The Characters:
A high school student who is almost 18 years old. She lacks any memories from her childhood and has been moving around with her father as if they are escaping from something.
A student who transferred to Heather's school on the same day as her.
A female priest leading a mysterious cult.
Heather's father.
A suspicious man investigating Heather and her actions.
The mother of the mysterious girl Alessa.
Claudia's father.
Heather's mother.
A mysterious girl.
The sound of a siren was blaring in the distance.
I have to run.
Heather Mason was running through a misty forest.
Before they catch me.
The sound of her shoes hitting the ground and her heavy breathing echoed loudly. As she burst through the dense forest, a light suddenly appeared ahead. Like a moth attracted to a flame, her feet naturally led her toward the light. Floating in the night darkness was an old amusement park with dimly glowing lights. The large entrance gate was shaped like a creepy clown's face. She rushed into the park through the open mouth, then stopped for a moment to check behind her.
The fog concealed everything, but she could definitely hear the terrifying sound of something dragging metal shackles.
I need to hide somewhere.
Heather looked around desperately, trying to find a place to conceal herself. Then, a shooting gallery booth came into view. She quickly moved to its shadow and crouched down, trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. She curled up tightly and tried to steady her erratic breathing.
At that moment, even her pounding heartbeat seemed loud enough for the pursuers to hear. Where was this town? Why was she running? Who was chasing her? Questions swirled in her mind as she buried her face in her knees, but no answers came. She only knew one thing for certain:
If I don't make it out now, I won't live to see my 18th birthday.
She cautiously raised her head and looked around again. The gate was open, so the park must be operating even at night, yet there wasn’t a single person in sight. Everything in the park was old, rusty, and dilapidated. Nearby, there was a wooden shelf lined with half-circle fishbowls. They might have been prizes for the shooting game, but the water in every bowl was murky green. The neglected goldfish inside moved slowly in the dirty water. Next to the shelf was a large, dirty pink rabbit stuffed animal, possibly a top prize.
Suddenly, a distant memory resurfaced. A young Heather, barely able to carry a large stuffed animal, happily bouncing around. Her father watched with a gentle smile. It was a simple, yet incredibly happy family moment. There was nothing to fear back then. Like the fleeting dream of the Little Match Girl, the memory quickly vanished. The sound of the pursuers' footsteps brought Heather abruptly back to reality.
They were getting close. Staying here would only get her caught eventually. She needed to find another hiding spot.
Heather stood up and glanced at the rabbit stuffed animal once more. The rabbit lay on its back, staring blankly at the sky with its round eyes. In the split second she looked away, something unbelievable happened. The rabbit's head suddenly turned around and looked at her. Its faint smile made her shiver, and she let out an involuntary scream.
Shit, they’ll hear me!
Heather darted out from behind the booth and sprinted through the amusement park. She didn't dare look back. They must have been right behind her. She had to find a place to hide, anywhere, and fast.
In front of Heather was a merry-go-round. She thought that the multiple horses overlapping each other might provide some cover. Desperately, she slipped between the horses and crouched behind one of them. Praying not to be found, she slowly raised her head.
"Return to us. Come back..."
Ahead of her, strange figures in black robes repeated those words as they approached. There were not just one or two of them; their numbers kept increasing as if they were being spawned from the darkness, gradually surrounding the merry-go-round.
What should I do? There’s nowhere to escape. I’m going to get caught at this rate.
She didn’t know who they were or why they were chasing her, but she knew for sure that she was their target. Crawling under the horses, she looked around for an escape route. Even though the situation seemed hopeless, she couldn’t bring herself to give up.
Suddenly, with a jolt, the merry-go-round began to turn slowly. Who turned on the switch? She glanced over her shoulder and saw a sinister figure standing in the center of the ride, causing her eyes to widen. A large man with a pyramid-shaped helmet on his head, bare-chested and wearing a long white skirt, was there. His body was covered in blood, possibly from some earlier encounter. The man turned a metal handle silently, causing the carousel to move. The bizarre sight left her speechless. As she instinctively stood up and stepped back, her arm hit something. A horse? No, it was warm and had give to it. A sense of dread washed over her, and when she slowly turned her head, she found herself staring into the terrified eyes of a human.
A person!?
Her whole body shivered with terror. What she thought was a horse was actually a living human being, hanging from the ceiling by chains. And there were many others, their emaciated bodies bound with leather straps. Hooks pierced their backs, and their weight threatened to tear their flesh. They convulsed in pain, their faces twisted in agony, as they pleaded silently with bloodshot eyes. Overwhelmed by the horrific sight, she tried to leave, but someone blocked her way.
Who?
Heather frowned and focused on the person’s face. It was a girl, similar in age and appearance to herself. Her hairstyle and build were also alike, but the girl's face was horribly burnt. The gruesome sight made Heather feel as if she was seeing something forbidden. She wanted to look away but found herself unable to. Her body was frozen in place.
"Don't go back."
A hoarse voice reached her ears.
"Don't go to Silent Hill. You can't defeat me."
The girl said, her face contorting as she spoke. Silent Hill—the name triggered something deep in Heather's mind, causing a flood of unspoken thoughts to surge up. She summoned all her strength to speak, but no words came out.
Meanwhile, the girl raised her right hand. To Heather’s astonishment, the pursuers around the merry-go-round caught fire, the flames spreading rapidly. In no time, they were surrounded by a roaring inferno. The black-robed figures writhed in the flames, their shadows writhing ominously. The fire closed in, cutting off all escape routes. The sharp-eyed girl stared at Heather, and she returned the gaze. Red tendrils of flame climbed onto the carousel, igniting the suspended bodies, which began to burn with a roar. The scene turned red, and soon Heather was engulfed in the flames. Fire licked up her black pants, climbing her body like a snake. Her white vest and red sweater caught fire, and in an instant, she was a human torch. As the relentless flames scorched her skin and cooked her flesh, she lets out a final scream.
“Heather!”
The door burst open, and her father's voice called her name. Heather opened her eyes. The bedside lamp illuminated the dark room dimly. She was still screaming as she lay in bed.
“Heather, it’s alright now.”
Her father, Harry, shook her gently. Blinking a few times, she saw his worried face looking down at her.
“Dad’s here.”
He held her tightly, and she clung to him, finally finding some comfort.
Thank god. It was just a dream.
He patted her back to calm her as she breathed heavily.
“Dad, I was on fire...”
“It was just a dream. Look, see, you’re fine.”
His warm hand wiped the sweat from her face, and his kind green eyes looked at her reassuringly. Daddy was always there for her, always protecting her. He had been and always would be. She had felt his deep love throughout the long years they had spent together. As long as Daddy was there, she would be alright. However, the dream had been so vivid that she couldn’t shake her unease.
“This one was different. It was terrible...”
“Every time we move, you have those nightmares, don’t you? Once we settle in, this place will be home, like always. The dreams will stop.”
“But they were calling me, telling me to come back.”
Her father’s face turned serious immediately.
“Heather, no. Don’t listen to them, alright?”
“Yes, I understand.”
She nodded slightly, but Harry’s tone grew even firmer.
“Promise me. No matter what that you won’t go there.”
“Dad, I...”
His grip on her shoulders tightened, making her wince.
“Promise me!”
His expression grew more intense, deepening the lines on his forehead.
“Alright, I promise. But why? Wha—”
Before she could finish, Harry interrupted her.
“Heather, it’s because—”
In the next instant, Harry's eyes widened.
“Dad?”
Her voice was drowned out by his scream as something burst from his chest. A sharp blade protruded from his body. Harry’s face contorted in pain, and blood gushed from his mouth.
“Dad!”
Heather screamed as she was showered in blood. Her eyes fixed on the terrifying shadow behind her father. It wasn’t just a shadow—it was a monstrous creature. It had a female-like body, but its white face had no eyes, only dark, hollow sockets. There was no nose, and its small mouth was twisted grotesquely. A sharp disc-like blade was embedded in its head, and its arms ended in wide, blade-like hands. The left arm had pierced through her father’s chest. And right in front of Heather's face, the monster lifted its left arm forcefully, slicing her father's upper left body cleanly in half. The severed half of his body fell to the floor, and an enormous amount of blood splattered all over the room. Heather, her face now covered in blood, screamed and rolled off the bed.
I have to get out.
Terrified, her body wouldn't move as she wanted. Trying to get as far away from the monster standing by the room's entrance as possible, she crawled towards the window on the floor.
Before it catches me.
Reaching the window, Heather extended her hand to the lock. If she could get out through there, she might be saved.
Hurry!
Her mind raced, and her fingers trembled. Her sweaty hands slipped on the lock, making it hard to open. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the creature, a living weapon, slowly approaching her. Each step made a horrific, sticky sound.
Please open!
Strangely, the once new lock was now completely rusted. She tried repeatedly to open it, but it only made grating, screeching noises. The monster's footsteps grew louder as it approached from behind. Heather continued to struggle desperately with the lock. In the next moment, the stubborn lock suddenly opened.
I can get out now.
But before she could open the window, she realized something. The footsteps behind her had stopped. No way. She felt the killing intent right behind her and turned around. In her line of sight was the monster's blade-arm descending upon her.
Heather woke up abruptly from the dream, sitting up with a start. Her body was drenched in sweat, and her breath was ragged. She blinked slowly and looked around the room. There was no dead body of her father next to the bed. Of course, there was no mysterious creature with blade arms either. Although she was still not used to it since they had just moved in, it was nothing more than her familiar room. In the corner were unopened moving boxes piled up, and she could see the lights of passing cars moving across the curtain.
"What a horrible nightmare..."
Heather muttered softly and turned on the bedside lamp. She felt relieved by the warm light and reached for a notebook on the side table, opening it to a new page. It was just a diary, but it contained bizarre and unreal content and illustrations, not typical for a seventeen-year-old girl. All of it was from the dreams she had seen until now.
Don't go to Silent Hill. You cannot defeat me
The words of the girl she had met on the merry-go-round in her nightmare suddenly resurfaced. Then she remembered the vivid sensation of being burned alive and shook her head violently. She then quickly scribbled in red ink on the fresh page and closed the notebook with a snap.
From the toaster, a golden-brown slice of toast popped out energetically. Harry took it out, spread peanut butter evenly on it, and placed it on the plate in front of Heather.
In the kitchen, bathed in the fresh morning sunlight, the father and daughter were having breakfast. Her plate also held her favorite blueberry tart, but perhaps due to the nightmare, she had no appetite this morning. She lowered her gaze to the steaming white mug of coffee and muttered softly.
"Dad, I'm... so tired of this..."
The constant moving. The recurring nightmares. Her true feelings slipped out involuntarily.
"I know, honey."
Her father, in his gray T-shirt and red striped pajama pants, answered sadly. Harry Mason, in his late forties and at the peak of his working years, looked terribly haggard, as if the stress had taken a toll on him. It seemed like he had suddenly aged a lot recently. For a moment, his eyes had a distant look, but he quickly snapped back to reality and glanced around the kitchen.
"Uh, where are the spoons and forks?" Harry sighed as he noticed the pile of boxes in the corner. "We really need to unpack soon; it's starting to become inconvenient."
"Dad, I think they're in that one," Heather said, pointing.
He turned to look where she indicated and walked over to the box labeled "Dishes." After rummaging through it for a while, he happily held up some cutlery.
"I got them."
Heather smiled slightly in response. This was a typical scene in the Mason household. They had always lived quietly, just the two of them. Their family moments, though undisturbed, were marked by mutual concern and a facade of smiles that concealed their deep-seated fears and anxieties. Their relationship wasn't awkward; rather, their peaceful times were fragile, like a sandcastle that could collapse at any moment. Despite not experiencing the usual joys of an ordinary family, the hardships they had faced had forged an unbreakable bond between father and daughter.
"Why Heather?" she asked as she accepted the spoon and fork. This time, her name was Heather.
"It's my grandmother's name. If you don't like it, we can change it."
He sat at the table and sipped his black coffee from a mug.
"No, Heather's fine. Sharon, Cathy, Mary... and now Heather," she said as she added sugar and milk to her coffee, stirring it. She liked watching the black liquid swirl and turn into a gentle café au lait color. "You were Christopher, but now you're Harry. Our name changes, but you're still you, and I'm still me. Names don't matter."
Names were like clothes. She had cut her shoulder-length black hair and dyed it blonde. Changing names felt the same as changing her appearance. Taking a sip of coffee, she felt the warm liquid slide down her throat, easing her tension slightly.
After finishing his coffee, Harry suddenly stood up, walked back to the boxes, and retrieved something wrapped in red from the top. He handed it to Heather.
"What's this?" she asked, puzzled. The package was light and soft.
"It's a birthday present. Happy birthday."
"Dad..." Heather's face lit up with an unexpected smile. She stood up and hugged Harry tightly, savoring his familiar scent. "But today isn't the day yet."
"It's a little early. My beloved daughter is almost eighteen. I just wanted to see your happy face a bit sooner."
Heather beamed at him, then eagerly unwrapped the red paper. Inside was a white down vest. It was adorable at first glance but also gave her a strange sense of déjà vu. It looked like the one she wore in her dream yesterday.
"What's wrong? Don't you like it?" he asked, concerned.
"No, it's wonderful," Heather replied quickly. She moved to a nearby mirror and tried on the vest. It fit perfectly and matched her red sweater. "It feels great. I'll wear it right away."
"You were looking at it in the mall the other day, right?" Harry said, smiling. Heather nodded.
"Yeah. You remembered."
Still wearing the vest, she walked over to her father, who was sitting, and hugged him around the neck, kissing his forehead. She touched his light brown hair.
"You've got more gray hairs."
"Yeah, because of you," he replied with a smile, gently brushing her bangs aside.
"Your roots are showing—"
"Okay, I'll dye it again soon."
Feeling his large hand gently patting her head, she felt much calmer than before. It was just a dream. She needed to forget it.
However, Harry's next words froze her.
"Once we unpack and repaint the walls, this will be our home. Just like before."
"Dad, stop."
The nightmare she tried to push to the back of her mind resurfaced vividly. Right after he said that, the monster had torn him in half.
"What's wrong?"
Harry quickly noticed his daughter's distress, his expression clouding.
"In the nightmare I had yesterday, you said the same thing. So..."
Heather stood up from his lap, put on her maroon and navy checkered duffle coat, and checked the time on her phone.
"I have to go. I don't want to be late on my first day at the new school."
More than anything, she didn't want to continue talking about that dream. Harry handed her the school bag as she headed for the door.
"Do you remember the rules?"
"Yes dad, the same as before, right?"
"Right, but I'm worried..."
He answered seriously, always looking concerned when she went out.
"You know I'm careful, right? Don't worry."
She gave him her best reassuring smile and hugged his large frame.
"Love you, Dad."
She understood all too well. He was afraid she might leave and never return, that they might never see each other again.
"Love you too," he said.
She gently pulled away from his embrace, turned the doorknob, and stepped outside. "I'm off," she called back, seeing the sadness in Harry's face as he watched her leave.
Heather hunched her shoulders against the cold air of the midwinter morning. The sunlight was still too weak at this time of year to melt the snow left on the roadside. She stepped onto the main street and hurried toward the school bus stop. She didn’t know how long she’d be living here, but for now, she would be walking this route every day. New town, new place, new people. Moving so often had taught Heather how to quietly blend into unfamiliar spaces like a shadow. She was there, but no one noticed her presence... like an animal camouflaging itself to evade predators, she thought. Even so, newcomers were destined to stand out at first.
A bit ahead, she saw the yellow bus and nearby children exchanging cheerful greetings. This wasn't her first time transferring schools, but the first day always made her nervous, and it took some courage to get onto a school bus full of unfamiliar faces. As children her age boarded one after another, her pace naturally slowed, and she hesitated to move forward. Glancing at the garbage dump by the roadside, she saw an old homeless man lying between some cardboard boxes. He was wrapped in old newspapers and a dirty blanket, but it was hardly enough to keep him warm. His face was buried in the ground, and he was curled up in a small ball, not moving at all. Thinking he might be... Heather cautiously approached the homeless man.
