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All of them trying to crawl back into the world at once.

Ezra pulls his knife.

Rhett reaches for the old Reaper blade.

Beside them, Malakai flexes his fingers as black soil crawls over his hands.

I stare at all three of them.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Rhett looks from the blade in his hand to the nightmare dragging itself out of the ground.

“Seemed obvious.”

“You can’t stab that.”

“I can stab anything.”

“Rhett.”

“Fine. I can attempt to stab anything.”

Another pair of hands slams into the ground.

The creature drags itself higher.

A hundred mouths split open across its body, and their screams crash together hard enough to vibrate through my bones.

Ezra steps forward.

Malakai moves with him.

Rhett tightens his grip on the blade.

“Stop.”

None of them listen.

Of course they fucking don’t.

They keep walking.

“STOP.”

The word tears out of me.

The ground bucks.

All three men freeze.

Not hesitate.

Not stop because I yelled louder.

Freeze.

Ezra’s foot hangs inches above the ground. Rhett’s blade stops halfway up. Malakai’s fingers remain curled toward the soil.