The air around them remained heavy with residual energy as Trench led the way toward the Control Point. Emily stumbled, her limbs still weak from whatever force had held her in its grip. Darling stayed close, scanning her face for any lingering traces of the possession. Her eyes were back to normal, but something in them looked distant—like she was hearing something they couldn't.

"Emily," Darling said gently. "Are you with us?"

She blinked rapidly, shaking her head as though trying to clear it. "I… I think so. It's like… something is still whispering."

Trench shot a glance at Darling. "Residual contact?"

Darling frowned. "Possibly. But we can't rule out that whatever it was might still have a tether to her."

Emily exhaled shakily. "It—it wanted me to stay. It didn't want me to leave."

The Control Point shimmered ahead, but as they neared it, the surroundings darkened. The usual stark white of the Astral Plane dimmed, the floating structures twisting unnaturally. The air turned dense, pressing against their chests.

Then, the whispers grew louder.

Not just around them—inside them.

Trench reached for his weapon instinctively. Darling hissed through his teeth, clutching his temples. Emily stiffened, her breath catching in her throat.

"Do you hear that?" she whispered. "It's… it's saying something new."

Darling forced himself to focus, listening past the static. The voices were overlapping, an unintelligible chorus of layered speech. But one word began to stand out, repeating with growing intensity.

"Director."

Trench stiffened. His grip on his gun tightened. "That's impossible."

The whispers surged, the structures around them cracking under the strain of the sound. Emily clutched her head, eyes squeezing shut. "It knows you, Trench. It—"

The ground beneath them ruptured, a massive fissure splitting through the floating expanse. From its depths, a figure emerged.

It was humanoid in shape, but utterly wrong. Its form shimmered between solid and incorporeal, draped in a void-like darkness that absorbed the faint light of the Plane. Its head tilted unnaturally, and as it stepped forward, the whispers crescendoed.

Trench raised his weapon. "Emily, Darling—get behind me."

The figure stopped mere feet away, its presence radiating an unearthly pressure. When it spoke, its voice was both singular and layered, reverberating through the very fabric of the Plane.

"You do not belong here."

Darling swallowed hard. "I don't think it means Emily this time."

Trench's jaw clenched. "Then let's make this quick."

The entity moved first.

A wave of force exploded outward, and the battle began.