Chapter 10 – The Mark of Samael


Harry and Cybil continued running as fast as their legs could carry them. The hospital continued shifting and warping around them in all the worst possible ways. They had just left Lisa Garland behind them, and her fear and confusion still weighed inside Harry's mind. He wanted to stay, of course, to help her, but they didn't have time. Hopefully, she would be safe inside the room.

"We just have to find Cheryl," Harry muttered, to himself as much as Cybil.

The two of them were done with the hospital. There was nothing more for them to find here. They walked out in silence, back to the fog-covered streets of Silent Hill. The town continued shifting this way and that in ways they found impossible to tell apart. Old familiar landmarks disappeared and then reappeared in the fog.

"You notice how the town keeps changing?" Cybil asked. 'It's like we're walking in circles, but nothing is the same."

"Yeah…" Harry replied, frowning. "It's not just the monsters. It's like the whole town-"

He drew to a halt, his breath caught in his throat. Further down the road, through the mist, there in the ground was a great, complex symbol. Strange and unknown to him, it was made up of interlocking lines and spirals. It reached out in dark power, sending a shiver down his spine. Harry had not seen anything like it before.

"What the hell is that?" Cybil said, her tone sharp. She took a step closer to the symbol.

"I don't know," Harry muttered, following her. "But it feels important… somehow."

The symbol hummed with energy, the air seeming to thicken around it, as though they were walking into the heart of something ancient and malevolent. Cybil knelt beside the marking, tracing her fingers along the edge of it.

"This thing… it's not graffiti or some weird art project," Cybil muttered. "It feels old. Like, old."

Harry stared at the symbol, unease settling deeper into his chest. There was something about it, like something that felt familiar. It was as if he had seen it before, in some dream or perhaps a nightmare. But he couldn't quite place where or even when.

Suddenly, a low rumble shook the ground beneath them. For a few moments, the symbol pulsed with a faint light, casting an eerie crimson glow through the fog.

"We have to go," Cybil said, standing in one quick motion. "Whatever that is, it's not good."

Harry nodded, yet he couldn't help not to turn his eyes away from the symbol. Something about it drew him in, something he couldn't understand. But Cheryl was still out there, and whatever was happening here in Silent Hill, he knew he had to keep moving.

As they turned to leave, Harry turned back one last time to the symbol. He didn't know what it meant yet, but he could not get rid of the feeling that it was something far more dangerous than either of them could ever imagine.

"Where do we go from here?" Cybil asked. "We can't just keep wandering around. There has to be some sort of lead, somebody who knows what's going on."

Harry nodded but didn't respond immediately. His head was still full of questions, none of them with any real answers, anyway. Dahlia Gillespie had made some kind of cryptic remark earlier about some sort of ritual and how the darkness was going to consume the town. He hadn't been able to make much sense at the time. Now, after seeing that weird sign in the dirt, he couldn't shake the feeling it was all somehow connected.

"Then we have to find Dahlia again," Harry said grimly. "She knows more than she's telling. She was talking about the town being consumed… something about darkness."

Cybil turned to him. "You think she's behind this?"

"I don't know," Harry said. "But she's involved somehow. And I think finding her again is the only way we'll get any answers."

The two of them continued onwards back to the Church. Now and then, the creaking groan in the distance would make them both stop, yet nothing would appear, yet.

As they journeyed, Harry couldn't help but think about Cheryl. He had no idea where she was, or if she was even safe. But the longer they stayed in Silent Hill, the more he feared that something terrible was happening to her. The memory of that symbol carved into the ground was gnawing at him. Was it part of whatever had taken Cheryl from him? Was she somehow tied to the town's transformation?

"No that wasn't possible." Harry thought to himself.

They turned a corner and found themselves at Balkan Church, its crooked steeple barely visible through the thick mist.

"There it is," Cybil said, stopping for a moment to glance up at the building. "You think Dahlia's still there?"

"She has to be," Harry said, "She knows something. If we can just get her to talk…"

They moved towards the doors of the church and pushed them open. Harry's heart pounded in his chest as they stepped inside, the echo of their footsteps was the only sound against the vastness of the space. Harry's eyes swept across, looking for any sign that Dahlia was still there. There was no movement to be seen and no clue that anyone had recently been there.

"Dahlia!" Harry called out loud.

There was a faint rustling at the rear of the church, near the altar. Cybil gestured to Harry for quiet, and she pulled out her gun, edging closer to the sound.

Then, a figure stepped out of the darkness, Dahlia Gillespie.

She moved slowly, almost gliding across the floor, her expression unreadable. Her eyes were fixed on Harry and Cybil as if she'd been waiting for them all along.

