Suddenly, the skeletal restraints that had ensnared Alan and Jafar began to loosen, their cold, unyielding grip slackening like the release of a vice. Alan felt a surge of relief as the pressure around his body eased, the jagged fragments of bone falling away with a brittle clatter. He sucked in a sharp breath, the air tasting sweeter now that he could move freely.

As he steadied himself, his eyes darted toward the treeline, where an even more startling transformation was unfolding. The countless glowing blue eyes of the undead creatures—once piercing and malevolent—began to flicker and fade, one by one, like dying embers in a vast, dark expanse. The eerie light that had illuminated their hollow sockets dimmed, leaving behind an oppressive silence that seemed to swallow the clearing whole. The forest itself seemed to hold its breath as the creatures, now lifeless, crumpled to the ground in a series of soft, disjointed thuds. Their skeletal forms, once animated by some dark force, now lay in scattered heaps, as if the very essence that had bound them together had been severed.

The bone golem, a towering monstrosity that had loomed over Alan like a specter of death, began to shudder violently. Cracks raced across its massive frame, spreading like wildfire until the entire structure seemed to groan under its own weight. With a deafening crash, it collapsed in on itself, its bones cascading to the forest floor in a chaotic, clattering avalanche. Alan stared, wide-eyed, as the once-imposing construct disintegrated before him, its malevolent energy dissipating like smoke in the wind.

Jafar: “What’s happening?” Jafar gasped, his voice trembling with a mix of awe and disbelief.

He struggled to sit up, the chains of bone that had pinned him down now crumbling into dust. His eyes darted around the clearing, taking in the surreal scene of the undead horde’s sudden demise.

Jafar: “Did… did we do this?”

Alan shook his head slowly, his mind racing to make sense of the chaos unfolding before him. The remnants of the battle lay scattered around them, and yet the most pressing concern was the figure of Sandra, who was now ensnared by chains that seemed to pulse with dark energy.

Alan: “I don’t think so,” he murmured, his gaze fixed intently on Sandra, trying to decipher what was going on.

Sandra: “NO! NO! NOOO!!!! This isn’t supposed to be happening!” Sandra’s voice erupted in a raw, guttural scream, a cacophony of rage and despair that echoed through the clearing. Her wild eyes darted frantically, her once-crazed confidence now shattered as she thrashed against the chains.

The loose lengths of the bindings rattled and clinked with her struggles, their dark purplish energy flaring brighter with every futile attempt to break free. But the chains held firm, unyielding, as if they were alive and relishing her desperation.

Suddenly, with a sharp, metallic snap, the slack in the chains jerked taut, the force so violent it seemed to reverberate through the air itself. The ends of the chains anchored themselves deep into the earth around her, yanking Sandra down with brutal efficiency. She let out a pained grunt as her knees hit the ground, her body forced into submission. Her hands clawed at the chains, her nails scraping uselessly against the dark, shimmering links, but it was no use. She was trapped.

Alan’s breath caught as he recognized the chains. They were unmistakable—the same binding spell Sorin had used against Sere in the archives. The memory flashed in his mind: the way the chains had coiled around Sere, draining her strength, sealing her powers, rendering her helpless. It was a binding spell, one that Sorin had wielded to capture Sere. Seeing it now, used against Sandra, sent a cold shiver down Alan’s spine. The sight of Sorin’s magic being invoked again, especially in such a dire and twisted context, filled him with a deep, aching distress.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away. Sandra’s defiance was crumbling, her once-ferocious aura now diminished, and the chains seemed to feed on her despair. Alan’s fists clenched at his sides, a storm of emotions raging within him—relief at their temporary safety, and unease at the magic at play.

“Who had cast that spell?” The questions burned in Alan’s mind, unanswered, as the clearing fell into an eerie, heavy silence.

Bursting out of the shadows of the treeline, Joe and the rest of the team emerged, weapons drawn and aimed directly at Sandra. Their expressions were serious, a mix of determination and concern etched across their faces as they entered the clearing, ready for whatever confrontation lay ahead.

Joe: “Is she secure?” he asked, his voice steady as he assessed the situation, his gun still trained on Sandra.

Rell

: “This spell is specifically designed to bind and seal away a person's magic,” he replied, stepping up beside Joe. His hand glowed with the same energy that coursed through the chains wrapping around Sandra. “So, yes. She’s secured.”

Joe’s gaze remained fixed on Sandra, his finger hovering near the trigger as he scrutinized her every move. After a moment, he slowly lowered his weapon, Rell’s confirmation easing the tension in his stance. He then turned toward Jafar and Alan, who were still recovering from the chaos of the battle. Without hesitation, he quickly ran over to them, concern etched on his face.

Joe: “Are you guys okay?” Joe asked, his voice filled with urgency as he knelt beside Jafar, who was still wincing from his injuries. “What happened here?”

