Page 57 of Ghoul Me, Maybe
The last thug lunges. Desperate. Screaming.
Elias doesn’t dodge.
Hedisintegrates—splits into mist—then reforms behind him, grabs his head, and slams it sideways into a beam so hard it cracks the wood.
The wreck groans around us, like it might collapse from the sheer force of his rage.
Grey is already running.
Elias hurls himself after him—but hestaggers.
Mid-air.
Like something’spullinghim.
He hits the deck hard. Too hard.
He doesn’t rise.
The relic is gone.
I crawl to him, ribs shrieking.
“Elias!”
He looks up at me.
His eyes are fading.
So is his outline.
Parts of him are already transparent—his hands, his edges. Like smoke unraveling.
“No, no, no—” I grab his coat. “Stay here.Stay with me.”
“They took it,” he whispers. “It’s...calling back.”
My hands tremble. “Then go after it!”
“Ican’t,” he says, voice breaking. “Not without... not without you. Not without the anchor.”
Tears sting my eyes. “Then take me with you.”
He shakes his head. “You’ll drown.”
“You’re fading.”
“And you’re still breathing.”
Here we stand. In the wreckage of the world.
Blood and tide and fire behind us.
Nothing ahead.
Just the loss.
“I’m sorry,” he says, as the last of him flickers.