"You've come back," Dahlia said, her voice calm. "Just as I knew you would."

Harry stepped forward. "Where's Cheryl? What's happening to this town?" he demanded

The smile that spread over Dahlia's face never reached her eyes. "The town prepares as it must. The darkness spreads, Harry. We can't stop it. Soon the world will know the truth."

Cybil's eyes narrowed. "What truth? What are you talking about?"

Dahlia motioned to the altar where, under a weird, twisted symbol carved into the stone, a soft glow pulsed. It was similar to the one they'd seen on the street, yet much larger, and more intricate. "The Mark of Samael," she whispered. "It must be completed."

"The mark?" Harry asked. "What does it have to do with Cheryl?

Dahlia leaned in closer, her eyes shining now with an almost manic intensity. "Your daughter, Harry… she is part of this. And when the time comes, you shall see."

Harry's blood chilled. "What are you saying? What does Cheryl have to do with any of this?"

But Dahlia merely smiled. "The ritual has begun," she breathed. "And soon, the god will be born.

Harry's mind reeled with the weight of her words, Cheryl, his little girl, was somehow connected to all this madness. The town, the darkness, and the strange symbols, all connected with her. How? Why?

No sooner had she said this than the ground under them shook. The faint glow coming from the symbol on the altar suddenly flared brighter.

"We have to get out of here," Cybil said. "Now."

But Harry couldn't move. His mind was spinning, his heart pounding in his chest. Cheryl was out there still, lost, in danger, and somehow she was connected to the horror.

Dahlia's words were still ringing in his ears when the world around them seemed to bend. "The time is near, Harry. You cannot stop what is coming."

"Let's go," Cybil said, pulling him toward the door.

And with one last glance at Dahlia, Harry turned and followed Cybil, knowing that the answers he wanted were still waiting somewhere in the twisted depths of Silent Hill.

Harry ran from that church with thousands of questions running around his head, but there was one, how sinister the influence of Dahlia Gillespie seemed. The sound of her words kept echoing in his head, mentioning dark rituals, the attachment of Cheryl to the darkness of the town, and a god yet to be born. Every step he took felt like one deeper into Dahlia's web, even as Cybil's skepticism grew sharper.

Harry couldn't help but think about Dahlia, the strange influence she had exerted over him, with her ranting and ravings contradictory, yet somehow he instinctively wanted to trust her despite better judgment.

"She's manipulating you, Harry," Cybil said, her voice with frustration. "Can't you see it? She's playing with your mind, twisting everything to her advantage."

He had no way to explain the tug Dahlia had on him, the way her words rang in his ears however much every logical part of him screamed that she was not to be believed. It was maybe because she was the only one explaining any kind.

"She knows something about Cheryl," Harry whispered. "I can't just ignore that. If there's any chance she can lead me to her, I have to take it."

Cybil shook her head. "You're falling into her trap, Harry. She's feeding you just enough to keep you hooked. But whatever she's planning, it's not about helping you, Harry. It's about her. I don't trust her and neither should you."

But already Harry was thinking about the possibilities. Dahlia had mentioned the "Mark of Samael," something ancient and powerful with the town's transformation. He couldn't rid himself of the feeling that Cheryl was caught up in whatever dark ritual was underway. What if following Dahlia was the only way to save her?

"We need a plan then," Cybil said, keeping her voice low as they stopped, trying to collect themselves. "Wandering around town blind is only going to get us killed, or worse."

Harry nodded, but his mind was already drifting somewhere else. He kept replaying Dahlia's words, trying to piece together the meaning behind them. The Mark of Samael. The ritual. And Cheryl…

"Dahlia said something about the town being consumed," Harry told himself, "About a god being born. What does this have to do with Cheryl? What if finding that mark is how you can stop it?"

Cybil's eyes flashed at him. "That's exactly what she wants you to think. Can't you see? She's pulling you deeper into this. The more you listen to her, the more she controls you."

Harry shook his head. "It's not about trust, Cybil. It's about finding Cheryl. Suppose she knows where my daughter is, even if she's part of this. I can't just ignore it.

Cybil let out a tired sigh, and then she rubbed her temples, trying to remain calm. "I understand, Harry. I think you would like to feel she is telling the truth. But there is something about her that is just not right. She's holding back on something. What I am trying to say is, we do not cut her off entirely, but at the same time, we can't take her at face value."

The sound of steps from the darkness cut off Harry before he could respond. The mist revealed another figure, twisted, unnatural, its body distorting with each movement it made in their direction. Cybil raised her gun, ready to fire.