At that moment, the man suddenly lifted his head, startling her into stopping. Relieved that he was alive despite the scare, Heather was about to walk away when she took another look and her eyes widened. The man had no eyes, nose, or mouth. His face was smooth except for the jagged scars that looked like rough stitches. The grotesque sight rendered Heather speechless and rooted her to the spot. The man began to crawl toward her in a bizarre motion and said in a raspy voice:
“You cannot escape your fate. Return now.”
“Return? What do you mean? Return where?”
Confused, Heather took a step back. Then a name flashed in her mind.
Silent Hill
Suddenly, a car horn blared, jolting her to a halt. A car sped by right behind her. Feeling the rush of wind against her back, she was startled and dropped her bag. She realized she was standing in the middle of the road. Quickly squatting to pick up her belongings and heading for the school bus, Heather was shocked again when she saw an unfamiliar person standing in front of her.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
It was a middle-aged man, solidly built, wearing a dark green hat. He had a scruffy beard and wore a shabby trench coat, far from a refined appearance. Heather instinctively felt wary.
“It’s best not to bother the homeless.”
“I wasn’t... I just thought he needed some help.”
Heather made a weak excuse and tried to leave. As she glanced back at the homeless man, strangely, his face looked normal. Was her vivid nightmare from last night causing her to see things? She couldn't shake her confusion and furrowed her brows.
“Half-hearted kindness won’t save anyone. Then again, some can’t be saved no matter how hard you try.”
The man in the coat took some coins from his pocket and handed them to the homeless man.
“Get yourself a warm drink.”
Heather hurriedly headed toward the bus, ignoring them. She didn’t want to get involved with strangers. It was against her father’s rules. To dispel her uneasy feelings, she walked with deliberately large strides. A few meters on, she heard a voice behind her.
“Hey, miss, wait a minute.”
She turned around.
“Have we met before?”
The middle-aged man approached with a smirk.
“No. You’ve got the wrong person.” Heather said coldly.
“Is that so? I’m sure we’ve met. What’s your name?”
Regretting having responded to his initial question, Heather didn’t want him to probe further.
“The bus is leaving. I have to go.”
She ran to the bus, feeling his gaze on her back. She caught her breath and moved to the back of the crowded bus. Unsurprisingly, all the faces were unfamiliar. Thankfully, they only glanced at her before losing interest. She found a gap on the left side of the rear seats and sat down. Next to her was a chubby girl who scooted over slightly to make room. The girl flashed a friendly smile with braces before returning to her smartphone. Admiring the speed of her typing, Heather put in her earphones. Music blocked out the bus's noise, making her feel isolated from the chaotic reality. The bus carrying the students began to move quietly.
Despite the bus's heating, the windows were fogged, but someone had wiped a spot clear, revealing the view outside. The road was littered with trash, and the snow remaining on the roadside was dirty. The bleak winter landscape slid smoothly past the window under the cloudy sky. Heather saw the man in the trench coat standing on the sidewalk. He seemed to be watching the bus leave. He wasn't just a passerby. What was his purpose in approaching her? A sense of unease washed over her, and she turned up the volume of her music.
The bus continued without incident for a while. The warmth and the gentle swaying of the bus slowly relaxed her tense body and mind. She idly watched her fellow passengers chatting, playing with their phones, reading, or dozing off. She couldn't feel that she was living in the same world as them. There was always a deep chasm around her, making her feel like she lived in a reality far removed from theirs. She had grown used to observing the world with a detached eye.
At that moment, she caught a glimpse of something strange outside the window.
Men in black robes?
Weren't they the ones who chased her in her nightmare last night? But as the bus sped up, she couldn't confirm any such passerby when she turned to look. The bus honked loudly and came to a sudden stop.
The jolt caused her head to droop. Blinking a few times, she saw that the scene inside the bus was unchanged. Students were chatting, fiddling with their phones, reading, or napping as they prepared for school. She might have dozed off for a moment. The men in black robes were just a dream. Yes, it must have been a dream. Trying to shake off the bad dream, she gave a small shake of her head.
“Hey, you want some?”
Suddenly, an open candy bag was thrust in front of her face. Startled, she took off her earphones and looked to her side to see the chubby girl smiling.
“Anything but the yellow ones.”
Heather looked inside to find colorful chocolate candies.
“...Thanks.”
She picked a red one.
Harry and Heather's new home was a two-story house in a district with many lower-income families. It was a post-war worker's housing project that had aged considerably but was perfect for living without interference. Harry had once lived in a picturesque suburban house among the middle class and above, where neighborly relations were very important for a comfortable life. Everyday greetings, chats, and occasional home parties to invite each other were the norm. At the time, he didn't find it too bothersome, but now, living as quietly as possible with minimal human contact was a relief. No one complained if the lawn grew wild or if there were no Christmas decorations.
After his daughter left for school, he changed into a denim shirt and jeans, opened his laptop on the kitchen table, and browsed job sites. He input his desired conditions and searched, but as expected, all the jobs that came up were manual labor. Disheartened, he sighed deeply, closed the laptop, and stood up. Cardboard boxes were still piled up around the room, making the already cramped space even smaller. He needed to unpack them quickly. One of the boxes labeled "Sharon's stuff" caught Harry's eye. He picked it up and carried it into Heather's room. Placing the box by the bed, he noticed a notebook on the side table. Flipping through it, his eyes stopped at the red letters on the last page.
Silent Hill
Harry immediately tore out the page. He went to his bedroom, took out a wooden box from the top shelf, and placed it on the bed. Inside, with a lid engraved with a strange circular emblem and incantation-like words, were randomly placed scraps of paper. He took out a yellow envelope and added the page from Heather's notebook. Every piece of paper in the envelope was marked with the words "Silent Hill" in his daughter's handwriting. He wanted to keep her as far away as possible from those dreadful memories lurking in her subconscious. With that in mind, he had been fervently protecting her from all dangers. Sometimes, there was no room to choose means. However, he knew that one day she would remember her childhood and learn the whole truth, a day when he might no longer be able to protect her. He had been troubled by what to do when that time came. He picked up an old notebook from the box and flipped through the pages. The pages were falling out due to its age, and many pages had hand-drawn symbols identical to those on the lid. Some were crossed out with X marks, others circled in red, but the mysterious circular patterns unsettled Harry. Something slipped out from between the notebook pages and fell to the floor. He picked it up—it was a map. It was of a mining town in West Virginia that had once flourished but turned into ruins after a great fire in 1974—Silent Hill.
Before he had to use the alias Harry Mason and lived as Christopher Da Silva, he had lived happily with his wife Rose and adopted daughter Sharon. Sharon had often said strange things since she was little, but otherwise, she was a normal, lovable girl whom he and his wife adored. However, the family's fate changed the year Sharon turned nine. She started to repeatedly mumble "Silent Hill" as if possessed and wandered around at night, worrying her parents. But upon waking, she remembered nothing. Troubled by Sharon's strange behavior, Rose decided to go to Silent Hill, thinking it might reveal the cause of her emotional instability. And so, the mother and daughter headed to that town in West Virginia together.
Returning the notebook and map to the wooden box, Harry glanced at a white envelope labeled "To Sharon" and a mysterious round metal plate, then gently closed the lid.
He composed himself and began to unpack the boxes into the closet and shelves, aiming to create a more comfortable space before Heather came home. If they could settle into their new home and recognize it as a cozy place for just the two of them, Heather's nightmares would gradually diminish. Even when she was still Sharon, Heather had often dreamt about Silent Hill, but since she returned alone from the trip with her mother, the nightmares had become less frequent but more terrifying. It had been nearly nine years, yet his wife was still missing.
Taking a framed photo from the box, Harry placed it on the shelf in front of the large mirror. He smiled slightly at the picture of the three of them. Eight-year-old Sharon, proud of her long black hair. Rose, with her beautiful short blonde hair giving an intelligent impression. And himself, smiling happily between them. This photo was taken before his wife and daughter left, but since then, it felt like time had stopped for Harry. However, looking at his reflection in the mirror, he was forcibly reminded of the passing years. He looked very different from the man in the photo, with white hair and a face lined with many wrinkles. Sharon—no, Heather had grown up wonderfully and was now eighteen. Yet, he hadn't seen her carefree smile for a long time. Both their smiles were always awkward and unnatural.
"Rose, where did you go, leaving Sharon behind?"
Speaking to the photo of his wife, Harry felt a crushing loneliness. He wanted to see her. How could he see her again?
"If only you were here..."
Holding back his emotions, the memory of six years ago vividly returned.
The Da Silva family had lived in a sophisticated white house. Standing in front of the large mirror in the living room, as Christopher, he called out to the photo of his wife.
"If only you..."
Years had passed since his wife and daughter went missing after going to Silent Hill. He had waited, believing they would return. Of course, he had continued his own search using every possible means. Yet, he found no clues, and the days were filled with anxiety and despair.
"Rose, Sharon... I want to see you."
He gently stroked the glass over the framed photo of his smiling wife and daughter with his finger. At that moment,
"Christopher."
He heard his wife's voice. Was it his imagination? He raised his head to find the mirror in front of him completely fogged up. But soon, he realized it wasn't fog. The background reflected in the mirror was not the living room but a townscape shrouded in mist, with fine ash continuously falling.
"Christopher."
He heard it again. It wasn't a hallucination. It was definitely Rose's voice. She was calling him.
"Rose—"
He shouted in response, and his wife appeared from the mist. Rose stood behind him in the mirror, looking at him with her beautiful blue eyes. He had longed to see her! He reached out, but the mirror blocked him, and he couldn't touch her. Still, in the mirror, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind. He could feel the warmth of her embrace and turned around, but no one was there. However, when he looked back at the mirror, Rose was still there. Hesitantly, he placed his hand over her hand on his shoulder. He could feel the softness and warmth of her small hand.
"I've been searching for you all this time. Without you, I feel like I've lost half of myself."
"I know. I'm sorry."
Rose's eyes glistened with tears.
"There isn't much time. Listen to me."
"I'll come and save you right now. Where are you? Are you in Silent Hill?"
"It's impossible."
She sharply rejected his desperate plea.
"I'm trapped here and I can't leave. What you need to do is to protect our daughter."
"Why can't you come back?"
"I found a seal to leave the town, but it was only half of it. So, only one of us, either Sharon or I, could return... There was no other choice. If you still love me, protect Sharon. That's all I ask."
He couldn't immediately grasp her words. What did she mean? Only Sharon came back? Protecting Sharon was a given as her father, especially if it was Rose's request. But the fear that he might never see his wife again sent a shiver down his spine. He wanted to drop everything and go save her. However, if Sharon returned, there was no one else to protect her. Torn between his feelings, he could only mutter a single word.
"I love you..."
"Soon, they'll come for her. They need Sharon. Don't let them take her. Promise me you'll protect our daughter no matter what."
Rose's earnest gaze pierced through him.
"I understand. I promise. I'll protect Sharon."
Hearing his answer, she smiled softly with relief and lowered her hands from his shoulders. In the next moment, he realized his wife was leaving.
"Rose, don't go! Wait—"
His voice calling out to stop her was in vain, as she faded into the mist.
"Goodbye, my love..."
"I'll find you someday. Once Sharon is safe, I'll come for you!"
Eventually, she disappeared, and the misty scenery beyond the mirror vanished.
"—Rose."
He stood stunned in front of the mirror for a while. Was it an illusion? He looked around the room, feeling bewildered. The background was the familiar living room with white walls. Then—
"Daddy?"
Hearing a voice behind him, he turned around quickly. A girl was lying on the white sofa.
"Sharon?"
She had grown a bit since leaving, but it was undoubtedly his beloved daughter. She slowly sat up, looking at him with a frightened face.
"Oh, Sharon—"
He rushed to her and held her cheeks in his hands.
"It's alright now."
"Daddy... I don't remember anything."
Trying to comfort his bewildered daughter, he brushed her bangs aside and gently kissed her forehead.
"Don't worry, honey. You were in an accident."
"Where's Mommy?"
The unexpected question left him at a loss for words.
"Where's Mommy?"
"Mommy... she saved you and... left."
He said, hugging Sharon tightly. His precious daughter had come back to him――. He didn't fully understand what Rose meant by the "seal," but he did know that she had risked everything to return their daughter to him. From now on, he would protect Sharon at all costs. If he didn't keep his promise to Rose, he would never be able to rescue her. Driven by a strong sense of duty, he tightened his embrace on Sharon. At that moment, something fell from her hand. On the floor lay a round metal plate, about 10 centimeters in diameter, intricately and delicately engraved.
And so, the days of father and daughter living together began.
New high school. New classroom. New classmates. Feeling out of place, Heather sat at the back. A middle-aged black woman, the teacher, clapped her hands to quiet the students.
"Did everyone have a nice Christmas break? Now that the new year has begun, let’s start fresh and work hard. Before we begin the lesson, we have a new student to introduce."
The teacher checked the attendance book and called out a name.
"Heather Mason, please introduce yourself to the class."
Reluctantly, she stood up and glanced around the classroom. All eyes were on her.
"My name is Heather. I recently moved to this town."
After saying just that, she sat down. The teacher, unsatisfied, prompted her, "Is that all? Surely, there’s more you can share. Tell us about your story."
My story? I don’t have any reason to share it with strangers. Heather stood up again, shrugging.
"What do you want to know? This isn’t a third-grade gathering where you ask about favorite singers, foods, or hobbies, right?"
The teacher raised an eyebrow but said nothing. At that moment, a girl in the class spoke up.
"That outfit—is it from a charity donation?"
The girl, dressed in a flashy designer dress, was surrounded by giggling friends. Others in the class smirked or chuckled.
Touching the white vest that was a birthday gift from her father, Heather suppressed her anger and began to speak.
"Alright. How about this? This is my fifth school since I was eleven. So, I’m used to transferring. You don’t need to remember my name because I won’t bother to remember yours. No need to make friends or talk to me. I don’t use Facebook, Twitter, or have a blog. Seems like this place is full of people who can’t think for themselves and need to belong to some category—whether it’s the high-and-mighty princess, the soft-hearted pretty boys, the nerds lost in their own world, the wannabe rappers, the hardcore goths, and so on. I’m not interested in any of you, and I don’t care what you think of me. Besides, I’ll be transferring again soon anyway."
Heather asked the teacher, "Is that enough?"
The classroom fell silent. Some students were stunned, while others looked at her with admiration. The teacher awkwardly smiled and simply said, "Thank you, Heather." Heather sat down and took a small breath. After saying something so harsh at the start, no one would bother her. She could quietly blend in like air from now on.
The teacher cleared her throat and opened the attendance book again.
"Next, another transfer student… Vincent Cooper."
Vincent, a boy sitting a couple of rows away from Heather, had slightly wavy, medium-length black hair and striking black eyes. When called, he shrugged and spoke in a troubled tone.
"Gee, how can I follow that introduction?"
His playful attitude made the class laugh, easing the tension in the room.
During the break, the hallway was crowded with students moving between classes. For Heather, on her first day, the school was a giant maze. Where was her next class? While walking and glaring at the timetable and school map she had just received, she realized the bell had rung, and she was alone in the hallway. Surprised at how wide and empty the corridor seemed, she felt a sudden unease.
Something's wrong.
Although she couldn’t explain it clearly, the ceiling, walls, floor, doors, fluorescent lights, and lockers seemed somehow aged. Feeling anxious, Heather slowed her pace and moved cautiously. Noticing a noisy nearby classroom, she approached quietly. Peeking through the door's glass window, she saw a group of seven or eight-year-old girls surrounding and bullying a black-haired girl in the center.
"Witch, witch! Alessa is a witch!"
Taunting in high-pitched voices, they pushed and bullied the girl in the middle.
Alessa?
Heather frowned. Though she heard the name for the first time, it felt strangely familiar. She peeked into the classroom across the hall and saw the same scene. The girl being bullied was the same long-haired girl from the previous room. Heather was confused. This was a public high school, not a private K-12 school, so seeing elementary school students in uniforms was odd. Checking the next classroom, she saw the same scene.
