as he began to slowly chant in an ancient language with a loud but low voice that had once been thought to have gone lost in today's world, only spoken by pagan shamans back in the days when the Roman Empire dominated a massive part of the world with an iron fist. As soon as exactly five indecipherable words had rolled off the half ghost's tongue, rows shining with a rather unnerving shade of ochre lit up all around the incapacitated ghost hunter, connecting to form one singular, giant shape; a scratchy, strange symbol that strongly resembled that of a pentagram, although with many more lines and circles littered throughout it, a marking that only those who were familiar with everything that came with practicing black magic were all too familiar with. Darby was barely able to lift his head from the ground for a few millimeters, his eyes wide with astonishment as he found himself surrounded by the unsettling light that emitted from the massive, pagan symbol that had been edged into the concrete during daytime. Malakai's chanting didn't let up for one moment, not even when his words caused the blonde ghost hunter to lose all control over his own body, which began to violently twitch and shake uncontrollably while still being bound by the chains, the convulsions appearing to be intense enough to thicken every vein in his neck, making them visible underneath his skin. Choked-off screams, gasps and grunts were all that a wide-eyed Darby could emit, unable to fight off the magic that was painfully coursing through his body like a destructive virus. Frozen in place by sheer horror, Cora watched as shadows emerged from every single line that could be found in the symbol, coming together to form a thick layer of mist that crawled over Darby's body like a suffocating blanket, promptly silencing him. The last body part to be swallowed up by the mist was one of Darby's eyes that had remained fully widened; just before this too disappeared into the shadows, it had rolled into the back of his head.

Then, immediately after this happened, it looked like the collected shadows exploded in a giant ball of darkness, spewing out a perfectly round ring of shadows in all directions; the incoming burst of wind had almost been strong enough to send Cora back plummeting into the darkness below, but she managed to hold on and shield her face from what was coming at her by pressing it into her arms. She no longer heard any chanting coming from Malakai. What just… what happened? What did he do to him? It all happened so quickly, there was nothing she could have done to stop it, oh God! With no other strung gusts to come close to knocking her off, the ghost huntress lifted her head and looked up.

Her heart dropped to her feet in the blink of an eye.

This couldn't be.

This was impossible.

That thing should not be there, not where Darby had been lying mere moments ago.

But then… why did it look so much like him?

She recognized the tufts of platinum blonde hair on its gigantic skull. She could immediately tell that the black, ripped pieces of cloth that were draped around its tree-sized bones and fluttered in the cold air like the torn sails of a ghost ship in the night strongly resembled the jacket he had been wearing this entire day. As hard as it was to believe that this was none other Darby Allin, it was him, Cora realized as she stared at the unbelievable, horrifying sight in front of her, her face paled and lips trembling in shock, unable to look away from what she was seeing. It may have been kneeling on its knees, but the titan-sized skeleton, completely void of skin, muscles, organs, tissues or anything else, its upper body clad with black, torn fabric, that had manifested itself on the rooftop was still colossal enough for its arms that were stretched out towards the sky to touch a nearby cloud, making the bones vanish in the darkness. Its gigantic jaw slightly hung open, allowing a wide stream of glistening, black liquid to spill over its teeth and lower jaw, forming a grotesque waterfall along with the liquid that flowed out of its empty eye sockets of which the size matched the entrance of a dark, abandoned tunnel and its enormous nasal cavity, staining its skull; in a matter of seconds, giant pools of black ooze had been created on the rooftop below. That same liquid trickled down the bones of his arms, legs, ribcage and spinal cord, only adding more to the pools below. A large pulsating, purple light could be spotted in its chest, barely covered by the ripped fabric that had once been his jacket, beating with a pace that perfectly matched the calmly beating heart of a human being.

'Darby…' Cora could hear herself whisper in pure shock. 'Is… Is that really you? Oh God… no… Darby!'

Standing in the midst of the black liquid was Malakai, who clearly had to fight off the urge to grin with pure triumph, choosing to hold onto his eerily calm nature instead even at a moment like this. 'Now, Darby, ghost who has died more than a hundred deaths…' he loudly spoke as he raised his hands that were still clad in slithering shadows, promptly squeezing them into tight fists. 'Fulfill your purpose and open the gate!'