Jafar: “We were ambushed,” he explained. “Sandra summoned a golem and a bunch of undead creatures. We were barely holding our ground until… well, until whatever just happened with the chains.”

Joe: “Rell’s magic was used to bind her. It seems to have disrupted her control over the undead.”

Joe glanced back at Sandra, who was struggling against the chains that bound her, her expression a volatile mix of fury and desperation. The sight of her thrashing against her restraints only fueled his determination to keep her contained. He then turned his attention back to Alan and Jafar, quickly assessing their injuries.

Joe: “Hey, Mike! We need some first aid magic over here!” he called out to his partner, urgency lacing his voice.

Mike rushed up behind Joe, ready to apply healing magic to Alan. But as he approached, Alan raised a hand, gesturing for him to stop.

Alan: “That’s fine, Mike. Look after Jafar first. I can handle this,” he said, his voice steady despite the pain. His hands began to glow with healing magic as he pressed them against his injured shoulder, channeling the energy to mend the wound.

Mike nodded, understanding the priority, and quickly moved over to Jafar, who was still on the ground, grimacing in pain. As Mike began to work on Jafar’s injuries, Dan and Rell cautiously approached Sandra, ready to secure her with Jinsil cuffs. The tension in the air was high as they prepared to restrain her further.

Meanwhile, Joe turned back to Alan, who was focused on healing himself. A surge of anger bubbled up within him, and he couldn’t hold back.

Joe: “You’re fucking lucky you’re hurt, or I would punch you right now,” he snapped, his voice low but intense. “This is the SECOND time you’ve done this! The first time was innocent enough, but this? I told you not to get into trouble!”

Alan winced, both from the pain in his shoulder and the weight of Joe’s words.

Alan: “I know, I know,” he replied, his tone defensive yet remorseful. “But I didn’t have a choice! I didn’t have time to get in contact with you. And, Jafar’s life was in danger.”

Joe crossed his arms, frustration evident on his face.

Joe: “You can’t just throw yourself into danger like that! We’re a team, and we need to look out for each other and move together.”

Alan: “I understand, Joe,” Alan said, his voice softening as he met Joe’s gaze. “But I can’t just stand by and watch my friends get hurt.”

Joe let out a deep sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction as he processed Alan’s response. He was struggling to hold onto his anger, it was slipping through his fingers like sand. Beneath Alan’s reckless bravado, Joe saw something achingly familiar—a fierce determination, a refusal to back down, no matter the odds. It was a mirror of his own younger self, and the realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

Memories surged unbidden to the surface, vivid and painful. He saw the faces of friends long gone, their laughter and voices echoing in his mind like ghosts. He remembered the moment he had lost them, the crushing weight of their absence, the guilt that had gnawed at him for years. It was a burden he carried every day, a constant reminder of the cost of the life they lived. That loss had shaped him, hardened him, and now, looking at Alan, he saw the same fire—and the same potential for heartbreak.

Joe: “Look, Alan,” the senior detective began, his voice softer now, laced with a weariness that came from years of carrying too much. “I get it. I really do. I’ve been there—wanting to protect everyone, to keep them safe no matter what. But you have to understand… we can’t afford to lose anyone else. Not again.”

Alan met Joe’s gaze, the defiance in his eyes flickering as the weight of Joe’s words settled over him.

Alan: “I know, Joe,” he said quietly, his voice cracking under the strain of emotion. “I just… I can’t stand by and watch my friends get hurt. It’s like I’m… I don’t want to go through losing someone again. I can’t.”

Joe nodded, his chest tightening with empathy. He knew that pain all too well—the sleepless nights, the what-ifs, the endless replaying of moments that could have gone differently.

Joe: “I feel the same way,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But that’s why we have to be smart about this. We can’t just charge in blindly, thinking we can save everyone on our own. We need to work together. Move together, as a team.”

Alan’s expression softened, the fire in his eyes dimming as Joe’s words sank in. He looked down for a moment, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, before finally nodding.

Alan: “You’re right,” he said, his voice steadier now. “I just… I don’t want to fail you or them.” he said as looked towards Jafar and Mike. ”Any of them.”

Joe reached out, placing a hand on Alan’s shoulder.

Joe: “Neither do I,” he said firmly. “But we’re stronger together. We need to have each other’s backs. No more lone wolf stuff, okay?”

Alan managed a small, rueful smile.

Alan: “Okay. No more lone wolf stuff.”

For a moment, the two of them stood there, the weight of their shared understanding hanging in the air. It wasn’t a perfect resolution, but it was a start. And in a world where loss was always just one misstep away, that was enough.

Joe scanned Alan from head to toe, sensing that his words had truly struck a chord this time.

Joe

: “Good. Anyway, how did you find Sandra?” Joe asked, his tone casual but his eyes alight with curiosity. He leaned back slightly, arms crossed, waiting for Alan’s response.

