The brighter mark burned hot against Kenzo’s chest, not painful — steady. He felt it spread through him, grounding him, reminding him of who he was before the fear, before the bus, before the shadows.

“I remember myself,” he whispered. “You don’t get to take that.”

The thing wearing Tunde’s face recoiled slightly, its smile finally cracking. “You don’t win by remembering,” it snapped. “You win by letting go.”

Kenzo shook his head, tears streaming freely now. “No. I’ve let go my whole life. This time, I stay.”

The invisible presence beside him straightened, growing taller, stronger, as if feeding on his resolve. For the first time, Kenzo felt it merge with his breath, his heartbeat — not as a parasite, but as a shield.

The hooded woman smiled sadly. “That’s it,” she said. “You chose yourself.”

The pale creature screamed, dissolving into ash that scattered across the floor like dead memories. The bus groaned, shaking violently, lights flickering as the road outside began to tear apart.

The driver yelled, “Hold on! The mark is rejecting them!”

Outside, the thing with Tunde’s face pounded on the glass, its voice no longer calm.

“You can’t leave,” it snarled. “You belong to us!”

Kenzo met its eyes, chest blazing, and whispered through shaking lips:

“Not anymore.”

The bus surged forward — straight into blinding white light.

And for the first time since this began, the shadows screamed…

not in hunger,

but in loss.

The brighter mark burned hot against Kenzo’s chest, not painful — steady. He felt it spread through him, grounding him, reminding him of who he was before the fear, before the bus, before the shadows.

“I remember myself,” he whispered. “You don’t get to take that.”

The thing wearing Tunde’s face recoiled slightly, its smile finally cracking. “You don’t win by remembering,” it snapped. “You win by letting go.”

Kenzo shook his head, tears streaming freely now. “No. I’ve let go my whole life. This time, I stay.”

The invisible presence beside him straightened, growing taller, stronger, as if feeding on his resolve. For the first time, Kenzo felt it merge with his breath, his heartbeat — not as a parasite, but as a shield.

The hooded woman smiled sadly. “That’s it,” she said. “You chose yourself.”

The pale creature screamed, dissolving into ash that scattered across the floor like dead memories. The bus groaned, shaking violently, lights flickering as the road outside began to tear apart.

The driver yelled, “Hold on! The mark is rejecting them!”

Outside, the thing with Tunde’s face pounded on the glass, its voice no longer calm.

“You can’t leave,” it snarled. “You belong to us!”

Kenzo met its eyes, chest blazing, and whispered through shaking lips:

“Not anymore.”

The bus surged forward — straight into blinding white light.

And for the first time since this began, the shadows screamed…

not in hunger,

but in loss.