"Witch, witch! Alessa is a witch!"
The taunting, the malicious laughter, the hair pulling, and pushing Alessa continued. In the next classroom as well…
What’s going on?
As Heather hurried from classroom to classroom, her pace quickened, and her heart rate increased. When she reached the end of the hallway, a door suddenly opened in front of her, startling her. A woman, presumably a teacher, stood there dressed like a nun, with a peculiar circular pattern on her habit. Heather felt she had seen the pattern before, but before she could recall, the teacher’s sharp voice rang out.
"Alessa Gillespie, get into the classroom this instant!"
The teacher clearly addressed Heather. When Heather hesitated, she was slapped suddenly.
"Are you ignoring me? How dare you!"
Not only was she mistaken for someone else, but she was also unreasonably yelled at and hit. Heather couldn’t stay silent.
"Hey! What the hell are you doing?"
"Alessa, learn your lesson. Follow the teacher’s orders!"
"I’m not Alessa."
Despite saying that, Heather felt strange. Being called Alessa didn’t feel wrong. Her real name was Sharon, and she had changed her name with every move. Still, she had never used the name Alessa…
"Hurry up!"
The teacher, with a demonic expression, grabbed Heather’s arm, trying to force her into the classroom.
"Get the fuck off of me!"
Heather struggled and managed to break free. She turned on her heel and ran down the hallway. What was that? Had she unknowingly wandered into another school? Ridiculous. She had walked straight down this hallway. After running for a while, she noticed something strange. The hallway was too long. No matter how far she ran, she couldn’t reach the end. Exhausted, she stopped, placing her hands on her knees to catch her breath. As her breathing calmed, she slowly looked up and was shocked.
The surroundings were enveloped in darkness, and the passage ahead was no longer a school corridor. The gaping passage looked like a ruin. The walls were scorched, exposed rebar was twisted violently, and everything was rusted.
Heather was bewildered. Perhaps something unimaginable had happened while she was unaware. Had the school been struck by a disaster or bombed? But such an event would have made a huge noise or shock. She hadn’t noticed anything.
At that moment, something moved at the end of the passage. A fluorescent light hanging from the ceiling flickered and swayed, making a buzzing sound. From beyond that faint light, something was definitely approaching. Slowly but surely, it was coming closer.
What?
The figure walking on two legs had a human shape but was clearly abnormal. Heather squinted. The thing twisted its upper body strangely and dragged its feet. With each step, a disturbing sound of flesh scraping the floor was heard. The figure and the sound grew larger as the distance closed. When it came directly under the fluorescent light, its appearance became clear, and Heather froze.
No eyes, nose, or mouth. Not just that. No hair, ears, or arms. The arms weren’t missing; they seemed buried under the skin. The skin was raised as if the arms were crossed over the chest in a straitjacket, with ribs protruding. It was a grotesque upper body with an abnormal form.
Is this a continuation of the nightmare? Since last night, I’ve only seen terrifying monsters. The creature with the sword arm that split my father in two. The homeless old man with the hideous stitches on his face. And now this. Though I want to run away, my feet won’t move. If this is a dream, please let me wake up
Heather genuinely wished. Meanwhile, the grotesque being kept coming closer.
I need to run.
Her mind raced, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. The monster drew nearer, clearly visible now. Its skin looked burned, melted, and unnaturally textured. Terror coursed through her, and Heather mustered the strength to step back. One step at a time, she moved backward, her shoes crunching on scattered debris. The monster seemed to notice her, quickening its pace, making it only a matter of time before it caught up. Despite its eyeless face, Heather felt its gaze. Overwhelmed by fear, she turned sharply to run. At that moment, she collided forcefully with something.
"Are you okay?"
At that voice, Heather snapped back to reality. The person standing in front of her was Vincent, the other new transfer student.
"You’re quite strong despite being slim. Have you ever considered playing football? That tackle might actually work," he said with a smile, rubbing his arm. The surroundings had returned to the normal school corridor. When she looked back, the monster and the crumbling passage were gone. Heather couldn’t grasp what had happened and couldn’t respond.
"Hey, are you alright?"
Worried by Heather’s silence, Vincent’s face turned serious as he peered closely at her. Since she had never been this close to a boy before, she suddenly felt uncomfortable and avoided eye contact as she said, "What about you? What are you doing here?"
Her tone was curt, but Vincent didn’t seem offended; instead, he awkwardly scratched his head.
"I’m still not familiar with this school, so I got lost. Do you know where the math class is?"
"I don’t know. I got lost too," Heather replied briefly and started walking away. She wanted to leave this place as quickly as possible. What was that bizarre scene? Was it an optical illusion like when she was homeless?
As she began to descend the nearest stairs, she noticed Vincent following her.
"That introduction was something else. Did you do the same thing at your old school?"
Asked from behind, Heather replied curtly, "Probably."
"Wow. Did it work?"
"Mostly. But it doesn’t seem to have any effect on you."
"Well, maybe that’s because I’m different from everyone else. I’m not a goth, rapper, nerd, or even a suave guy."
"So, what do you think you are?"
Before she knew it, the two were walking side by side.
"A tall and handsome, average transfer student," he said with a smile.
Heather looked at Vincent with exasperation, but he seemed genuinely happy. Such an unguarded smile. Are all high school students like this?
"Tall is disqualified."
She replied, as Vincent was only slightly taller than Heather, who was 170 cm.
"That’s too harsh. Hey, how about we go together for some coffee?"
"Now? We gonna have class soon."
"Then, how about after school?"
Heather immediately regretted it. Talking to a stranger was against the rules she had with her father.
"I’ll pass."
"Why? We should get along as transfer students, Heather. Oh, is it okay if I call you Heather?"
She stopped and looked at Vincent. When she faced him properly, he was indeed a handsome young man. Feeling drawn to his dark eyes, she quickly looked away and firmly said with downcast eyes.
"You don’t have to remember my name. You heard my introduction, right? I don’t intend to be friends with anyone. Not even you, Vincent."
With that, she walked off quickly, opening the door to the stairwell and entering another building. While feeling Vincent’s gaze on her back, Heather was surprised to find she had remembered his name clearly.
As classes ended and students flowed out of the school, Heather blended into the crowd. When she stepped outside, the sky was blue, but the weather was oddly mixed with light snowflakes. Having completed her first day of school safely, she felt a sense of relief. If she could continue to be just one of the crowd and stay inconspicuous, that would be ideal. As she walked straight toward the bus stop, she noticed a man standing at the edge of the school grounds, furrowing her brow. It was the middle-aged man in the trench coat whom she had met before boarding the school bus this morning.
What is he doing here!?
When Heather hesitated and stopped, the man spotted her and their eyes met. Terrified by his familiar, smug wave, she quickly turned on her heel and started to head back into the school building. Vincent called out to her along the way, but she didn’t hear what he said. Heather was deeply shaken by the realization that the middle-aged man was lying in wait. He wasn’t just passing by. The conversation this morning had some purpose. What should she do?
Going against the flow of students heading home, she hurriedly entered the building's hallway. Glancing back repeatedly, she pulled out her phone from her pocket and quickly dialed a number.
The phone on the kitchen table rang, and Harry, who had been typing on his laptop, stood up. Grabbing the vibrating phone, he answered, and it was his daughter.
(Dad)
"Hey, Heather. Is school over? How was it?"
(School wasn’t a big problem, but... but...)
Sensing Heather’s unusual tone, Harry furrowed his brows.
"What’s wrong? Did something happen?"
(I think I’m being watched. What should I do?)
Hearing his daughter’s frightened voice, Harry was suddenly overcome with a shiver as if doused with cold water. A deep, unsettling fear took hold of him.
"...Okay. It’s best if you don’t come back here right away. There’s a risk that our home could be located. Let’s meet somewhere else. How about Central Square Mall?"
As he suggested this, Harry headed toward the entrance.
(Okay, I’ll wait at the hamburger shop in the mall. The place is called Happy Burger. We had lunch there before.)
"Got it, I’ll head there quickly."
Taking a jacket from the closet, Harry reached for the front door. However, the door handle was suddenly turned from the outside, making a rattling sound. He quickly pulled his hand back. Who is it? Have the pursuers already tracked him down? He stepped back and retreated to the back of the room.
(Dad, did they find out we’re in this city? Or is it someone you know?)
"No... No one should know."
Harry replied in a somewhat lowered voice.
"Don’t worry. I’ll see you soon at the mall."
(Love you, Dad)
"I love you too, sweetheart."
After hanging up, Harry hurriedly crossed the house. Were the pursuers already at the front door? They had only just moved to this city. His heart raced like a drum. He needed to quietly slip out through the back door and get to the mall. He had to meet Heather as soon as possible and keep her safe from danger.
As Harry quietly opened the back door, he widened his eyes in shock. His path was already blocked.
In the early afternoon, Central Square Mall was bustling with shoppers. At the tables in front of the Happy Burger in the food court, families and students were chatting while eating hamburgers and French fries. There was also a fat businessman who seemed to be enjoying a thick burger after work.
Heather sat on a nearby bench, nervously fiddling with her cell phone. She kept glancing at the escalator and the end of the passage, looking for her father. He should be arriving soon.
"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you,"
The sound of children singing made her look up. At one of the tables, it seemed a birthday party was taking place. A clown with a painted white face was bringing a large birthday cake.
"Happy birthday, dear Heather,"
Reacting to the lyrics, Heather looked at the children. Could it be a celebration for a girl with the same name as hers? A large cake was placed in front of a girl wearing a birthday hat and the fanciest outfit, and cheers erupted from the children. The cake, bordered with cream made to look like flowers, had "Happy Birthday Heather" written in colorful letters, with seven candles standing on top.
A seventh birthday—Heather wondered if she had been celebrated like this when she turned seven. For her, who had no memory of that time, it was all darkness. Even after she turned eleven, when her memory started, she never had a party with friends. Before that, she never made friends. Even if she got close to someone, she would soon part ways and couldn't keep in touch through email or inform them of her new address, so she couldn't maintain any relationships. She used to envy a normal life, but now she had grown used to solitude and no longer felt envious. Her birthday was celebrated by her father. He was always there to protect her. That was enough. Heather told herself this as she stroked the white vest she wore under her coat, a birthday present from her father.
Dad, where are you?
Heather's anxiety grew with her father's delayed arrival. Checking her phone repeatedly showed no new messages or calls. Gradually, a sense of impatience gnawed at her nerves. The cries of a baby somewhere, the angry voice of a mother scolding her child, the pointless chatter of students, the classical music being played on the makeshift stage that seemed out of place, the sound of someone pulling a chair roughly, the clattering noise of dishes, and the mechanical greetings of shop employees—all these sounds assailed her, making her want to cover her ears.
Dad, hurry up.
To ease her unease, Heather covered her face with her hands for a while, then looked up. Long strings extended from the birthday party table, tied to several heart-shaped, pale pink balloons that floated, bearing the words "Congratulations Heather." If she had been celebrated eleven years ago, there might have been many balloons with "Congratulations Sharon" written on them. Back then, she might have had a mother and friends, and could have laughed innocently without fear. If only she could remember those happy times—
A breeze seemed to make the balloons sway and slowly spin. On the other side, similar words were written. She traced the words on the balloons with her eyes absentmindedly.
Congratulations... Alessa?
She blinked and read the words again. No matter how many times she checked, the balloons now read "Alessa" instead of "Heather." A chill ran down Heather's spine. Moving her gaze to the birthday cake, she saw that it also read "Alessa" in the cream. Stunned, she looked around the food court.
Something's wrong. Something's different.
The feeling was similar to what she had felt in the school corridor. It was the same place, but there was a sense of wrongness. The melody of the violin played by the string quartet on the stage turned into dissonance, grating on her ears. Heather winced and glanced at the fat businessman nearby. He was still eating his hamburger, but his fingers were stained red. She thought it was ketchup, but the red color was unnaturally dark. His mouth, too, was smeared with the same color. The meat pulled from the bun wasn't a patty made of ground meat. It stretched like raw meat, dripping red liquid. The children at the birthday party also seemed strange. Their faces were an unhealthy pale color, and they were ravenously biting into raw meat hamburgers, making slurping sounds as they wiped the dark red blood from their mouths with the backs of their hands.
What... the hell is this?
Heather's heart began to race. The businessman smiled at her, showing his blood-stained teeth. The children also turned their eyes to her, laughing with blood-covered faces. Even the clown, with his sinister grin, waved at her.
Why are they all looking at me?
Panicking, Heather desperately searched for her father. Just then, she caught sight of a figure coming up the elevator. A middle-aged man in a dark green hat and a shabby trench coat. It was that man! He had followed her all the way here!
Half in a panic, Heather stood up, looking for an escape route. As she stepped forward, the clown suddenly jumped out from the side, blocking her path. His eyes, heavily lined with black makeup, were bloodshot and his thick lips were smeared with blood. Horrified by his terrifying face, Heather pushed the clown away and ran desperately. She needed a place to hide. Looking back, she saw the trench coat man recognizing her and shouting, "Sharon—wait!"
Being called by her real name made her shiver even more.
He knows my real name. He's a pursuer. He's here for me.
Heather ran across the food court and spotted a security guard walking down the passage.
"Help me, please!"
Clutching at straws, she called out to the guard from behind. However, when he turned around, she nearly collapsed in shock. The guard's face had no eyes, nose, or mouth, only grotesque scars stitched in a jagged pattern. It was just like the homeless old man from that morning. Overwhelmed by the shock, Heather didn't think twice and slipped through the red door labeled "Happy Burger Employee Entrance" nearby. She just wanted to escape from those who threatened her.
She closed the door and tried to steady her breathing. Although she had managed to find temporary refuge, she knew she wasn't safe. That man would surely follow her. She needed to find a deeper place to hide, so Heather continued down the corridor. After walking a bit, she found herself in the kitchen of Happy Burger. Several male staff members were busily preparing hamburgers. Realizing it wasn't good for her to be there, she attempted to quickly pass through, but then she noticed something strange about the kitchen. Large chunks of meat hanging from the ceiling made it resemble a meat locker at a slaughterhouse. Heather instinctively stopped and squinted, immediately regretting it. What she had thought were meat chunks were actually half-naked humans hung upside down, still alive. A burly man wielding a sharp butcher knife approached, slicing flesh from their soft bellies. Blood gushed out, exposing their organs, and the muffled screams of the men, their faces covered with plastic bags, could barely be heard. The butcher casually placed the meat slices on the counter, where another man skillfully sandwiched them into buns and wrapped them in paper. Was this what the fat businessman had been eating earlier? Feeling nauseous, Heather quickly pressed a hand to her mouth and fled the scene.
Desperately trying to keep her composure, she made it to an empty staircase. Such a thing couldn't possibly be real. She hurriedly descended the stairs, reaching a landing, and pressed the buttons on her cellphone with trembling hands.
"Dad? Dad? Please, pick up!"
There was no signal; the phone wouldn't connect. Only white noise reached her ears, no dial tone. At that moment, she heard footsteps coming down the stairs behind her.
"Sharon, wait!"
The middle-aged man's voice called out, and Heather hastily put away her phone and quickened her pace. She dashed down the stairs, trying to shake him off, but ended up in a storage room. Used decorations and cleaning supplies were scattered around, and it seemed there was no exit. When she saw the man's shadow, she grabbed a nearby iron pipe. She had to defend herself.
The man finally reached the bottom of the stairs and began approaching her slowly. Heather steeled herself, holding the iron pipe at the ready.
"Don't come any closer!"
"Calm down. It's going to be alright."
The man in the trench coat took off his hat and spoke soothingly.
"How can anything be alright? Who are you?"
"I'm Douglas Cartland. I'm a private investigator."
He raised his hands to show he was unarmed. At least he appeared to be human, not a monster. Still, she couldn't let her guard down. Heather tightened her grip on the iron pipe.
"What do you want? Why have you been following me?"
"I was hired to find a girl named Sharon. That's you."
"No, my name isn't Sharon!"
