---

  *"He is the Shadow Devil—the one whose end I shall write with my own hands. And then... I will bring Rose back to life. Isn't that what you wanted, O Hunter of Darkness?"*

  Gabriel trembled in horror: *"Why do you keep calling me that?"*

  The God of Fear whispered:

  *"I will leave you to discover that for yourself, O mortal."*

  Then the fleshy winds began to howl.

  The white dimension dissolved, peeled away by the gales, revealing the grotesque landscape beneath—a hell of pulsating flesh. The sky returned, a bleeding red moon rising among the stars as mountains of skin loomed in the distance.

  Gabriel sat before the cosmos on the frozen ground, his true curse now unraveling. He slumped, indifferent, head bowed, staring hopelessly at the fleshy sea. With one finger, he drew a pentagram in the snow.

  Tears fell from his eyes onto the fleshy lake—tears so cold they froze the very air, though even the frost could not extinguish the black fire now burning in his heart.

  ---

  He forced himself to stand and trudged through the snowstorm, the aurora illuminating the island as always. He ventured beyond the fleshy lake, beyond the Witches' House, until a thick green mist coalesced before him.

  Then, slowly, it parted.

  There she stood—the other girl, the one imprisoned by the God of Fear.

  Her skin was pallid, as if painted white. Her green eyes had elongated, slit pupils—predatory, sharp. Beautiful. Terrifying. Her pale yellow hair, loose and tangled, whipped in the wind. Her bone-white face was splattered with blood. Her arms were bound in plaster casts, and around her neck coiled the giant red serpent, its belly streaked with blood, venom dripping from its fangs like acid, melting the snow where it fell.

  She stared at Gabriel with unwavering intensity, her gaze so severe it made him tense. He glared at the horizon and demanded:

  *"Who are you, girl? How did you get here? Where is your mother?"*

  She did not answer.

  For half an hour, she stood motionless, staring at him with pure, seething rage. The wind howled, threatening to tear them both apart. The serpent's venom sizzled against the ice.

  Gabriel's patience shattered. He roared:

  *"Who the hell are you, little girl?!"*

  Then—she mimicked the serpent's hiss.

  And when she spoke, her voice was *not human*. It was the sound of creatures unrecorded in religion or folklore—a voice that could drive listeners to madness:

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  *"You know exactly who I am."*

  Then, like mist, she faded—her form dissolving, her presence thinning until she was nothing but a whisper in the wind.

  As if she had never been seen.

  As if she had never spoken at all.

  ---

  The Cosmic Owl

  Gabriel exhaled in relief as the eerie girl vanished, as if a weight had lifted from his chest—yet his body still trembled, heavy with dread. Fear of the unknown. What now awaited him in this cursed, fleshy realm that had birthed itself from the void?

  He trudged forward, each step a mournful creak against the ice, like the groan of a corpse slowly collapsing in its grave. Snow fell in unnatural spirals, as though sketching indecipherable sigils in the air, while the wind lashed his face like dead flesh—slapping, caressing, *recognizing* him. This was no ordinary ice. It was *alive*. Watching. Breathing beneath him.

  Then the thick fog began to recede.

  Slowly...

  As if something didn't want to be seen... yet chose to reveal itself.

  There, in the depths of the haze, the vision unfolded.

  Gabriel froze.

  He could no longer move. His breath turned to stone. His pupils dilated as if the universe had vomited forth a sight no mortal should ever witness.

  Before him stood an *entity*.

  An immense bird... yet not a bird.

  A thing with the semblance of an owl, but an owl from *before time*. From a dimension without names. Its body was cloaked in gray-blue feathers, the color of a tomb woven from plumage. It had *four faces* fused together in a grotesque symmetry, four twisted beaks, and seven eyes —all a dark, hollow blue, swirling with coiled symbols that might have been writing... or screaming.

  Behind it hovered *two suns*—not true suns, but manifestations of madness given geometric form. Jagged golden rays erupted from the twin discs, their light not illuminating, but mimicking the glow of nightmares.

