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The chilling atmosphere weighed heavily on us as we watched Jezreel disappear into the well. Monstrous arms emerged from the abyss, limbs that defied nature, a composite of rock, root, and shadow. They wrapped around him, dragging him downward into an oblivion so dark it seemed to absorb light. His scream—piercing, guttural—echoed, then abruptly stopped.
Silence fell, and a shiver ran down my spine as if the very air had been cleansed of his malevolence.
My gaze found Alex, who seemed to shake off the fog of what he'd been through. His eyes, usually so confident and grounded, were dazed but clearing. They met mine, and a powerful, inexplicable connection pulsed between us. I wished that connection meant more, wished that he saw me the way I was struggling not to see him. His chiseled features, his stormy eyes—they were a gravitational pull I was determined to resist. But not in this instant. In this instant, we were everything to each other.
I sprang forward, my arms enveloping him, as if I could absorb the residual terror from his body into mine. His arms returned the embrace, and we clung to each other with the desperation of survivors.
Emily and Ben joined us, creating a huddle of human warmth and solace, a pocket of safety. But Lolo was absent, her enigmatic figure dissolved into the wilderness beyond.
My tears wouldn't stop. They tumbled down my cheeks, hot, and unstoppable. The lump in my throat tightened further when Alex whispered, "Clara, it’s okay. He's gone. Truly gone this time."
Holding back a sob, I mumbled into his shirt, "I was terrified. Terrified for all of us." For that brief moment, we clung to one another, a refuge from the reality that had almost swallowed us whole.
Breaking the embrace, Alex turned his attention to the arriving vehicle.
The fire truck roared into the clearing, its siren slicing through the delicate silence we had crafted. Flashing lights painted us all in shades of urgent red and blue, and uniformed firefighters scrambled out with a look of grim determination tinged with confusion. They unrolled hoses to address the smoldering remains of what had been a ghastly evening.
As they glanced toward the burning tree, their faces shifted to bewilderment, like they had stumbled onto a scene from a world they weren't supposed to understand.
I had painted this scene—the fire truck, their confused faces, everything except Lolo’s existence. A chill crept up my spine. Had I predicted this, or had I summoned it into reality?
"I should talk to them," Alex said, his voice heavy with responsibility. "This is my property, they’ll want answers. No one saw anything. We’ll say it was a lightning strike."
I nodded, wiping away lingering tears with the back of my hand. "Okay." Emily wrapped her arm around my waist in a comforting hold, her eyes meeting mine with unspoken understanding.
Watching Alex walk away, a sense of burden washed over me. Lolo had vanished, as silently and mysteriously as she had appeared. I felt an odd cocktail of thankfulness and trepidation. Who was she, what was she, and what had she sacrificed to save us?
Emily looked puzzled when I whispered, "Where’s Lolo?" Ben's eyes were rimmed red; the pain was evident. I wished I could love him, but my heart seemed perpetually hostage to a man who didn’t love me in return.
Ben turned his head, looking wounded, avoiding my gaze. "I’ve tried reaching out, Clara. But Lolo's... different. Not fully human, not anymore. I can't connect."
"It's okay, Ben," Dr. Emily reassured him, patting his arm, "you tried. Let's stick together and let Alex handle this. Remember, none of us saw anything.”
Questions churned within me as we joined the growing crowd of onlookers, firemen, and eventually, police officers. We would have to navigate this web of aftermath, the lingering mysteries, and the haunting recollections.
But right here, right now, the relief of survival hung around me like a comforting shawl.
A half hour later I was finally back home, my canvas and paints waiting for me like old friends I'd left behind. The statement I gave to the police was vague, cloaked in the kind of ambiguity that they would find frustrating, but not suspicious.
After all, how could I explain the unexplainable?
My eyes caught the painting that had foretold so much of what had happened. Except for Lolo. The canvas seemed incomplete without her. And so did I, in a way.
Ben had left without saying a word. I felt a pang of guilt; I didn’t like the idea of causing anyone pain. But, deep down, I knew I had to be true to myself. My heart had always been a compass, and ignoring its direction wouldn't make anyone happy.
There were so many questions still unanswered. The name Ann Munney circled in my mind. Was she a past life or an ancestor? Did the connection with Alex mean we were doomed, or that we were meant to be?
I sighed, pushing those thoughts to the back of my mind. Some answers, I realized, could only be found within the soul, and my soul spoke best through art.
I picked up my brush, squeezed out fresh paint, and began to work on the empty corner of the canvas. My hand seemed to move on its own, guided by a force beyond my understanding. Fur and fang materialized into flesh and bone; Lolo, in her human form, emerged on my canvas. I was lost in the swirls of color and form, the strokes, a dance, a lament, and a thank-you note all rolled into one.
As I stepped back to look at the finished work, my eyes met the painted eyes of Lolo. In that gaze, I felt strength, courage, and a mysterious kind of freedom. Maybe she was somewhere out there, in the deep woods or another realm entirely, but here she was immortalized, a part of my story and a part of me.
"Thanks, Lolo," I whispered to the painting. "Thanks for everything."
And for a fleeting moment, it felt like the painting whispered back, a soft echo in the room, a gentle wind through the trees of my soul.
I wasn’t sure what the future held for Alex, Ben, Dr. Emily, or even myself, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. We were the Supernatural Support Group, in a more real way than I could ever imagine.
We were alive. We were together, at least in spirit. And that, for now, was enough.