"Don't play dumb with me. I know. Your real name is Sharon Da Silva. I've been tracking you and your father ever since you left Portland. You may have evaded the police, but I found you."
Douglas continued to approach. Heather took a step back each time he stepped forward.
"What happened in Portland was... self-defense. My dad isn't guilty."
"I don't care who your father killed. I'm here to help you."
Heather was taken aback by Douglas's unexpected offer.
"Help me? Why?"
"The group that hired me to find you is called the Order of Valtiel. I didn't understand at first, but their target is you, not your father."
"I don't understand what you're saying."
"From what I've researched, the Order of Valtiel is a cult of fanatical believers. They preach about the end of the world and the final judgment, spreading fear with their teachings."
As he explained, Douglas continued to inch closer.
"Your father has been on the run with you to keep you from being captured by them."
"That's a lie!"
Heather was confused. Her father had killed to protect her in Portland. It was undoubtedly self-defense. Since then, they had been on the run to ensure her safety. The idea that someone other than the police was after them was news to her. And that she was the target—she couldn't believe it.
"You might not know, but they've already found out where you are. I unwittingly informed them. They'll be here soon."
Douglas's eyes were serious, but Heather couldn't trust the absurd story of a stranger. As she kept backing away, her foot hit something. Looking over her shoulder, she saw it was a fence, a dead end. She realized she was completely trapped.
What should I do?
Just as she was about to swing the iron pipe, she noticed a handle on the side of the fence. Beyond it was a small room.
An elevator
"Sharon, if you stay here, you'll be captured. You need to go now."
"I don't need you to tell me that!"
With that, Heather grabbed the handle, slid the fence open, and slipped into the elevator. She closed the door just as Douglas rushed toward her.
"Your father has been lying to you."
"Shut up!"
Heather struck the door with the iron pipe, causing Douglas to leap back.
"My dad never lies!"
"What of your past memories?"
"When I was little, I was in a car accident. My mom died, and I lost my memory. So, I don't remember anything!"
Heather struggled to control herself. She felt like her entire life, which she had endured quietly, was being completely invalidated. How could this stranger, whom she had never met, understand the bond she had with her father? Did he understand what it was like to live every day trying not to stand out, holding her breath?
"Losing your memory in an car accident? That's not true. You wandered into Silent Hill."
Silent Hill?
The name Douglas mentioned made Heather start. Something that had been smoldering in the back of her mind for a long time began to stir. It was a name she had heard many times in her nightmares. Whenever her father mentioned Silent Hill, he would always say, "Never go there," and then fall silent. Could her lost past be deeply connected to that place?
"But your mother saved you and brought you back to your father. Now, the cult is desperately trying to reclaim you. If you don't believe me, you can confirm it with your father."
The fluorescent light behind Douglas flickered and buzzed. The alternating light and darkness created eerie shadows. At first, Heather thought it was Douglas's shadow, but it kept growing even though he wasn't moving. She squinted and stared behind the detective. Douglas noticed her gaze and turned around just in time to see—
A monster with hands like swords appeared and slashed its right arm down. Heather screamed in terror. Douglas instinctively raised his left hand to protect his face, but the sharp blade mercilessly severed all his fingers except for his thumb. Blood spurted from the wounds. Heather quickly opened the fence and pulled the stumbling detective into the elevator. She hurriedly closed the door and pressed the button for the lowest floor. Immediately after, the monster's weaponized arm swung again, but it only made a grating metallic noise. The fence had protected them, allowing Heather and Douglas to narrowly escape the attack. The creature's form quickly vanished from sight as the elevator descended. The dented fence bore testament to the impact. Heather shuddered at the thought of what could have happened if they had been hit directly.
"Damn it!"
Douglas clutched his injured hand, writhing in pain. Heather took a handkerchief from her pocket and wrapped it around his left hand. The bleeding was severe, so it wouldn’t do much to stop it, but it was better than nothing.
"Tell me, who am I?"
"What they want is for you to return to Silent Hill. It seems you originally came from there. That's all I know."
I... I'm from Silent Hill? Does that mean I was born in that town?
While tying the handkerchief, Heather's thoughts raced. But with so many conflicting pieces of information and emotions, she couldn't organize her thoughts. The pastel-colored handkerchief quickly became soaked in crimson.
"We need to get you to a hospital immediately."
"...Yeah."
Douglas nodded weakly, battling the intense pain.
The elevator continued to descend deeper and deeper. How far down would it go? Just as an indescribable unease took hold, a tremendous crashing sound echoed from above, and the entire elevator shook violently. Startled, Heather looked up to see the ceiling buckling. She frowned. Something was peering down at them through the mesh grille.
The monster!
Heather was speechless at the horrifying reality in front of her. The same creature had somehow forced its way through the closed door and was now dropping down towards the elevator from above. Its sword-like arm repeatedly struck the ceiling, bending the mesh. There was no escape in the confined elevator. If it got in, she would be sliced in half just like her father in her dreams. Douglas, too, had gone pale. Praying desperately that this was just a nightmare, she gripped her iron pipe tighter and looked up at the ceiling. The relentless pounding continued until finally, a sharp blade pierced through the mesh, creating a large hole. The creature was coming down! Heather closed her eyes as a shudder ran through her body.
In the next moment, the elevator jolted violently, throwing Heather into the corner. The iron pipe clattered to the floor. When she looked up, the elevator had stopped moving. They had reached the lowest floor. The creature that had been above them was nowhere to be seen. It must have been thrown off by the impact of the stop. She didn't understand what had happened, but she knew they needed to get out quickly. She pressed the control button, and the doors opened at an agonizingly slow pace. Heather tumbled out and turned to see Douglas, grimacing in pain, struggling to stand. She hesitated for a moment but then hurried back into the elevator to help him.
"Are you okay?"
"Fuck, my hand..."
Heather put her arm around Douglas's back and helped him up. Despite his severe hand injury, he was fortunate that his legs were unscathed. Once on his feet, he could walk normally.
"What was that thing?"
"It must be connected to you."
Heather was bewildered by his response.
"...That's fucking ridiculous."
"No, it has to be. It might have come from the dark world to bring you back... I never believed such nonsense, but seeing it now, I'm bewildered. That such a creature could exist."
If Douglas was saying that, then maybe this wasn't a dream. Heather stepped out of the elevator first, waiting for the detective to follow. He paused before stepping out, giving Heather a reassuring smile.
"Don't worry. I'll be your strength—"
Douglas's words were abruptly cut off. Heather blinked, not understanding what had happened at first. But when she saw the sinister blade protruding from his chest, she understood everything. As a pool of red blood spread across the floor, she cautiously looked up. With wide eyes and an open mouth, Douglas trembled violently. Tracing the arm that impaled him, she saw the monster from before in the hole in the ceiling. Though it had no eyes, Heather felt their gazes lock. As she stood stunned, Douglas's body was lifted and dragged up through the ceiling hole. Coming to her senses, she quickly closed the elevator gate and ran away at full speed. She didn't know where she was or where she was headed, but she kept running through the dimly lit hallway. The corridor, lined with bare concrete walls, had steam bursting from exposed pipes at intervals. She tried every doorknob she saw, but all the doors were locked. Though she couldn't see anything in the darkness, she felt the monster pursuing her, amplifying her fear.
Somebody, help me
The corridor stretched straight ahead, making it impossible to evade her pursuer by turning off. She found another door and tried the knob, but it just rattled without budging. The repeated failures drove Heather to the brink of despair. Noticing a red door to her right, she grabbed the knob and prayed.
Please, open!
Feeling a small click, she pushed the door open and dove inside. It was a small storage room crammed with cleaning supplies, equipment, and trash cans. Looking around for a place to hide, Heather ducked behind a cleaning cart. In the narrow space, she crouched down and tried to calm her breathing. The room was dimly lit by the flickering flames from a makeshift incinerator at the back. As her breathing steadied, she strained to listen but heard nothing except the sound of a ventilation fan. Perhaps the monster hadn't followed her. Then, she felt a slimy sensation on her hands and was startled. Though she couldn't see well in the dark, she realized her coat was wet.
Douglas's blood?
Overcome with revulsion, she hurriedly took off her coat. She wiped her wet hands on the inside of the coat and kicked it away like something filthy. An eerie silence filled the room. What should she do next? Staying here wouldn’t improve her situation. She needed to confirm if what Douglas said was true by talking to her father. Heather took out her cell phone and opened the flip. The faint artificial light from the screen gave her a bit of comfort. But there were no missed calls from her father. He should have arrived at the mall long ago. Feeling crushed by loneliness and anxiety, tears ran down her cheeks.
"Dad..."
Just as she sobbed and wiped her tears with the back of her hand, the door to the room suddenly opened, and someone entered.
Who?
The cleaning cart blocked her view of the entrance. The incinerator's flames caught her eye, making her think she could be thrown into it if caught. She decided to act and stood up, pushing the figure aside forcefully.
"Hey! What are you doing here?"
It was a janitor with a mop, but Heather didn't stop. She ran through the door, back into the corridor, and continued running frantically. She reached a staircase at the end of the hallway, dashed up the steps, and pushed open a heavy iron door on the landing.
Suddenly blinded by a flood of light, Heather squinted.
"Miss, you can't be here. Step outside the tape."
A police officer approached her, guiding her towards the yellow crime scene tape. Looking around in a daze, she realized she was in the parking lot behind the mall. The sky had darkened without her noticing. Several police cars and an ambulance were parked nearby, the red and blue flashing lights glaringly bright. On the other side of the tape, a crowd of onlookers had gathered.
What happened?
Did someone report seeing the monster to the police? Unable to comprehend the situation, Heather ducked under the tape. Suddenly, there was a commotion behind her, and she turned around. Paramedics were pushing a stretcher out of the mall. Someone lay on it, covered entirely by a white sheet. Heather was horrified to see the left arm dangling from the stretcher—four fingers were severed, with only the thumb remaining. The khaki-colored, worn-out sleeve matched the trench coat Douglas had been wearing.
A middle-aged man in a black coat, who seemed to be a detective, stopped the stretcher.
"Do we have anything to identify the victim?"
"This was in his pocket."
A paramedic handed him a wallet in a plastic bag, and the detective, wearing gloves, began checking its contents.
"According to the ID, his name is Douglas Cartland. He's a private detective."
So, it was Douglas lying under that white sheet. After being dragged out of the elevator by that monster, he had been killed. Heather felt her entire body tremble. She hugged herself tightly, but the shaking wouldn't stop. Just then, a sharp-looking young Black man emerged from the mall and spoke to the detective examining the wallet.
"Detective Santini, the janitor found this."
Heather gasped when she saw what he was holding.
That's mine...
A maroon and navy checkered duffle coat. No doubt about it. It was the one she had discarded in the storage room earlier.
"It seems to have a significant amount of blood on it."
As the young man explained, Detective Santini stroked his chin and remarked while staring at the duffle coat.
"Hmm. Given the amount, it's possible the person was splattered with blood from close range. Detective Cable, get this to forensics immediately and have them check whose blood it is."
Santini then turned his attention back to Douglas's wallet, pulling out a photograph.
"There's a name written on the back. Heather Mason? Sharon Da Silva? Is this the name of the girl in the photo? Which one is it? In any case, she might know something about this murder. We need to talk to her."
"Understood. I'll confirm the girl's whereabouts immediately."
Detective Cable nodded.
This is bad.
Heather quietly moved away from the crime scene and the crowd of onlookers, scanning her surroundings. None of the officers or detectives seemed to have noticed her yet. Just as she was about to slip away, she accidentally bumped into someone and hurriedly apologized, "Sorry."
"Heather?"
Startled, she turned around to see Vincent standing there.
"Vincent?"
"Oh, you remember me."
He gave her a shy smile. For some reason, when Vincent smiled at her, Heather felt a strange mix of irritation and a ticklish sensation. But right now, all she wanted was to get away from this place. However, Vincent, unaware of her situation, continued talking.
"There was a murder, it seems. Did you see them carrying out the body?"
"Yeah... well..."
Noticing her distress, Vincent suddenly looked concerned.
"Hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?"
"Not really, but..."
Heather answered briefly and started running out of the parking lot.
Once she was out of the mall grounds, she heard footsteps behind her and, feeling a jolt of anxiety, turned around. She thought it might be a detective, but it was Vincent who had followed her.
"Heather, did something happen?"
"Sorry, I can't talk about it."
"I’m not the type to spill secrets. You can tell me anything."
"It's not about you; I just can't explain it. I don't even know what's going on myself."
As they walked down the sidewalk together, Heather pulled out her cellphone. Since agreeing to meet at the mall after school, she hadn't been able to reach her father, and she was worried sick. She listened anxiously to the ringing tone, but it switched to voicemail, and she sighed in disappointment.
"Dad, please call me when you get this message. Please."
She took a deep breath and closed the phone. What on earth had happened? Heather was overwhelmed with anxiety. Vincent, walking beside her, took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.
"Aren't you cold? Where's your coat?"
Without answering his question, Heather simply said, "Thanks." She hadn’t felt the cold at all, probably due to the numbing fear she had experienced. It wasn’t until Vincent mentioned it that she realized she was shivering. The oversized olive-colored coat enveloped her completely, and the lingering warmth from Vincent's body brought a small measure of comfort to Heather's troubled heart.
Under the streetlights, the two walked in silence. Normally, she wouldn't spend time like this with a classmate, but after such a terrifying event and with her father out of contact, she was genuinely grateful and relieved to have someone beside her. The occasional gust of wind ruffled her hair, and she clutched Vincent's coat tightly. The awkward silence between them felt oddly refreshing to Heather.
The sidewalk was deserted, but on the overpass across the street, she saw a jogger. When Heather glanced at the runner, she was startled to see another figure further in the background. A group of men in black stood on the overpass, looking down at her. They were the ones who had chased her in her nightmare. Could they have stepped out of the dream? Douglas had said that the monsters were connected to her, that they might have come from the dark world...
"Heather?"
Vincent's voice snapped her back to reality. Seeing his dark eyes fixed on her, she instinctively asked, "Do you see that?"
"See what? The jogger? Something wrong with him?"
Following her gaze, Vincent answered with a puzzled look. He couldn’t see the men in black. Heather let out a weak laugh and shook her head.
"Never mind. I guess I'm just seeing things."
Vincent smiled, trying to cheer her up.
"It was your first day at a new school, right? You’re probably just tired. A burger would cheer you up. How about we go grab something to eat?"
A burger. The image of the raw meat burger she had seen at the mall flashed through her mind, and she suddenly felt sick.
"Sorry, I don't think I have the appetite. I just wanna head straight home."
As soon as they reached the bus stop, a bus arrived almost immediately. Heather got on, and Vincent followed her.
"Are you heading in the same direction?"
Surprised, Heather asked, and he scratched his head sheepishly.
"Not really... but I'll walk you home. You’re not feeling well, right?"
His mischievous smile made Heather smile a little too. The bus was mostly empty, with only about five other passengers. An old man, who looked homeless, sat in the front seat, mumbling to himself. Heather and Vincent chose seats near the exit and sat down. Heather pulled out her cellphone again and dialed Harry's number, but once more, all she got was the artificial voice of the voicemail.
"Dad, it's me. Why can't I reach you? Please, when you hear this, call me right away."
Closing her cell phone, Vincent said, "Maybe battery's dead?"
Heather lowered her gaze to the phone in her hand and muttered softly,
"I hope that's all it is."
"So, where's your house?"
When Vincent asked, she distractedly replied, "About two blocks from here."
"I don't mean where you're living now. Where are you from?"
The question made her tense up. One of the rules her father had set was never to reveal any personal details to others. So, she decided to answer vaguely.
"Nowhere in particular. My dad and I have always been moving around. We're kind of like drifters. You?"
"I think I'm more of a person with roots," Vincent answered with a laugh. "Family, traditions, church... I belong to something. Though, you could also say I'm tied down by it."
"Maybe it's actually good to have something to lean on."