  On the entity's chest pulsed a sigil—

  A multi-headed star, each point branching into tangled lines that interlaced like inverted cosmic laws. It throbbed with a faint glow, like the dying pulse of a creature that refused to believe it was dead.

  Beneath the entity, upon the fleshy gray earth, stood rows of figures. Not human. Skeletal forms draped in black robes, their upturned skulls chanting silent hymns to the owl-god. Golden spirals rose from their heads like smoke from a sealed hell.

  And on the ground, a golden symbol was carved—

  A cross, yet *wrong*. Alien. Belonging to no known culture. As if the universe itself had bowed before it.

  Gabriel did not move.

  He *knew* it.

  He *felt* it.

  Before him stood the Cosmic Owl.

  The wind stilled.

  The frost knelt.

  Time shattered

  ---

  Gabriel's Whisper

  Gabriel murmured through trembling lips:

  "This is no creature... This is the mirror of fear in the eyes of gods."

  Then his knees buckled, striking the frozen ground with a hollow thud. Tears streamed down his face—only to freeze upon his cheeks, crystallizing his despair into icy scars.

  ---

  ---

  Gabriel continued on his way...

  The leathery earth stretched endlessly beneath his feet, emitting faint sounds like the moans of hides stretched over a smoldering fire. Each step sank into the surface as if he were walking on a living body silently enduring pain. This was no ordinary ground... but a slab of compressed screams turned to leather.

  The fog returned, but this time, he was not alone.

  Creatures emerged from the mist. They did not attack him, but watched. They harmonized with the air, as if their very existence was part of the terrifying melody the wind played on the strings of madness.

  The first was a skeletal Wendigo, emaciated with cracked skin and limbs too long—longer than anything living had a right to be. Its face was a skull veiled in black snow, eye sockets emitting a dead blue light, like a spirit slowly rotting.

  Then came a mist-wreathed being with tattered wings, gliding soundlessly above him, leaving a trail of cracking and reforming ice. Its head was split in two, each half gazing in opposite directions, as if seeing every angle at once.

  At the edges of the path, giant spiders crawled, their bodies crowned with white fur, limbs ending in octopus-like tendrils that slithered over the leather walls as if searching for prey.

  Yet Gabriel did not stop.

  He walked on.

  Until...

  The fog split.

  The air froze.

  And the Tower appeared.

  The first thing he saw was the red moon, hanging in the sky like the eye of some ancient entity, staring unblinking at the world. Behind it, clouds gathered to form a larger eye, as if the sky itself watched him through some hidden gateway.

  Then the Tower manifested.

  A stone tower, black tinged with sickly green, erupting from the leather earth like a petrified finger pointing to the limits of reason. Its tall windows bled a radioactive green light, as if something inside burned with invisible flames—only their aftermath visible.

  The stones of the Tower were uneven, some carved with strange glyphs resembling the bones of extinct creatures, others pulsing every few seconds... Yes, pulsing. As if the stones themselves were hearts torn out and forced to beat one last time.

  The stairway leading up was carved into the leather ground, but it was no ordinary staircase... It was overgrown with thorned roses and tangled brambles.

  And at the Tower's gate... stood four statues.

  A raven statue, perched atop a nameless grave, gazing indifferently to the left as if nothing held its interest.

  A stone owl, head tilted to the side, its glass-red eyes reflecting the faces of all who beheld it.

  And two colossal skeletal figures, the most towering beings Gabriel had ever seen. Their bodies were pure bone, draped in dark ashen robes, staring forward while gripping massive swords. One had a skull resembling the sun—a skeletal sun with dangling skulls at its rays.

  Gabriel felt like an ant—nothing more—beneath the feet of these stone sentinels. He dared not raise his head fully. He dared not even think. He simply stood before the Tower, breathing heavily, his heart pounding as if trying to escape his chest.

  Gabriel understood the truth...

  This was no mere tower...