"We can argue about this later," she said in a cold voice. "Right now, we need to stay alive."

The creature drew nearer, its body beyond recognizable as something once human. For a second, Harry forgot about Dahlia and Cheryl as his mind centered on this new danger. Cybil fired a shot, the bullet whizzed in the air of the deserted street, but the creature just kept on coming.

It suddenly lunged forward, its clawed hands swiping through the air with a terrifying swiftness. Cybil rolled out of the way, coming up in a crouch, and fired two more shots into its torso. Harry fired his gun, striking the creature on the head. It staggered for a bit but did not fall.

"Keep hitting it!" Cybil yelled, pumping the rest of her clip into the thing's chest.

Giving one last panicked trigger, Harry fired once more, smashing the thing's skull flat. It slumped to the ground, hitting it with that same repulsive sound of wet slopping. The air reeked of blood and rot.

Panting, Harry wiped the sweat from his brow as his heart was still racing. Cybil reloaded her gun and gave him a hard stare.

"We're not going to make it if we keep getting distracted," she said. "I know you want to believe Dahlia's going to help, but we can't trust her. We need to stay focused on finding Cheryl, not chasing after some cryptic bullshit."

Harry nodded. He knew Cybil was right, Dahlia was dangerous and manipulative. Yet there was something in her madness, something that might lead him to Cheryl. If he was careful, he would not let her take him into the darkness.

And so they pressed farther down the street, a growing sense in Harry's stomach that Dahlia's influence over him was far from over, and much more a danger to him than any of these creatures lurking in the dark.

But despite Cybil's warnings, Harry just couldn't shake Dahlia from his mind, her words troubled him. His desperation to find Cheryl had turned him into something he hadn't anticipated, a man ready to believe anything, even the ramblings of a mad woman. But if there was even the slightest chance that she knew where Cheryl was, he had to follow that lead.

"We should head toward the amusement park," Cybil suggested. "If this town is shifting as it seems, then we'll need to keep an eye on any major landmarks."

Cybil turned to Harry. "You're drifting again, Harry. I need you here, not lost in your head."

Harry jerked out of his thoughts, shaking his head. "I'm fine," he lied. "It's just, I keep thinking about what Dahlia said. The way she talks, it's like, and she knows things. Things about Cheryl, things about this town."

Cybil's face hardened. "She's using your fear against you. Don't let her get into your head. Trust me, Harry. The more you let her control your thoughts, the more she'll take you further from what matters, finding your daughter."

Harry desperately wanted to believe her. Cybil was grounded, and rational, and she'd been right more than once since they met. Still, there was a feeling that Dahlia was onto something, that her warnings, however manipulative, really held some sort of twisted version of the truth.

Before Harry could say anything, there was a sudden trembling on the ground. A low rumble as cracks appeared in the pavement and a strange, unearthly glow emanated. His heartbeat sounded faster as Harry recognized the symbol, another mark, like the one they had come across, now carved into the ground, pulsating with unnatural energy.

Cybil swore under her breath, clenching her fist as if to ward it off. "Another one of those things?"

Harry's stomach flipped. The mark. It had to be related to Dahlia's ritual. Harry hunched down, staring at the complex lines and spirals of the symbol, the way it hummed with power as though it were alive.

"This is what she was talking about," Harry whispered, more to himself than to Cybil. "The mark.

Cybil's hand clutched her gun tightly as she stood beside him. "Whatever it is, it's not good. We need to move."

But Harry was entranced. The mark seemed to be pulling him in, the glow intensifying as if it responded to his presence. His mind buzzed with the fragments from Dahlia's warnings. The ritual… Cheryl… the god…

"I need to understand this," Harry muttered.

Cybil clutched his arm, her words sharp: "Harry, snap out of it! This town's trying to suck you into it. You can't let it. We got to keep moving if we're going to find Cheryl."

Her words cut through his haze and he shook his head, standing quickly. "You're right," he said

As they began to retreat from the glowing symbol, the fog around them started to writhe and pulse, thickening further, and the shadows danced, contorting into grotesque shapes. A low growl echoed from the darkness, growing louder with every second.

"Harry…" Cybil's voice strained.

Harry's mind was again in turmoil from the force of Dahlia's cryptic promises. The mark, the creatures, Cheryl. All of that was somehow connected, but he didn't know how. And again, he couldn't get rid of the feeling that Dahlia's influence was only growing, and with every step they took, Harry was being pulled further into the depths of her plans.

They had no choice but to keep going, but Harry couldn't help but wonder how much longer he was going to be able to resist Dahlia's ever-tightening control and what would happen when he could not fight it anymore.