Heather confessed quietly. She had looked down on those who tried to fit into molds during school introductions, but deep down, it was her way of justifying living a life where she didn't belong to any category. The only place she had to return to now was her father. She had no hometown, no place of memories—. As soon as she thought that, the name "Silent Hill" floated to the corner of her mind, and once again, her heart was disturbed. To cover her confusion, she asked Vincent another question.
"Why did you move to this town?"
"Because of my parents' work. This is the first time I've lived away from my hometown."
"Really? How do you feel about it?"
"I think I'll come to like it here, but I probably won't be here for long."
"Why not?"
"We're planning to go back once my mother's work is done, and it looks like it might be sooner than expected."
At that moment, a homeless man near the driver's seat took something out of the box he was holding—a pink rabbit plushie? Heather thought for a moment, and then realized it was the same character as the plushie from the amusement park in her nightmare. The one that had turned its head to look at her when she was hiding behind the shooting gallery. Could that amusement park actually exist? Her head started to spin again, and she pressed her fingers to her temples, then asked Vincent, "Hey, do you think there's a difference between dreams and reality?"
"Oh, come on, is that what us teenagers should be talking about on a bus?"
Vincent burst out laughing, holding his stomach in amusement.
"Don't you have any lighter topics like your favorite singer or Facebook or something?"
"I'm not interested in Facebook. Do you use it?"
"No. Honestly, I don't understand what's so fun about it."
He shrugged his shoulders.
"But everyone is on it. Everyone's obsessed with Facebook, Twitter, and social medias. Is connecting online really that important?"
Heather's lament was met with a sincere look from Vincent.
"At least for me, I don't want to get involved. My life is already complicated enough without the invisible web of the internet that's spread all over the world."
Vincent paused, then for a moment, his eyes seemed distant. But he quickly turned back to Heather.
"My grandfather might be able to answer your question. He's thought about stuff like that so much he's become a real eccentric."
"I feel like I'm going crazy too."
"No, my grandfather is seriously insane. He's locked up in a solitary cell at the hospital in our hometown, muttering his theories all the time. 'There are no real dreams. There is only reality, endlessly piling up. Some see monsters, while others only see human forms'... something like that."
Vincent tried to mimic his grandfather's raspy voice in a playful tone, but Heather couldn't dismiss his words as mere nonsense. In fact, she found herself empathizing.
"Is that why he's in the hospital? Was it so bad that they had to lock him up?"
Vincent shifted his gaze to the homeless old man sitting in the seat ahead, watching him talk to the plushie with a delighted expression. The look in his eyes seemed to say, "He's just like my grandfather."
"...It was my mother who put him in the hospital."
"Your mother?"
"Well, she's a very domineering person, and no one can defy her."
A shadow passed over Vincent's face. Even someone as cheerful as him might have secrets and troubles he couldn't share with anyone.
"Crazy people don't really see that they're crazy. The voices and visions they perceive, which others can't hear or see, are real to them. Just because we don't feel them doesn't mean we can deny their reality. What you see is your reality, and what I see is mine. Right?"
Heather found herself liking Vincent more. He was the first person of her generation she could talk to about such topics. She felt a connection with him and was genuinely happy to have this conversation.
"I see... so depending on how you look at it, there might be no difference between dreams and reality."
Heather responded quietly, staring at the pink rabbit plushie the homeless man was playing with.
Eventually, the bus arrived at their stop, and Heather and Vincent stood up to get off. As the bus came to a stop, the old man dropped the rabbit, and it rolled over to them. Heather picked it up, gently brushed off the dust, and handed it back to the old man.
"Here you go."
The man gratefully took the rabbit and hugged it tightly to his chest. Then, he looked up at Heather and thanked her.
"Thank you, Alessa."
At school, that strange incident had happened too—a scary female teacher had called her that. Heather was taken aback, but she pretended not to notice and got off the bus with Vincent. As soon as Heather stepped off the bus, the frigid night air made her shiver. Snowflakes were lightly falling.
The two of them walked along a desolate street lined with vacant lots and dilapidated houses. In the distance, the sound of a police siren could be heard.
"I hate my reality..."
The words slipped out of Heather's mouth, reflecting her true feelings. She wished she could experience the simple pleasures of being an ordinary girl, like deciding what clothes to wear for the day, talking about a boy she liked with her best friend, or going on a date to a movie theater or cafe on her day off. She knew it was an impossible wish. But she had been suppressing even that small hope for years. How long would she have to continue living like this? Would it last forever? Even when she pressed her father for answers, he always remained silent and never gave her any.
"Is there anyone who actually likes their reality? But, I don't dislike this moment." Heather responded to Vincent's words.
"What do you mean?"
"Because I'm walking alongside you, and... well... you're cute..."
He scratched his nose in embarrassment, and Heather couldn't help but burst out laughing.
"Wait, you trying to flirt with me? Do you think that's going to work?"
"Well, it's the first time I've said something like this to a girl... So, did it work?"
The smile Vincent directed at her touched her heart more than any ordinary words could. Heather felt that way but decided to play it off with a laugh. "I'll keep that to myself."
"You're funny. You're strong-willed, but there's something a bit off about you... kind of gentle, I guess? I can't really put it into words."
"Me? Off? Gentle? I've never been told that before, so that's kind of refreshing. Maybe it's not so bad for a change."
Heather stopped and faced Vincent. An awkward atmosphere hung between them as they looked into each other's eyes. His hand touched hers, and the warm, soft sensation made her heart race. Under the streetlamp, the falling snow sparkled continuously. Not knowing what to do, she quickly let go of his hand.
"My house is just over there. Thanks for coming all the way."
She hastily took off her olive-green coat and handed it to Vincent.
"And for for this too."
"Yeah," he replied, taking the coat with a serious expression.
"I'd like to walk you home again."
Heather thought about the meaning behind those words and looked Vincent in the eye.
"Vincent, you're a good guy. But you shouldn't get involved with me."
"I want to be involved."
"No. If you get involved, it'll only bring more trouble."
It was painful to reject him, but she couldn't drag him into her problems. Feeling a small pang in her heart, Heather ran toward her home.
"Then... I'll call you later!"
She heard Vincent's voice behind her and turned around with a smile.
"You don't even have my number. See you later!"
As soon as Heather parted ways with Vincent, she had to face her usual dark and cold reality. At least, while she was with him, she could distract herself from the loneliness and anxiety that constantly haunted her. She felt a warmth in her chest and a flutter in her heart... it was the first time she had ever experienced such feelings. But as she stood before the darkened entrance of her home, she suddenly began to worry about her father.
Please, be home.
With a prayerful heart, she opened the front door. The house was dark and silent. He might be asleep upstairs, or if he had gone out for some urgent reason, maybe he had left a note. Closing the door behind her, she called out.
"Dad?”
There was no reply. She continued down the hallway and entered the dining room.
"Dad?”
When she turned on the kitchen light, she noticed something had fallen in front of the back door.
His cell phone!
She hurriedly picked it up and flipped it open, which showed “three missed calls.” All of them were from her. That was strange. He would never go out without his phone. Had he just forgotten it by chance?
"Dad?”
With a growing sense of unease, Heather headed to the living room. She fumbled for the light switch in the darkness, and the room was instantly illuminated. The next moment, she screamed.
Those words were written in large red letters on the white wall directly in front of her. To the left of the writing was a strange circular pattern. Inside the circle were mysterious hieroglyphs, symbols, and three small circles in the center. She couldn’t understand their meaning, but they seemed familiar. Red streaks dripped down from all the letters and patterns, making it look as if the wall was bleeding. But that wasn’t the only unusual thing. The entire room had been ransacked. Chairs and tables were overturned, and moving boxes were scattered everywhere. The scene was so abnormal that Heather felt the blood drain from her face.
Did he got attacked? Or kidnapped?
She dashed upstairs like a startled rabbit, peeking into both her father's and her own bedrooms. She checked the bathroom and the storage room too, but her father was nowhere to be found. She returned downstairs and searched the dining room and living room again, but nothing had changed, and she was at a loss. She hesitated with her phone in hand, unsure whether to dial 911, and in the end, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Staring at the message left in the living room, she stood frozen in shock. At that moment, the doorknob rattled, snapping her out of her daze. Could it be that her father had come home? She instinctively reached out to unlock the door, but stopped herself, reconsidering. What if it was the people who had attacked her father?
A knock followed, and she heard a voice.
“Heather, it’s Vincent. I heard a scream―――”
It was a familiar voice. It was definitely him. Heather hastily undid the lock and opened the door.
“Help me. It’s terrible. Look at that.”
Vincent, who had entered, looked in the direction she pointed from the entrance to the living room. He glanced at Heather in surprise, but quickly walked over to the wall.
“This... is this blood?”
“It might be.”
“Did you call the police?”
“―――I couldn’t,” Heather replied with a strained expression.
“Why not? This is obviously not normal. You need to call them,” Vincent said, spreading his hands wide. Heather could only shake her head.
“I just can’t. That’s the one thing I mustn’t do――”
Perhaps sensing something, Vincent swallowed his urgent plea and nodded slightly. “Okay. So, where is this Silent Hill?”
“I don’t know. It’s a place that appears in my dreams, but my dad warned me never to go there.”
“So, your father knew about Silent Hill.”
“Maybe... But he never told me anything...” She suddenly remembered something as she gazed at the pattern on the wall. “This circular mark, I’ve seen it before.” Saying this, she dashed upstairs and burst into her father's room.
Vincent followed her and looked at the photo frame in front of the large mirror.
"Is this your family photo?”
“Yeah, it was taken when I was eight.”
“Your hair was black then.”
“...Yeah. I dye it blonde now.”
“So, the man in the middle is your father, and the woman on the right is your mother?”
“I’m adopted. I don’t know anything about my biological parents. Right now, my dad is my only family.”
Vincent didn’t pry any further. Heather took a wooden box from the shelf and placed it on the bed.
“Look, this pattern matches the one on the wall.”
The three small circles in the center and the strange hieroglyphs. The circular mark engraved on the box's lid was the same as the one on the wall.
“What’s inside?”
“This is his secret box. The contents inside are the answer. He loved me like his real daughter and tried to protect me from something. Maybe I can find out what that something is.”
When she opened the lid, it was packed with paper scraps and clippings. The yellow envelope contained torn pages from notebooks and memo pads, and all of them had the words "Silent Hill" written on them.
“Did you write these?”
Heather nodded in response to Vincent's question. After having dreams, she wrote them down so she wouldn’t forget, and her father had secretly collected them. As she rummaged through the box, she found a round metal plate wrapped in silk. The intricate and mysterious characters and symbols engraved on it resembled the patterns on the lid and the wall. When she turned it over, there were three small circles carved like grooves on the back.
“Maybe another piece fits into these grooves...” Heather muttered absentmindedly, causing Vincent to furrow his brows.
“Do you know what that is?”
Heather was curious about the uneasy look in his eyes as he stared at the metal plate, but she simply answered, “No,” and put it in her pocket. Then, she started searching the drawers and found her father's wallet containing cash and credit cards. The credit cards might not work, but the cash would be useful. Underneath the magazines in the closet, she found a gun and several bullets. After putting them in her bag, Vincent interjected from the side.
“A gun? Do you really need that?”
“It's just in case. I don’t know what might happen.”
Suddenly, the front door was pounded on violently, and they exchanged startled glances.
“Police! Open the door!”
A loud voice followed the knocking.
“Heather, didn’t you say you didn’t call the police?”
“I didn’t. We have to move. If they catch us, we won’t be able to find my dad.”
Heather frantically stuffed everything within reach into her bag.
“Then why are they here? Did you do something?”
Vincent grabbed her by the arms, demanding an answer.
“I swear I haven’t done anything wrong. Please, Vincent. You have to help me.”
“What do I do?”
“Can you drive? I don’t have a license.”
Vincent hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Fine.” Heather grabbed the keys from the sideboard and handed them to him.
After a few more fierce pounding sounds, the front door of the Mason house was kicked open. The two detectives from the mall stormed in with their guns drawn. They split up and carefully searched the house. In the eerie silence, only their footsteps echoed.
“Detective Santini, come to the living room!”
The voice of his partner broke the silence, and Santini hurried to the living room. As soon as he entered, he was stunned by the large, red message on the white wall.
“What is this?”
“Is that a gang symbol?”
Santini shook his head at Detective Cable’s suggestion.
“No, I’ve never seen a mark like that. It might be a symbol of a cult or something. Have the forensics team check it out. There’s a possibility it was written in blood.”
“Do you think the girl in that photo is connected to the private investigator’s murder?”
“The room’s been ransacked, and there’s a mysterious message on the wall. There’s definitely something weird is going on. We need to investigate whatever her connection is to the murder.”
“Seems like there’s no one on the first floor.”
“Let’s check upstairs.”
At that moment, they heard a faint noise from upstairs. Startled, the two detectives rushed up the stairs. They readied their guns and tried to open the door to the room at the far left of the second floor, but it was locked from the inside. After a few body slams, they broke down the door and charged in, but the room was empty. The curtains at the back of the room fluttered in the wind. When the detectives checked, they found that the sash window was wide open.
Harry's car drove down the quiet street with the two of them inside. It wasn't very late yet, but there were few cars on the road. Vincent held the steering wheel with a serious expression, while Heather, sitting in the passenger seat, looked through the documents she had brought from her father's house. Not too long ago, they had been enjoying themselves, but the situation surrounding them had drastically changed. The times they had been smiling and talking now felt like a distant memory.
As they waited at the traffic light near the entrance to the highway, Heather spoke up.
"If you're having abny second thoughts, you can just drop me off here."
"How are you planning to get there without a car?"
Vincent answered while staring at the red light ahead.
"I don't know. I'll just hitchhike or something."
"Heh, your father taught you how to use a gun, but not how to drive."
As he finally cracked a smile, Heather couldn't help but smile a little too.
"Yeah, we're a weird family, aren't we? But Vincent, I don't want to drag you into this."
"It's far too late for that."
Despite his words, Vincent's eyes were kind. Heather was grateful for his cooperation, and just having him by her side gave her a sense of comfort. She wanted to cherish this new feeling she had never experienced before, a mix of comfort and unease, something different from what she felt with her father.
"So, what are you going to do now?"
When Vincent asked, Heather thought for just a moment. Flipping through the notes her father had written, she was certain there was only one place she needed to go.
The light turned green.
"I'm heading to Silent Hill. Just keep going straight."
She answered firmly, her gaze fixed ahead on the road stretching out before them.
As Vincent drove, Heather was reading through the documents her father had gathered about Silent Hill. She hesitated as she held a plain white envelope in her hand, wondering whether or not to open it. It was the one that had been sitting on top when she first opened the wooden box in the bedroom. It was addressed to "Sharon" in her father's handwriting. A letter from her father to her. As scared as she was to read it, she was also desperate for any clue that might lead her to her father's whereabouts. Hoping to find something, she finally tore open the envelope and unfolded the letter.
"My beloved daughter Sharon, if you are reading this, something must have happened to me. But you must go on living. Do not put yourself in danger by trying to find me. Do not go to Silent Hill."
Tears welled up in her chest as she imagined what her father must have been feeling when he wrote this letter. Heather covered her mouth with one hand, trying not to let Vincent notice her sobs.
"Still, you have the right to know the truth—who you really are. I tried my hardest to protect you, but I realize now that there are limits to what I can do. The man I killed in Portland wasn't just a simple burglar."
The incident in Portland. How many years had it been since then? Even so, Heather remembered that day clearly.
Returning from shopping, Dad and I were laughing as we carried our grocery bags into the house. I think Dad had just made a silly joke, and I teased him right after. We were always like that, laughing and enjoying each other's company—until that moment.
As soon as we stepped into the kitchen, a stranger suddenly attacked us. The skinny man with short hair raised a knife, and Dad dropped the bags he was holding and charged at the man. Vegetables scattered across the floor as the man was pushed backward, falling onto his back with Dad on top of him. Dad's hands and the carpet were stained bright red. When Dad backed away in shock, the knife was deeply embedded in the man's chest.
"Don't...think you can...protect her...forever..."