Having lost all control over himself by the magic that had turned him into this monstrous being, it looked like the absolute giant of a skeleton that had once been Darby Allin was holding onto something invisible in the night sky. Then, with an inaudible rip, the many bones that shaped his hands promptly tore it open, revealing a wide, vertical crack of blinding, white light that casted a part of it onto the surrounding clouds; even from this distance did Cora have to shield her eyes from the brightness. Was this it? Was this what Malakai had been talking about earlier? These questions were bound to be quickly answered when she saw the colossal, bony hand reached deep inside the tear in the sky, finding what it was searching for and pulling out; screams instantly echoed through the night, all of them coming from the spirits that had become trapped within the skeleton's inescapable grip. Spirits that had been lucky enough to move on upon death, blessed to continue living in an existence free from any pain or suffering beyond the gate of the afterlife, now brutally torn out of their paradise and back into the realm where they had once been forced to haunt. The towering skeleton that had been Darby moments ago, moments that felt like a horrific century by now, harshly threw the load of captured, shrieking souls into the black liquid that had pooled on the abandoned asylum's roof, hard enough to create loud splashes. Within a matter of seconds, these unfortunate spirits were plunged into a world of torment by mutating into a group of Infected, their screams abruptly stopping after the antlers had pierced through their eyes.

But just as Darby was about to scoop out a second load of souls out of the afterlife, a massive fireball knocked his hand out of the direction towards the gate; somewhere deep inside, Cora hoped that he still had the ability to forgive her for this, but this had to end. Now. Naturally, this hadn't gone unnoticed by Malakai, whose face instantly shaped itself into a mask of anger upon spotting the ghost huntress.

'What a fool I have been, not making sure you would die this time…' he hissed with a certain venom; the volume of his voice increased when he pointed at her. 'After her!'

From the very second she had fully pulled herself back onto the rooftop, Cora Jade had to give it her all. Despite having only mutated moments ago, the group of Infected that consisted of ten corrupted ghosts at most, blindly obeyed this command and charged towards the ghost huntress with a newfound bloodthirst, all of them emitting an unnervingly warped, ear-piercing screech as they got closer to her. Chances were that this was going to hurt like hell… but what other choice did she have? The make-shift, bloodied bandage that had been wrapped around her injured hand since this morning was swiftly burned into nothingness when a cloud of flames burst through the palm of her hand, just like the other one. Combining the two of them, Cora formed the biggest flamethrower she had been able to produce up until now, swinging it from left to right with the intent to strike each and every one of them. The flames were definitely hot and strong enough to knock them straight to the ground, but only one Infected had managed to dodge the incoming blaze, lunging itself at the ghost huntress with its elongated, claw-like hands aimed right at her. As a response, Cora clenched her hand into a fist and shoved it into the corrupted ghost's wide-open maw, immediately releasing a stream of flames down its throat; now with its insides turned into a scorched, bubbling mess, this ghost joined the others into becoming a layer of thin, black mist to be swept away by the wind.

But by now means did this mean that there were any others to fight of, for it turned out that this was all the time the gigantic skeleton that had once been Darby needed to retrieve a second load of screaming spirits from the opened gate and directly turning them into Malakai's ferocious puppets as well. This time, Cora made sure to surround herself with fireballs that could detect an incoming attack while she continued to launch flamethrower after flamethrower at some of her attackers; the ones who weren't touched by these flames were soon met by the detecting fireballs, some of them needing to be struck by multiple of them before being defeated. Cold sweat trickled down Cora's face as she pressed on with Infected after Infected coming straight at her, all of them part of a new group that was literally pulled into this realm by Darby, unsure of how much longer her body could take this strain, but knowing damn well that it would be the end of her if she would dare to stop, and she sure as hell wasn't going to let these mutated ghosts run off into the world to unleash their murderous rage upon the living and give Malakai what he wanted.

Then, when she briefly looked up after having miraculously fought off another wave, she saw it. It was rather faint, but she could easily tell what it was. That purple glow inside the colossal skeleton's hollow chest barely managed to cover it, but it was hiding something inside of it. During those very few seconds she had to breathe, Cora could see the blurry frame of what appeared to be a human being that definitely had to be a young male, floating in the lavender hue as if he were trapped in a body of water, completely stripped of any control he had over his new appearance. It appeared with every 'heartbeat', barely hidden by the large, fluttering pieces of torn fabric that partially covered the chest.

The ghost huntress's eyes briefly widened of who exactly that humanoid figure reminded her of.

'Darby… Are you in there?' she breathlessly whispered.

She decided to go for it.

'Hang on, I'm on my way!'

