The ruined house stood like a hollow shell at the top of the hill, its roof caved in, its windows shattered. D’Angelo stepped inside slowly, his sandals crunching over broken wood and glass. The air was heavy with the sour stink of acid and something worse—blood.

  “This… this was my house,” D’Angelo whispered. His voice cracked as he looked around, eyes wide. “It was nice. Mama kept it real clean. We didn’t have much, but… it was home.”

  Jeremiah stayed by the entrance that used to be a door, his hood casting a shadow over his face. “It looks like something came through fast,” he said, his voice low. “Too fast for them to get away.”

  Shadow padded ahead and sniffed near a pile of wrecked furniture. “No signs of life,” the husky muttered, nose twitching. “No fresh scent. Just blood and monster stink.”

  D’Angelo walked over to a splintered rocking chair, one his dad had fixed up for his mama. He knelt beside it, brushing his fingers across a cracked wooden arm. “My dad sat right there… and Mama always made tea on that stove,” he said, pointing to the twisted metal in the corner. “They… they made this place safe. Even when the world wasn’t.”

  Jeremiah approached and put a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You had good parents,” he said. “The kind that keep you grounded when everything else is falling apart.”

  “But they’re not here…” D’Angelo said quietly. He stared at the bloodstains, tears rising in his eyes. “They were supposed to protect me. Now they’re gone, and I don’t know what to do.”

  “You keep going,” Jeremiah said, kneeling to meet his eyes. “You remember them. You carry that safety they gave you, and you build on it.”

  Shadow sat beside them, ears low. “We’ll help you, D. You’re not alone.”

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  D’Angelo wiped his face with the back of his hand. The house was ruined, and his parents were gone. But somehow, with Jeremiah’s quiet strength and Shadow’s strange loyalty, he didn’t feel quite as lost as before.

  They stepped out of the shattered house and into the cool, damp air. The wind tugged at D’Angelo’s shirt and stung his eyes. He didn’t know if it was the breeze or the tears, but his face stayed wet.

  Jeremiah looked toward the darkening sky. “We shouldn’t stay here long. That monster might come back—or worse.”

  D’Angelo nodded, silent, still staring back at the broken shell of his home.

  “You ready?” Shadow asked, voice softer than before.

  “No,” D’Angelo murmured. “But I guess I gotta be.”

  “You were brave back there,” Jeremiah added. “You didn’t freeze. You ran. That’s something.”

  “I didn’t feel brave,” D’Angelo muttered. “I felt… little.”

  “You’re allowed to feel little,” Jeremiah said. “But little doesn't mean weak.”

  Jeremiah placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Walk with me. Both of you.”

  They moved together down the hill, the crunch of dirt and twigs beneath their feet the only sound for a long while. The forest around them swayed gently with the breeze, thick with the scent of moss and river water. D’Angelo kept glancing back, even when the house had long vanished from view.

  Finally, they reached the edge of the riverbank. The rapids had calmed some in the fading light, rippling smooth and dark like a sheet of ink under the cloudy sky.

  Jeremiah raised his hand. Shadows gathered from around his fingers, bending the light itself as they pulled into a wide, flat shape on the water. The shadows stretched and wove into planks, railings, and finally a small canoe-like boat, glistening like it had been carved from obsidian.

  “Hop in,” Jeremiah said. “It’ll hold.”

  D’Angelo looked at the boat warily. “It’s made of shadows?”

  “Hard shadows,” Shadow barked, already leaping in and settling near the front. “Totally rideable.”

  D’Angelo climbed in next, sitting near the center, his legs folded and his eyes wide as he looked at the swirling black sides of the boat.

  Jeremiah stepped in last, and with a wave of his hand, the boat drifted into motion, gliding silently upstream.

  They floated through a quiet stretch of the river, past glowing insects and tall trees whose branches reached like arms overhead. Occasionally, flashes of color zipped by—a flaming bird in the distance, a rabbit with leaves for ears, the distant sparkle of magic dancing through the air.

  Jeremiah broke the silence.

  “You ever been to Chicago before?”

  D’Angelo shook his head. “No. Mama said it was too far… too dangerous on the road.”

  Jeremiah gave a small nod. “It’s dangerous, yeah. But the city’s different now. Got strong walls. Magical barrier runs around the whole thing—keeps most monsters out. It’s the safest place around.”

  Shadow turned to look back at him. “And it’s where we live. Lots of good folks there. People who can help you.”

  D’Angelo looked down at his hands, then out at the river. “So I’ll be safe there?”

  “As safe as you can be,” Jeremiah said. “And you won’t be alone.”

  The boy thought for a moment, then gave a slow nod. “Okay. Let’s go to Chicago.”