The man muttered those words before he died. His shirt had come undone, revealing his chest. If I recall correctly, there was a mysterious circular tattoo on his blood-soaked skin. It was the same symbol that had been left on the wall, but at the time, I had no idea what it meant.
Everything happened in an instant. It was terrifying. Ever since then, we had been moving from place to place. Dad had acted in self-defense, but we had become fugitives.
Heather's gaze returned to the letter.
"He was an agent sent by the cult to take you back. So, Sharon, it's not true that you and me have been running from the police. The cult has been targeting us. Their aim is you."
Heather suddenly realized that the words of the private detective Douglas, whom she had met at the mall, were true.
"I've been meticulously gathering information on Silent Hill and compiling it into a notebook. If you read what's written there, you'll discover the truth. I'm sorry for lying to you all this time, but it was necessary to keep you safe. Please understand. The truth is painful and might be hard to accept, but know this: Silent Hill is a cruel place that took your mother from you, just as it took my wife. Please, don't go back there."
The letter ended with, "I love you more than anyone. From Dad." Heather turned her face toward the window, wiping away her tears. But they kept flowing. Her father had lived in fear, always knowing this day would come. How hard that must have been. And her mother hadn't died in a car accident—Silent Hill had taken her. But what did that mean? Though her father had written that she should never go there, Heather was determined to save him. He had always been the one protecting her, and now it was her turn to protect him.
"Heather, you okay? Should I stop?" Vincent noticed she was crying.
Heather shook her head and bravely replied, "I'm fine. Keep driving."
When she glanced out the window, a large sign caught her eye: Welcome to West Virginia. They were getting closer to Silent Hill, and she bit her lip, feeling the reality of the situation.
As they continued down the monotonous road, the two remained mostly silent, feeling the stillness of the deepening night. Heather opened her father's notebook and began to read. Some parts were written in neat, easy-to-read handwriting, while others were in a chaotic scrawl, almost illegible. Here and there were chilling sketches, some resembling the monsters she had seen. There were also old newspaper clippings, one with the headline, "The Ghost Town That Burns Forever."
On another page, there was a description of that circular metal plate: "The Broken Seal," it said, accompanied by detailed diagrams. Apparently, it was called "The Seal of Metatron," with a note reading, "Reveal the truth. Is this the key to another world?" and "Find the other half." The other half… So the metal plate was meant to be paired with another piece. She didn't know how to use it, but it seemed important.
"What does it say?" Vincent asked, still gripping the steering wheel.
"It’s filled with tons of information about Silent Hill. My dad must have been terrified of this town, but his obsession with it… feels like it has possessed him."
Heather lowered her gaze back to the notebook and began reading a particular section.
"Silent Hill was originally a sacred site known as 'The Place Where the Quiet Spirits Sleep,' revered by the native tribes. Settlers eventually moved in, but the town was abandoned after a mysterious epidemic swept through. Later, it was resettled as a penal colony, and a prison was built. After the Civil War, the prison was closed, and the town flourished as a mining community—that’s its history."
"Well, that’s bad news. You always hear that you shouldn't build anything on old native burial grounds because it's cursed. It might be just a superstition, but building a prison on what used to be a sacred site? That's asking for trouble," Vincent joked.
But the series of ominous events—native displacement, the spread of disease, the penal colony, the prison, and the war—gave Heather an uneasy feeling. The transformation from a holy site to a cursed place was unsettling. She turned the page and continued reading.
"Silent Hill has long been home to a religious cult. This cult, a blend of native religions and settler Christianity, has multiple factions. One of these, known as the Valtiel sect, has secretly controlled the town for centuries. These fanatics worship an angel named Valtiel, believing that the birth of a divine child will bring about the god’s resurrection and renew the world."
The Valtiel sect. That was the name Douglas had mentioned.
"Sounds like one of those doomsday cults that stir up fear."
"Yeah, no kidding," Vincent said with a wry smile.
"It also says here, 'Thirty-something years ago, during a great fire, it’s known that human sacrifices and witches were burned at the stake.' Burned at the stake? I thought these things were only done in medieval Europe. But in America, just thirty years ago?"
Heather looked up from the notebook, seeking Vincent’s reaction. But Vincent, keeping his eyes on the road, only asked, "Does it say why they were burned?"
The next page contained a different newspaper article.
"The mine fire has spiraled out of control, spreading beneath the entire town. All residents have been forced to evacuate."
The article included a photo of the town's street shrouded in white smoke, with the anxious expressions of local residents leaving a strong impression. The fear and despair in their eyes were palpable.
"Could the burnings be related to the mine fire? The town was thriving as a mining community, and then it’s hit by this great fire. It’s like it was destined to be cursed," Heather murmured.
As she turned another page, her father’s handwritten notes appeared again. She frowned at the heading.
"Alessa’s Curse?"
She had heard the name "Alessa" several times before. It was no coincidence. That name stirred a sense of familiarity in her. Perhaps it had something to do with her lost past. Heather felt her doubts slowly hardening into certainty.
"Dad didn’t believe the town’s downfall was solely due to the mine fire."
Vincent blinked in surprise and turned to her.
"Huh? Then what did he believe?"
Heather traced the lines of text with her finger as she read aloud.
"The cult, believing the town was cursed by the power of a demonic girl named Alessa, tried to purify her by burning her at the stake, but they failed. In revenge, the girl trapped the people in a limbo between life and death and summoned monstrous creatures from a dark world."
Summoning creatures from a dark world? Heather’s mind flashed back to her conversation with the detective. In the elevator, Douglas had suggested that the monsters might be connected to her and that they had come from the dark world to take her back to Silent Hill. And next to her father’s text was a drawing of the creature with sword-like arms.
It was called a Missionary.
A vicious monster that, under the orders of the cult's leaders, beheaded her father in a nightmare and later killed Douglas. The fact that such a heartless creature was called a "missionary" was deeply ironic.
There was another drawing as well. It depicted a figure with a pyramid-shaped helmet, wielding a large blade.
This is Alessa's guardian and executioner.
I also recognize this figure. It was the one turning the merry-go-round in the nightmare amusement park. Alessa, Silent Hill, grotesque creatures, the dark world, and me—everything is starting to connect.
However, as much as I want to uncover the truth, I can't shake this overwhelming fear. Who am I, really?
"Damn it!"
Vincent suddenly cursed, pulling Heather back to reality.
"What's wrong?"
"Over there."
Heather glanced in the direction Vincent indicated with his chin and saw the distant flashing lights of a patrol car. It seemed to be driving on the opposite side, and the lights were rapidly getting closer.
"Can we avoid them? We’ve already crossed the state line."
"No, there was a murder, after all. We should be cautious. Let’s take the side road. We’ll be less noticeable, and it'll be easier to get away if it comes to that."
Vincent quickly turned the steering wheel, guiding the car toward the exit ramp. As they left the highway and moved onto the side road, the scenery outside the window began to shift to the isolated mountains. As they crossed a narrow bridge and passed through a dense forest, the fog started to thicken. There were few streetlights, and sometimes the entire road was swallowed by pitch-black darkness. The scenery illuminated by the headlights looked lifeless, reminding Heather of the phrase from her father's writings, "The boundary between life and death."
Ahead on the right, a neon sign became visible. The words "JACK'S INN" were vividly lit up, standing out in the darkness.
"Let's stop for a bit," Vincent said, causing Heather to frown.
"No, let's keep going."
"I'm tired. I have to rest for a while."
He pleaded with a serious expression.
"You should take a breather too, and we should discuss what to do next."
Although Heather felt uneasy about the idea of staying alone with him, Vincent's point was valid. He had been driving for hours in the middle of the night; naturally, he was exhausted. She reluctantly agreed,
"Fine."
After parking the car and checking in, they stepped into room 106. The cheap motel room was small, with everything looking simple, but the white walls, twin beds, and gray carpet were all clean, and the room was well-maintained. When Heather sat on the bed at the back of the room, the springs creaked under her weight. She placed her bag down and sighed. She had come this far in a daze. To be honest, her body felt as heavy as lead.
"Do you think they'll find us?"
Heather asked, watching Vincent as he peeked through the blinds to check outside.
"Whether it's the cult or the police, they'll figure it out sooner or later."
"Is Silent Hill still far away?"
"No, it should be close."
Vincent suddenly turned away from the blinds to face Heather and said, "Let's turn back."
"What?" Heather shouted in surprise.
"Your father was right. You shouldn't go to Silent Hill."
"I can't just turn back now. I have to find him—"
Unconvinced by Vincent's words, Heather stood up with determination.
"It was written in your father's notebook, wasn't it? He strongly wished you wouldn't go there. Are you going to just ignore it?"
"But…"
Conflicted between her desire to save her father and her wish to honor his desperate attempts to protect her, Heather hesitated. Vincent stepped closer, peering into her face.
"The cult is going after you. That's why they kidnapped your father—to lure you out."
"We can't be certain!"
"It is. Your father went missing, and a message was left at your house, 'Come to Silent Hill.' If you think about it, everything fits."
Vincent's reasoning wasn't wrong, and Heather knew it. Her father had been abducted by the followers of Valtiel and taken to Silent Hill. And now, they were using him as bait to lure her back to Silent Hill. Even if it was a trap, there was only one path she could take.
"But I have no choice, do I? There's no other way. Can't you understand that?"
Vincent took her hand and pulled her close. Heather, momentarily confused by his sudden embrace, felt a strange comfort in his warmth and the sound of his heartbeat, and without realizing it, she leaned into him.
"Heather, I understand. I'm just worried about you. I don't want you to get hurt."
As she looked up, Vincent's dark eyes were right in front of her. Her heart skipped a beat at his gentle gaze. His face slowly approached, and Heather quietly closed her eyes.
Ash fell endlessly, covering the long road in the misty white town. A girl walked through the ash, scattering it as she went. She was Alessa, a girl with long black hair and black eyes, wearing a school uniform.
Despite her adorable features, her face was burnt, and painful-looking scars from burns covered her skin. Her whole body glistened as if soaked in oil. Behind her, the swirling ash rose up, moving ominously like a living creature.
People ran in terror from Alessa and the approaching ash cloud, their faces twisted in fear. When she raised her hand, the ash surged forward at lightning speed, obliterating everything in its path. The residents caught in the ash were instantly pulverized. Alessa then approached a woman frozen in fear. As the demon child's hand touched her, a scream echoed throughout the town.
Heather jolted awake.
What a nightmare.
Wrapped in a thin blanket, she blinked a few times, gradually recalling her situation. That's right. This is the motel on the way to Silent Hill. Her gaze settled on Vincent, sitting on the bed next to her, absorbed in reading a notebook. In his hand was the round metal plate, the "Seal of Metatron."
"Were you awake?"
She asked from behind him as she sat up, the blanket sliding off her.
He remained silent, still facing away from her.
"—Vincent?"
Feeling uneasy, she called out to him again.
"We can't go any further."
He shook his head without turning around.
"What?"
Heather got out of bed and walked briskly toward Vincent.
"We already discussed this. We have to go."
"Trust me."
"It's for my dad! You don’t understand anything!"
As she raised her voice and pressed him further, Vincent stood up, getting right in her face.
"I understand all too well. I'm a child of the cult!"
Heather couldn't believe her ears. What did he mean? She desperately tried to process his words. After a long silence, Vincent exhaled deeply and began to speak.
"I was born and raised in Silent Hill. It's a place filled with darkness and fear. And I was sent into this world to bring you back."
Heather was stunned by his shocking confession.
"You... that can't be right."
She shook her head vigorously.
"The cultist can't leave Silent Hill. That's what my dad's notebook said."
"That's not true. We can, but only for a short time… at a great cost."
Vincent looked at Heather intently, his expression troubled.
"A cost?"
"This."
He suddenly lifted his T-shirt. Heather gasped at the sight of his exposed torso. The same circular pattern that had been left on the walls of her house and the lid of her father's box was carved into his skin. The symbol, perfectly replicated with even the smallest details of the hieroglyphs and symbols, was clearly a scar from a blade. Some parts were still not fully healed, with blood seeping from them, indicating that they were recent wounds.
—Just to leave Silent Hill for a little while, he had to go through something like this?
Feeling a shiver of fear at the cult's cruelty, Heather muttered, "That's impossible…" and took a step back.
"This is the cult's symbol, called the 'Halo of the Sun.' The two large outer circles represent mercy and rebirth, while the three smaller inner circles represent the past, present, and future, symbolizing reincarnation. Only members of the cult know this. Now do you believe me?"
As Vincent adjusted his clothes, Heather suddenly felt a surge of anger. His kindness towards her had all been part of the cult's plan. And she had naively believed it, completely misunderstanding everything. She had thought she had finally connected with someone other than her dad.
"How could you—"
"I was told from a young age that Alessa was the embodiment of evil. That she was the demon who brought darkness and imprisoned us. And you, as her reincarnation, were also a demon."
Heather was too shocked to respond. Alessa was a girl who had been burned at the stake by the cult long before she was born. How could she be her reincarnation?
"But that wasn't true. After meeting you and spending time with you, I realized you're not one."
Vincent took a step closer, reducing the distance between them. Heather couldn't move under his gaze.
"Even if you're Alessa's reincarnation, you're the good part of her."
His gaze was still gentle, just like before. But even while looking at her that way, he had been lying to her all along.
"But you… you have been lying all this time…" She didn't know what to do, overwhelmed by frustration and sadness. "You tricked me... didn't you?"
She was overwhelmed with regret and sorrow, not knowing what to do. The tender feelings she had developed for Vincent—finally experiencing the emotions of a teenage girl—had been cruelly trampled upon.
"I had no choice. I was being watched by the cult. You saw the men in black robes too, didn't you?"
"You could see them too? You just kept lying to me..." She bit her lip and glared at Vincent. "You took my dad away."
"Believe me, I had nothing to do with him. I truly know nothing about it," Vincent pleaded desperately, but Heather couldn't accept his words.
"But why him? The cult is after me, right?"
"They needed you to return to Silent Hill on your own accord. The cult believed that by kidnapping your father, you'd have no choice but to come back to town."
"So you were in on this! You were driving me to Silent Hill, weren't you?" Heather's voice grew more forceful as she accused Vincent, tears blurring her vision. "Why does it need me?"
Even if she was Alessa's reincarnation, she didn't understand why she was being targeted.
"As long as Alessa exists, the cult can't be free. Her power keeps the people trapped in Silent Hill. And unless Alessa is fully reunited, they can't defeat her. That's why they need you, her other half."
Vincent softly took Heather's hand. "But it's not too late. You can still turn back."
"If I don't go, what's gonna happen to my dad?"
Another silence fell between them. His lack of response terrified her.
"Is he safe?"
She asked cautiously, but when Vincent replied with, "For now, yes," Heather was bewildered. "They'll keep him alive as bait to lure you in. But my mother, Claudia, will soon lose patience, and your dad will..."
Vincent's words trailed off, and Heather became restless.
"Where is he?"
"He's held in the sanctuary, underground in the town."
Upon hearing this, Heather immediately tried to head for the exit. Now that she knew where her father was, she couldn't stay here any longer. She had to save him before it was too late.
"Wait, Heather—you can't enter the sanctuary without this key." Vincent called out, causing her to turn around. In his outstretched hand was the Seal of Metatron.
"If you find the other half and join them, the path will open. The truth will be revealed."
"With this key, I can reach the sanctuary where he is? Where is the other half?"
"My grandfather, Leonard Wolf, has it."
She walked over to Vincent, reaching out to take the seal.
"You said he was sent to the hospital?"
"Yes," Vincent confirmed as he firmly held onto Heather's hand. "But he's dangerous. I can't let you go alone. I'll go with you."
"Just, stop! Don't touch me!" Heather struggled to escape from Vincent's grasp. Suddenly, the lights in the room began flickering intensely. The fluorescent lights, the bedside lamp, even the digital clock's display—all started flashing simultaneously. But it was clear this wasn't just an electrical malfunction. The white walls of the motel room began to turn a rust-like red, emitting a foul stench.
"What... is this...?"