Alan froze, his mind scrambling to piece together a believable story. The truth—Cid’s involvement—was off-limits, and he could feel the weight of Joe’s scrutiny pressing down on him.

Alan: “I, um, talked to some random people who said they saw someone who looked like Sandra heading north,” he stammered, the words tumbling out in a rush. He forced a weak smile, hoping it would mask the unease bubbling beneath the surface.

Joe’s eyes narrowed, his skepticism plain as day.

Joe: “So, you just happened to chat with some random people who conveniently told you where she was?” he asked, his voice dripping with doubt. He tilted his head, studying Alan like a puzzle he was determined to solve. “That’s quite the coincidence.”

Alan’s stomach churned. He could feel the walls closing in. Desperate to redirect the conversation.

Alan: “Uh, how did you find us here, then?”

Joe’s expression shifted, the skepticism giving way to a faint smile.

Joe: “Oh, that’s a different story,” he said, his tone lighter now. “We figured out the clue she left in the letter. It said ‘where things rot.’ The slime creatures we encountered were made of Rot Slime, so we thought there might be a connection. Rell suggested we check out the one place known for producing rot slime for alchemy near the city—UG Labs. We managed to get into the area and started searching. That’s when we heard some commotion coming from the nearby woods. We ventured inside and stumbled upon a horde of undead wandering around. After fighting a bunch of them, we finally found you and Sandra here.”

Alan listened intently, his shoulders relaxing slightly as Joe recounted their journey. The vivid details painted a picture of resourcefulness, and for a moment, Alan felt a flicker of admiration for Joe and—even Rell, which he hated to admit. They’d pieced together the clues faster than he expected, fought their way through danger, and found them against all odds. But beneath that admiration, a gnawing guilt lingered. He had lied to them, and the weight of that deception sat heavy in his chest.

Alan: “That’s… pretty incredible,” he said, his voice tinged with genuine respect. But his mind was already racing, wondering how long he could keep the truth hidden—and what the consequences would be if it ever came to light.

Joe opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word, a bloodcurdling scream tore through the air, slicing through the tension like a blade. All heads snapped toward Sandra, the atmosphere instantly shifting from cautious conversation to one of palpable alarm.

Rell had just released his magical hold on her, and Dan moved on her, snapping the Jinsil cuffs around her wrists. But Sandra was far from subdued. She thrashed violently, her movements wild and desperate, her eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and terror as she fought against the restraints and Dan’s iron grip. Rell rushed to help, the two of them grappling to keep her under control.

Sandra: “No! Why! It lied to me! Why! This wasn’t supposed to happen! This was not what I was promised!” Sandra’s voice was raw, a guttural cry of rage and despair that echoed through the clearing. Her words were frantic, almost incoherent, as if she were pleading with some unseen force. Her struggles intensified, her body twisting and writhing as she tried to break free. But just as her tirade reached its peak, she suddenly froze.

Her body went rigid, her struggles ceasing as abruptly as they had begun. Her eyes, wide and unseeing, stared blankly into the distance, a glassy, faraway look overtaking her features. It was as if she had been pulled into another world, one that none of them could see or understand. Dan and Rell exchanged uneasy glances, their grips on her tightening as they tried to make sense of her sudden stillness. The air grew heavier, charged with an unspoken dread.

Then, without warning, a low, guttural chuckle escaped her lips. It started softly, almost imperceptibly, but quickly grew into a full, unnerving laugh. Her lips curled into a disturbingly wide smile, one that almost reached her eyes—eyes that now gleamed with a manic, otherworldliness. The sound of her laughter sent a cold wave of dread through everyone present, their instincts screaming that something was terribly wrong.

Sandra: “♫Rattle, tap, tap, tap. Rattle, tap, tap, tap. Rattle, tap, tap, tap. Rattle, tap, tap, tap. Rattle, tap, tap, tap. Rattle, tap, tap, tap♫,” she began to sing, her voice eerily melodic, each word dripping with a haunting cadence.

The rhythm was hypnotic, yet deeply unsettling, as if the very sound of it could burrow into their minds and take root. She repeated the phrase over and over, her tone shifting between a whisper and a chant, her body swaying slightly as though caught in some omnious dance.

The clearing fell into a heavy, oppressive silence, broken only by Sandra’s eerie refrain. The air itself seemed to thicken, the weight of her words pressing down on them like a physical force.

Dan and Rell exchanged another glance, their faces pale, their grips on Sandra tightening as if they could somehow anchor her—or themselves—to reality. But it was no use. Sandra was no longer the woman they had known. She was something else now, a vessel for a force they couldn’t comprehend, and the chilling rhythm of her song left them all questioning the dark power that had taken hold of her.

The echoes of her voice lingered, a haunting reminder that whatever had claimed Sandra was far from finished. And as the last notes of her song faded into the stillness, a single, unspoken thought hung in the air: Was this madness, or something else?