Perhaps it was the adrenaline that had been rushing through her veins with an ungodly strength, the burning determination of saving the young man who had made a difference in her life in the best way imaginable or most likely a combination of both, but Cora didn't think about wasting any further time when she ran towards the towering skeleton as fast as her legs allowed her to, but not before swiftly creating a ring of floating fireballs all around her. As soon as she got at the biggest kneecap she had ever seen, she began using the bones to climb her way up there, but when she was standing right on top of said kneecap, it turned out there was a much easier way to get to the light in the chest, though it didn't mean it was entirely free of any risk. With one jump, she was able to hold onto one of the many ripped pieces of black fabric and pull herself up, hanging onto it with such force that her knuckles paled. And they remained pale as she climbed all the way up there, like a woman who sought to write history by climbing the world's most dangerous mountain with her bare hands, occasionally letting out a grunt when the effort forced her to. A cold wind brushed past her face with such viciousness that it made her ears hurt and for a split second she was this close from slipping away from the fabric, but nonetheless, she managed to keep on climbing, every now and then switching from cloth to bone, and vice versa. There had been a good reason of why she chose to have floating fireballs nearby, though. No way in hell would Malakai ever allow her to get all the way up there to his creation's chest, where the source of its life was located, and this assumption was proven right when Cora saw a few Infected leaping towards her with such immense strength in their legs that they could reach incredible heights; needless to say, her movement-detecting fireballs made quick work of the mutated ghosts who got a little too close to her for her liking.

'Just a bit more…' the ghost huntress kept repeating to herself as her sight was fixated on the purple hue below the row of large, thick ribs that were stained with black liquid. 'I'm almost there Darby, just hang in there a little longer! I'm getting you out of there, I swear!'

One last Infected was flung down to the concrete below by one of her fireballs like a fly being swatted out of the air when she finally reached the chest, the pulsating light within now so bright that it nearly hurt her eyes. Her throat was raw from pain, she was breathing that heavily, but she had made it. Having found her footing in a gap between to ribs, Cora could think of only way to get Darby, or at least, what she assumed to be Darby that was trapped right there underneath these bones, and there was no way her powers could fail her now. Letting all the energy she had in her body flow towards her hands, it was only a matter of seconds before they were engulfed with brightly burning flames, her skin entirely unaffected by the heat. It was now or never, she knew. She was going to save him, one way or another! And thus, Cora let out a loud scream as she burrowed her flaming hands into the bone, feeling it crack upon impact. Her muscles tensed up as she put all her strength into prying open an opening into the bone that began to color black due to the intense heat, and though it did crack, it refused to budge despite everything she put into it. The ghost huntress refused to let go however, holding onto whatever strength she had to try widening the opening, digging deep within herself to find more strength. It then appeared that the skeleton's body was somehow trying to fight back with some degree of regenerating powers; even though the flames that had covered her hands were bright, Cora could see that the bone that had been cracked and broken slowly healing up, getting close to fully closing up the opening she had managed to create so far.

'Oh… no… you don't!'

Right on that instance, something within Cora Jade was unleased as she furiously shouted these words, causing the flames that had swallowed up her hands to not only increase in size, but also adopt a blue hue, instantly replacing the orange glow that had been cast upon her surroundings with sky blue. Had this happened at another time, she sure as hell would have been astounded by all of this, but now was not the right moment to do so. She didn't notice it herself, but the newfound strength had also created blue flames inside of her that were small enough to painlessly escape through the numerous scars on her body, all without scorching one piece of her clothing. Letting out one more scream, she poured the new, added amount of strength into her arms, hearing something loudly shatter right after she did this. All of the bone that had been in front of her had been broken into pieces of variable sizes, all of the shards sent falling down into the depths below.

The blue flames shrunk and retreated back into her body when Cora stared at the purple light in front of her, heavily panting and several strings of hair sticking to her face. Another 'heartbeat' was made just then, allowing her to see the humanoid frame she had seen earlier from up close. She was absolutely certain of it. It had to be him. This had to be his original body, trapped in there with no control over the abomination that had been brought to life by Malakai. Holding her breath, the ghost huntress leaned forward, feeling a slight, tingling sensation against her prickling skin as she did so, but not feeling a true sense of pain.

She was right. It had been Darby in there, all along, weightlessly floating in that purple light with his eyes closed and his chest raising up and down at a slow but steady pace, as if he had been caught up in a deep, dreamless sleep. It was quite remarkable about how… peaceful he looked, in a strange sense. But that's what brought a huge sense of relief to Cora. Nothing indicated that he was in unimaginable pain.

'Darby…' she said with a soft, comforting voice, leaning forward even more to grab him, wrapping her arms around his upper body as she pulled him towards her. It was the sensation of holding his body against hers that developed a strange, warm, but otherwise pleasant feeling in her chest, which in turn made her curl her mouth into a small but serene smile. 'It's okay… I got you now. You're safe.'

Everything around them began to violently tremble when Cora carefully pulled Darby Allin back into the outside world now that the titan-sized skeleton had lost its main source of life, which made him lifelessly hunch over.

By the time Darby had let out his first soft groan and his eyelids twitched after Cora had safely landed on the ground with him in his arms, every bone that had formed its frame was crumbled into piles of fine, off-white dust on the rooftop with specks of black.