Just after the room turned completely red, the walls began to crumble. It was an utterly bizarre sight. The red-black sections of the wall started to peel away, revealing the iron framework underneath. It was as if the room was decaying at an incredible speed, like a human body rotting and shedding flesh from bone.
"This is the darkness. It has come. Heather, did you call for it?"
Vincent couldn't hide his panic.
"Please, you have to stop! Right now!"
"I am not doing it! It's not me!" Heather shook her head, denying any involvement. The walls were almost completely gone, exposing the outside world.
"You are Alessa's other half. If you have the same powers, you should be able to summon the darkness, and also banish it."
"I don't know! I don't know how to!" Heather was confused and terrified. She couldn't believe she had such power. "Stop! Please, just stop!" She screamed desperately at the encroaching darkness, but nothing changed. In an instant, the motel was reduced to just its skeletal frame, with all the metal beams rusted over. "What the hell's happening?" Heather held her head in her hands, utterly lost. Vincent gently approached her.
"Heather..." he softly called her name. Just as she looked up, something moved behind him. Heather squinted, her eyes widening in horror. Standing there was the creature with swords for hands—the Missionary.
"Vincent!" She reached out to pull him away, but it was too late. The creature's arm swung through the air, and a violent impact hit her, plunging her world into darkness. The last thing she heard was Vincent's scream before she lost consciousness.
Heather squinted as the morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, forcing her eyes open. She grimaced at the brightness. Where am I? she wondered, slowly scanning the room. The motel walls remained white and unblemished, and the carpet beneath her hands confirmed she had been lying on the floor. As she sat up and surveyed her surroundings, everything seemed to have returned to normal—except Vincent was nowhere to be seen. Had he been killed by that creature? Or was he still trapped in the world of darkness? There wasn't even a trace that he had ever been there.
On the bed, she found her father's notebook and the Seal of Metatron. Heather placed them in her bag and retrieved her handgun, tucking it securely at her waist. She realized she would have to continue on her own from here. After gathering her belongings, she opened the motel door and stepped outside.
The fog was thick as she walked down the straight road. She looked up, noticing that something was continuously falling from the sky, which was blanketed in thick clouds. It wasn't snow—it was death. The flakes piled up on her palm and on the ground without melting, but the sensation underfoot was similar to that of stepping on fresh snow, producing a dry crunching sound.
After walking for some time, Heather stopped in the middle of the road and looked back. The motel had completely vanished into the fog. Her visibility was poor, with everything blurred by the mist, but in the distance, she could make out the vague shapes of buildings—a sign of a town up ahead. Noticing a road sign, she hurried toward it to see what it said.
She had finally arrived. There was no turning back now. Resolute, Heather stepped forward, crossing into the boundary between life and death.
As she continued, buildings began to line both sides of the street, and shop signs came into view. She had reached what seemed to be the town's main thoroughfare. However, there were no people or cars in sight, and the eerie silence that enveloped the area was unsettling. It was as if the entire town had held its breath upon her arrival.
Feeling as though she was being watched, Heather glanced up at the second floor of a nearby building. She flinched when her eyes met those of a figure standing by the window. Its face was a pale, ghostly white, with lifeless, cloudy eyes—and it wasn't alone. Several figures stood in a row, staring down at her, completely motionless.
The sense of being observed made Heather quicken her pace. The town's atmosphere was disturbingly ominous. I have to find my father. Heather recalled Vincent's words: her father's place of confinement was a sanctuary beneath the town, accessible only with a key formed by combining the two halves of the Seal of Metatron. One half was in the possession of his grandfather, Leonard Wolf, who was currently hospitalized. That meant her destination was the hospital.
"You're the demon!"
Heather was startled by the sudden shout as an elderly man appeared in front of her, blocking her path. He was frail, his legs unsteady as if he might collapse at any moment, and his face was unnaturally pale, though his eyes gleamed with a disturbing intensity.
"The demon is here! Roaming our town!" The man continued to rant loudly, causing her to recoil.
"Please, stop!" she pleaded.
"It's the demon! Call the Brethren!"
The word "Brethren" was unfamiliar to Heather, and she frowned in confusion. Meanwhile, the old man’s shouting had drawn other residents out onto the street. They gathered around her, echoing the old man’s cries.
"Demon! Demon! Demon!"
Unable to withstand the growing hostility, Heather turned and ran. She veered off the main street into a narrow alleyway, desperate to shake off her pursuers. Their voices gradually faded as she put distance between herself and the mob. When she was sure she had escaped, she finally stopped, catching her breath and confirming that she was alone. She pulled out a map, crudely drawn by her father, from her bag. Despite tracing her fingers along the streets, the map was too rough to help her identify her location, especially since there were no clear landmarks around.
Suddenly, she heard footsteps at the far end of the alley. Cautiously peering around the corner, she saw that it wasn't one of the townspeople. The men who appeared were heavily armed and outfitted with gas masks and bulky protective gear—more akin to a special forces unit than civilians.
Are they looking for me? Heather instantly sensed danger. Could these men be the "Brethren" the old man had mentioned? Realizing she needed to move quickly, she backed away. But as she did, she sensed something moving behind her. Swiftly, she turned to see a shadowy figure emerge from the fog—a man in a gas mask, reaching out with a large arm to grab her.
Heather ducked just in time, slipping under the man’s arm and sprinting down the alleyway. The heavy equipment slowed him down, and by the time he managed to turn around, she had already darted into another narrow passage.
That was close. Heather's heart pounded as she ran at full speed, only slowing down when she reached her limit. She looked around, but the thick fog obscured everything. She had no idea where she was, but at least the fog would make it harder for her pursuers to find her.
The narrow path between the buildings opened up into a plaza-like space. Heather cautiously moved forward, listening carefully, but there were no sounds of pursuit. Stepping onto the ash-covered ground, she slowly made her way toward the open area. At the center of the plaza stood a tall structure resembling an obelisk. As she got closer, she realized it was not an obelisk but a person, bound to a long pole.
The smell of burning flesh was overwhelming, and she grimaced in disgust.
No… Please, let me be wrong, she thought as she approached the figure, dread building inside her. When she stood before it, her worst fears were confirmed. It wasn't a statue; it was a person, charred and blackened, their face twisted in a grimace of agony, their mouth open in a silent scream. The horror of being burned alive was etched into the figure’s features. A sign hanging from the body read "Traitor," indicating that this person had been executed for betrayal.
Heather's legs trembled with fear as a passage from her father's notebook flashed in her mind:
"The cult tried to cleanse Alessa’s sins by burning her at the stake."
Burned at the stake… The memory surged back from the depths of her mind—a young girl engulfed in flames, her small body consumed by searing heat. Her skin and flesh burned away as the crowd below watched in twisted glee. No matter how much she screamed, no one came to her aid. Among the crowd stood a woman, watching in silence. The girl, her body writhing in the flames, cried out to her, "It’s so hot, Mommy. It hurts. Why are you letting this happen to me?"
"Why did you come back? You're playing right into their hands."
Heather turned around, startled by the sudden voice from behind. A middle-aged woman, dressed in tattered rags, stood there. Despite her appearance, like that of a homeless person, her well-defined features hinted at a beauty she must have possessed in her youth.
Do I recognize her from somewhere?
Heather frowned and stared at the woman's face. It didn’t take long for her to realize this was the woman she had seen in the recently resurfaced memories.
"You... Could you be Alessa's mother? How could you burn your own daughter alive? How could you do something so cruel?"
The woman looked shocked at Heather's words, her gaze filled with a deep sadness as she responded.
"Yes, I am Alessa’s mother, Dahlia Gillespie. I loved her. Alessa was my everything."
"That's a lie! If you loved your daughter, why didn’t you protect her?"
"I was deceived by my sister, Christabella, who was also the high priestess of the cult. She told me she could cleanse my daughter by performing a purification ritual... She convinced me it was for the good of both of us, so I agreed. But I didn’t know what the ritual truly entailed or what would happen."
As the gray ash continued to fall, Heather could sense the deep sorrow in Dahlia's blue eyes.
"Young lady, you can't possibly imagine the fear, regret, and despair I felt when I realized the cult intended to burn my daughter alive. Of course, I ran around seeking help. But it was too late."
Is there any greater torture for a mother than to watch her beloved child burn alive, powerless to stop it? Heather felt a pang in her chest. As much as she felt sympathy for Dahlia, an intense anger also welled up inside her.
――― Mom, why didn’t you save me?―――
The voice seemed to come from inside her, causing her to falter. Once again, long-buried memories began to resurface in her mind.
"She’s a witch! A witch!" Her classmates at elementary school taunted her. The word "WITCH" carved into her desk. Simply because she had no father, Alessa was treated like a demon by those around her. An illegitimate child was against the cult’s teachings, making her a living sin. Every day was a torment for Alessa, but there was one solace. Her kind mother. Her mother's love healed the wounds in the young girl's heart. Then one day, the cult’s priestess approached the mother and daughter, promising that a purification ritual would cleanse Alessa and make everything better. Dahlia, heartbroken by her daughter's suffering, clung to the cult’s offer like a drowning person to a straw. On the appointed day, Dahlia reassured her frightened daughter, telling her there was nothing to be afraid of, and took her to the Grand Hotel where the ritual would be performed. But by the time Dahlia realized the truth, it was too late. The mother and daughter were torn apart. "Mommy!" Alessa screamed, a terror so overwhelming that it felt like her heart would burst. But Mom said it would be okay, that there was nothing to be afraid of! And then, in front of a crowd of onlookers, the girl was burned at the stake. Dahlia, half-mad, called out her daughter's name as the police restrained her.
Overwhelmed by the onslaught of memories, Heather was left reeling.
"――Alessa was a special, chosen child. She survived the burning, but the town was doomed."
Dahlia's voice pulled Heather back to reality. The intense fear that Alessa had felt, which Heather had experienced through her resurfacing memories, still lingered.
"Considering what was done to her, it’s only fitting."
Heather said this to the woman who continued speaking calmly.
"Yes, if I hadn’t been deceived by the cult, none of this would have happened... My daughter wouldn’t have become a demon. I am the mother of a demon." Dahlia lowered her gaze, sighed softly, but quickly looked up again.
"And you are the demon's incarnation. The child my daughter brought into the world."
Vincent also said that I was Alessa’s incarnation. But I want to know why everyone thinks that. If anyone knows why I’m an incarnation, it should be Alessa’s mother, Dahlia. Heather stared straight at her and asked.
"Tell me. Why am I Alessa's incarnation?"
"You don't really know who you are, do you?"
Dahlia raised an eyebrow, narrowing her eyes.
"Alessa survived, but the agony of her burnt body was beyond description. The constant pain amplified the hatred within her, giving her unimaginable power. She opened the door to darkness and trapped us all in this town. The cult members became prisoners of Alessa's nightmare."
"But that doesn’t explain anything. What do you mean Alessa brought me into the world?"
Dahlia remained silent, staring at Heather as an eerie stillness descended once more. The fog grew denser, giving the illusion of being cut off from the rest of the world in a white void.
After a moment of silence, Dahlia spoke again.
"Even while trapped in a living hell, Alessa knew she could separate a part of herself from the pain. A part of her that could live without being consumed by the anger that burned within her. That part was her goodness."
Dahlia's voice was more solemn than ever, resonating with something deep within Heather. With a sense of vertigo, more memories began to flood back.
Alessa, barely alive, had been rescued by a policeman. Her charred body lay feverish on a white hospital bed. Though she clung to life, her former sweet appearance was gone. One day, a beautiful nurse with shoulder-length blonde hair stood beside the girl's bed. From the bed, Alessa’s blackened, skeletal arm reached out and placed her hand on the head of the baby the nurse was holding. And so, she entrusted her purest part to the child.
Suddenly, the vision shifted from the hospital to an outside scene. It was a rainy afternoon at the Toluca County Orphanage. A nun noticed the crying and opened the door. There, abandoned at the entrance, was a lone baby.
"Eventually, the child was adopted by a loving couple who knew nothing. That couple was your foster parents, Christopher and Rose Da Silva."
The recollection ended, and Heather gasped as she looked ahead. As the ash, like falling snowflakes, settled on Dahlia’s dull lavender veil, it gently slid off and fell to the ground.
"The part of Alessa that could still feel love, that’s you. If anyone can soothe her hatred, it’s you."
Could it be true that Alessa entrusted her goodness to me as a newborn? It seemed too unrealistic for Heather to believe. But considering all the nightmares, visions, conversations with Vincent, the notes left by her father, and the eerie atmosphere of this town... maybe Dahlia's story wasn’t as far-fetched as it seemed. Was what was now being laid bare before her the truth? Could this be the answer to the question that had always plagued her: 'Who am I?'
Dahlia took a step closer to Heather and spoke forcefully.
"But you shouldn’t have come back here. The cult will attempt to accomplish what they failed to do before. They’ll destroy both you and Alessa――――"
Heather flinched at the ominous tone in her voice.
At that moment, Heather noticed something moving in the fog. A large, dark figure was emerging from the white landscape. As it drew closer, she could make out a person wearing a gas mask.
Her instincts screamed danger, and her body tensed up. I need to get out of here.
"I heard... Christopher is in the sanctuary underground. Where is it?"
"If you want to save your father, you must be prepared to face your own destruction."
"I don’t care about myself. Just tell me where!"
The men in protective suits started running towards Heather. She realized that they were approaching not just from the front, but from the sides and behind as well. She could feel her heart race as she realized she had been surrounded.
Just then, sirens echoed throughout the town. She looked up and saw countless birds taking flight in a flock, though she hadn't noticed them before. Strangely, the men in gas masks, who had been advancing toward her, suddenly turned and fled.
"Why are they running away?"
"The darkness is coming."
The darkness!?
Heather froze. It was the same phenomenon she had experienced with Vincent at the motel. Come to think of it, he had been terrified too.
"Aren't you scared?"
She asked Dahlia, who remained unfazed.
"The arrival of darkness is Alessa’s doing. As her mother, nothing will happen to me. My punishment is to live." With that, Dahlia’s expression hardened, and she shouted,
"Run into the building! You’ll be safer indoors. Hurry!"
Heather hesitated for a moment, but when she saw the town rapidly transforming before her eyes, she immediately started running. It was just like at the motel. The buildings, the ground, everything was swiftly being covered in a reddish-brown rust-like substance, beginning to corrode. The horrific sight reminded her of skin peeling away to expose raw flesh, with rotting pieces of meat being torn from bones. The darkness surged like a tidal wave, swallowing everything in Silent Hill. The town, once shrouded in white fog, had now become a grotesque, rust-colored netherworld. The darkness crept forward, like a living creature’s tentacles slithering over the ground.
Just before being engulfed, Heather managed to dash into a nearby warehouse at the last moment.
Heather, having shut the door tightly, stood still for a while, trying to calm her breathing. However, the thought that the darkness might creep in through the cracks of the door made her decide to move deeper into the building. As she walked through the desolate hallway, she realized that even though the darkness hadn't invaded this far, its influence was evident inside. The walls were peeling and decaying, the place was nothing but a dilapidated ruin. What caught her eye were the mannequins scattered throughout the hallway—some were old and dirty, while others were wrapped in plastic, brand new. As she moved forward, she noticed the pink rabbit plushie lying on a sofa by the hallway. Its vacant, soulless eyes seemed to follow her as she passed by. Under the flickering fluorescent lights, she heard a disturbing noise, like the sound of breathing or a low groan, growing steadily louder.
Is something approaching?
Terrified, she rushed towards a nearby door. Though it was slightly ajar, the heavy metal door wouldn’t budge when she tried to push it open. Peeking through the gap, she realized that some boxes were blocking it from the other side. The noise was definitely getting closer, and Heather was becoming increasingly frantic. She pushed harder, but the door wouldn’t move.
What should I do?
Suddenly, she noticed the elevator doors at the far end of the corridor opening, and she tensed up. When she glanced back, her eyes widened in horror at what she saw.
The Missionary
The creature with blades for hands was emerging from the elevator, its sharp, double-edged blades glinting as it slowly advanced towards her. Heather was petrified and started slamming her body against the door in a desperate attempt to open it.
Please, open!
After repeatedly bashing against it, she finally felt the door start to give way, the gap widening just slightly. With the ominous presence of the Missionary and the eerie noises closing in behind her, she continued to push the door with all her might. She noticed a large shadow cast on the door, and the creature's right arm was raised high. It was right behind her!
Just as she was about to give up, she threw herself into one final, desperate tackle, causing her to tumble through the now-open door. A dull thud echoed through the linoleum floor as the Missionary’s blade struck down, missing her by a fraction. Heather quickly scrambled to her feet and slammed the door shut, locking it from the inside before the creature could regain its footing. For a while, the grating sound of blades scraping against the metal door filled the air, but eventually, all went silent, leaving only the sound of her own breath.
Is it safe now?
She cautiously backed away from the door, moving quietly to put some distance between herself and the entrance. The creature knew where she was; she needed to leave this place as soon as possible. But as she retreated, her back bumped into something, making her jump in fear. She spun around, only to be startled yet again by what she saw: a mannequin. It was bare, neither wigged nor clothed, staring vacantly into the distance.
Heather took in the dim room illuminated by a flickering bare bulb and gasped. The entire space was packed with mannequins. She had seen a few in the hallway, so she had guessed as much, but now it was clear—this was a mannequin storage room. Not only were there standing mannequins, but multiple long steel shelves were crammed with torsos and heads, leaving little room to navigate. The towering shelves, arranged like walls, made it impossible to see where the exits might be. As she tried to find a way through, the shelves formed a maze, blocking her path at every turn, turning the entire room into a giant labyrinth. The thought that the Missionary could appear again at any moment made her increasingly anxious. But the more frantic she became, the harder it was to find her way. The unsettling feeling of being watched by the silent mannequins overwhelmed her, pushing her closer to panic.
What?
A faint noise nearby made Heather freeze. She wasn’t imagining it—something was making a rhythmic sound. She glanced at the shelf beside her, where a mannequin lay wrapped in a plastic bag. It was missing everything below the waist and lay on its back, looking like an ordinary mannequin. But as she started to shift her gaze, Heather noticed something unsettling—the plastic covering its face was moving. It was subtle, but the bag was rising and falling rhythmically, almost like breathing.
Her brows furrowed in confusion, and in the next moment, the mannequin's head swiveled around to face her. Its white, milky eyes locked onto Heather’s, and it unmistakably blinked. She jumped back, crashing into the shelves behind her. The impact caused the shelves to rattle, the mannequin heads atop them clattering against each other—no, were they… laughing? Overwhelmed with fear, she dashed through the narrow gaps between the shelves, desperate to escape. Driven by a single-minded urge to get out of there, she raced through the labyrinth until she finally emerged into an open space. Looking up at the ceiling to get her bearings, she realized she had reached the center of the warehouse.
“...Help…”
A voice made Heather turn to face the center of the room. There, on a steel table resembling an autopsy slab, lay a naked girl. She appeared to be about the same age as Heather. Why was she here, in a mannequin storage room? And her head was shaved bald.
“...Help…”
The girl repeated the word, her eyes filled with fear. After a moment’s hesitation, Heather stepped forward, determined to help the girl. But as soon as she did, the girl’s body began to change, and Heather stopped in her tracks. To her shock, the girl’s body was hardening, starting from her toes. The once-soft, flesh-colored feet were turning into white, rigid doll’s feet. The girl’s eyes widened in terror, silently pleading with Heather, but Heather stood frozen, unsure of what to do. Meanwhile, the girl’s transformation continued rapidly, spreading up her body until it reached her neck. Just as the girl whispered “run,” her mouth, nose, and eyes turned to plastic. The girl no longer moved; she had become a complete mannequin lying on the steel table.
Heather trembled at the incomprehensible phenomenon that had just unfolded before her.
*What the hell is happening here?
As she glanced around the room, something caught her eye in the corner. It looked like an enormous spiderweb, and at its center, something was writhing, tightly bound in white threads.
A person?
Even from a distance, the silhouette suggested it was a woman. As Heather cautiously approached, the figure reacted to her footsteps, the bound face shifting slightly, and a small voice escaped.
“...Get me… out of here…”
I have to help!
Heather rushed over and began tearing at the web-like threads. The sticky strands were tough to break, but as she frantically pulled them apart, the woman’s face and body started to emerge. The captive was another girl, around the same age as Heather. As soon as her arms were free, the girl joined in, helping to rip off the remaining threads.
“Thank you.”
The girl offered a weak smile, her long blonde hair swaying as she moved.
“Who did this to you?”
Heather asked, but the girl’s mouth opened only to fall silent.
“—What’s wrong?”
Following the girl's gaze, Heather turned around and was horrified. There was another large, spider web-like structure on the ceiling at the back of the room. Something was floating in the dim light at the center of the web. Could someone else be trapped? As she strained her eyes, she realized that a jumble of dismembered mannequin heads, arms, and legs had been grotesquely connected to form a large, single mass.
"Is that... discarded mannequin parts?"
The girl silently shook her head in response to Heather's question.
"Then, what is it?"
As if to answer, a noise came from behind. Startled, Heather glanced over her shoulder and saw the mass of mannequins blinking and moving its heads as if surveying the surroundings. No, more precisely, multiple arms had grown and were gripping the heads. Six arms, six heads, six legs. Each head bore a different expression, as if each was a distinct living entity. With a dry rattling sound, the mannequin creature slowly descended from the web to the floor. Its movements resembled those of a giant tarantula.
"We have to run!"
Heather grabbed the girl's hand and tried to dash off, but the girl's leg was still entangled in a thread. She stumbled forward and fell, frantically trying to tear off the thread, but her hands were shaking with fear. As the creature drew closer, Heather hurriedly ripped the thread off the girl's leg.
Hurry! Hurry, get it off!
The girl, freed from the thread, stood up, and just as Heather and the girl dashed away from the spot, the mannequin mass reached the place where they had been standing. Just in time, they escaped into the maze of shelves, pushing through the narrow space. Where's the exit? They desperately tried to find a doorway, but the tall shelves and stacked mannequins obstructed them, causing them to lose their sense of direction. To gauge the enemy's movements, Heather and the girl stopped and crouched down behind a steel shelf.
"How did you end up here?" Heather whispered, and the girl replied in a low voice as well.
"I lost my way. The fog was unexpectedly thick, and I got lost in this town."
The beautiful girl, with her big, round eyes, brushed the blonde hair off her face.
At that moment, they saw the mannequin creature swiftly pass by the far end of the corridor. This is bad. If they stayed here, they would be discovered. Looking up from her crouched position, Heather caught a glimpse of a red exit sign through a gap in the shelves.
"There! The exit!"
Heather grabbed the girl's hand and started running with all her might. Looking back, she saw the creature rapidly moving its six legs, traversing the top of the steel shelves. One of the creature's faces had reached the emergency exit door built into the brick wall. Heather twisted the doorknob as she heard the creature approaching. If they could just get inside—But cruelly, the door was locked, and it rattled without any sign of opening.
—What should we do!
Heather felt the blood drain from her face.
"It's here!"
The girl beside her screamed just as the mannequin creature appeared on the shelf directly in front of them. As it lunged toward them, the shelf tilted and began to fall in their direction.
The two screamed and instinctively ducked amidst the loud crash and thunderous noise. Luckily, the narrow width of the corridor created a large space between the shelf and the wall, preventing them from being crushed. Heather glanced sideways and noticed a ventilation duct in the wall about two meters away. If they could get in there—
Suddenly, there was a loud clattering sound, and a mannequin head abruptly appeared from within the darkness. Six hands gripping six heads thrust forward, opening their large mouths to bite at Heather and the girl. Sharp, red fangs filled the gaping mouths. The malevolent mannequins were no longer just lifelike figures; they were horrifying monsters. The two twisted and turned, dodging the relentless attacks of the creature. Inch by inch, Heather managed to crawl out from the gap between the shelf and the wall. Desperately, she headed for the ventilation duct, with the girl following close behind. Fortunately, the long-limbed mannequin creature seemed to be struggling to squeeze through the narrow gap.
—We have to get into the vent now—
The vent was located at the bottom of the brick wall. Grasping the edge of the metal mesh cover that shielded the vent, she gave it a shake. Though heavy, the mesh unexpectedly came off quite easily. The duct was just wide enough for an adult to crawl through. The mannequin creature wouldn’t be able to follow them here. Without hesitation, Heather crawled into the narrow space on all fours, moving deeper and deeper into the duct. The long-haired girl followed right behind her. Although the inside of the duct was cramped and slippery, they continued to move forward steadily, using their hands and feet. They must have advanced several meters by now. Feeling relieved that they had escaped the creature, Heather reminded herself not to let her guard down. They needed to keep moving. Later, she planned to ask the girl she had saved for more information about this town.
In the narrow space, only the sound of their breathing and the friction of their hands and feet against the metal could be heard. Suddenly, Heather’s ears picked up an unfamiliar noise from behind. It was the sharp, dry sound of hard objects colliding. The noise clattered closer and closer in quick succession. No way—A terrifying thought crossed her mind. The girl, who had been following closely behind, suddenly stopped moving. Heather, sensing something was wrong, turned around just as a scream echoed through the duct, and the girl began to be pulled back with incredible force. Looking over her shoulder, Heather saw mannequin arms, legs, and heads extending from the entrance. The creature, which had previously been a mass, seemed to have reassembled its parts into a long, slender form. The mannequin’s arm had grabbed the girl’s leg, dragging her through the duct. The girl’s eyes were wide with shock. It all happened so quickly that Heather couldn’t do anything. Soon, both the mannequin and the girl disappeared from Heather’s view, but the screams of terror and the unsettling noises continued. The sound of flesh being torn and bones being crushed added to the horror, making it easy to imagine what was happening to the girl. Heather had to escape quickly before it was her turn. Panicked, she continued to crawl through the vent, crying as she went.
The underground sanctuary was a circular hall surrounded by thick columns, reminiscent of a Roman amphitheater. Illuminated by the red flames of torches was the large symbol of the cult, "The Sacred Halo of the Sun," drawn on the floor like a magic circle. The same pattern was carved into the walls, in front of which stood a giant statue of the angel Valtiel, worshipped by the Valtiel faction. Valtiel, a servant of God, was depicted with a robust body, torn skin, a distorted face without eyes, nose, or mouth, and the Sacred Halo of the Sun on both shoulders.
Underneath that statue hung Harry Mason. Bound with leather cuffs on his hands and feet, he was chained and completely immobilized. He had always known he might return to Silent Hill someday, but he never imagined it would be like this. Their target wasn’t him, but his daughter. They were using him as bait to lure Sharon back to Silent Hill. He had sacrificed his life to protect her from the cult's clutches all these years, and now this—. He bit his lip. He could only hope that when his daughter read the letter in the wooden box, she would resist the urge to come here. She must not return to this town. But she loves me. Despite the long years of a difficult life on the run, she grew up strong and kind. Because of this, she might come here, disregarding the danger, to save her father. Please, Sharon, don’t come. If anything happens to you, I’ll have broken my promise to Rose—
At that moment, cult members appeared from the corridor. Leading the group was a woman, followed by several men dressed in black robes. The woman, with long silver hair and a pale face, was Claudia Wolf, the current leader of the Valtiel faction, and the men following her were likely the cult's executives. As Harry watched tensely to see what would happen, the executives lined up along the wall, and Claudia stepped into the center of the circle.
"Bring Vincent here," she ordered.
At her command, a large man wearing a gas mask dragged a boy into the sanctuary. He seemed about the same age as Sharon. He was a handsome young man with black hair and dark eyes, but his hands were tied behind his back, and his face bore the marks of violence.
Claudia looked down coldly at the boy, who was forced to kneel at her feet.
"My son, Vincent, did you betray the cult?"
"I didn’t betray it. I just realized the truth. She isn’t a demon."
Claudia raised an eyebrow at Vincent’s defiant words.
"It seems your heart has been tainted by Alessa’s darkness."
She crouched down to Vincent's eye level and spoke.
"You were too young to fulfill this mission."
"It was you who created Alessa! The darkness reflects your own heart. She is pure. She’s not tainted."
The executives murmured in shock and confusion at Vincent’s words.
"Are you saying Alessa isn’t a demon?"
Claudia’s icy gaze fixed on her son. "Have you lost your mind, like your grandfather?"
"Traitors must burn!"
"A cleansing ritual for the tainted!"
"Divine judgment!"
The executives raised their voices, demanding Vincent’s execution, but Claudia silenced them with a sharp command.
"But Vincent, despite your poisoned heart, you have brought that girl back here."
Hearing this, Harry, who had been eavesdropping on the conversation, reacted with alarm.
Sharon is already in Silent Hill?
A shiver ran through Harry’s body. His daughter was in imminent danger. He had to do something before it was too late! But as he struggled, the chains merely rattled, and the restraints wouldn’t budge. Realizing his helplessness, he bit his lip until it bled. Claudia continued speaking.
"Looking at the results, it’s a success. Thanks to you, I can accomplish what your sister Christabella couldn’t. Yes, the day of salvation is near."
Harry furrowed his brow. The salvation the cult spoke of meant the resurrection of their god. Alessa’s incomplete form, possessing only an evil heart, couldn’t serve as a vessel for the god. Only Alessa, restored to her complete form with her good heart, could host and resurrect the god. If Sharon were absorbed by the evil Alessa and lost forever—. The thought sent chills down his spine, and he couldn’t stay still. He desperately tried to shake off the restraints, but the man watching over him punched him in the gut. The loud sound of the blow caught Claudia’s attention, and she glanced at Harry before quickly returning her gaze to her son.
"Don’t worry, Vincent. A broken heart can be mended."
Claudia’s slender, pale fingers lovingly brushed aside her son’s bangs. The young man’s expression quickly turned to one of fear as he pleaded in a trembling voice.
"Mother, please, no, not that!"
But Claudia ignored his plea and gave an order over her shoulder.
"Take my son to Brookhaven Hospital."
The large man in the gas mask immediately stepped forward and roughly hauled Vincent to his feet.
"Please, no!"
Vincent struggled desperately, but he was no match for the strong man, and he was mercilessly dragged out of the sanctuary. Judging by his terrified reaction, he was about to undergo some horrific treatment. Claudia Wolf, a cruel woman who showed no mercy even to her own son, had an icy smile that was illuminated by the red glow of the torches. Harry glared at the woman with intense hatred.
How much further?
After traversing the duct in a desperate state, Heather finally saw the end in sight. The mannequin monster, seemingly satisfied with capturing the girl, had not been felt pursuing her since. Still, she couldn't let her guard down, and she continued to advance, extremely tense, with only one thought: she had to get out of here as quickly as possible.
Reaching the dead end, Heather, aware of the risk of making a loud noise, kicked the ventilation grate a few times with her foot. It came off easily and fell to the other side, with a loud crash as it hit the ground. It seemed this area was slightly elevated. She carefully peeked through the opening to check the surroundings. The ground was about a meter and a half below, making it easy to descend. The city was eerily quiet, shrouded in the silence of the night. Looking ahead, she could see the large sign for “Brookhaven Hospital.”
Is Leonard Wolf here?
Heather felt her heart pound. She needed to obtain the other half of the Seal of Metatron to access the underground sanctuary. She landed on the ground and cautiously stepped toward the hospital entrance.
Whether it was the influence of Alessa's darkness or not, the road was strewn with debris like after a storm, and cars on the roadside were ablaze. The fence surrounding the hospital grounds was entirely rusted, creaking ominously with each gust of wind. Just then, she heard a sticky, unpleasant sound of footsteps coming from the darkness, and saw a bipedal monster, its upper body swaying side to side, approaching. She recognized its silhouette as something resembling a straitjacket.
The same one from the high school hallway.
Heather realized that the bizarre scenes at the school were eerily similar to the world she now stood in. Had Alessa’s influence already begun to creep into her heart back then? No, the repeated nightmares over the years had been a sign of her connection to Alessa. Now, she understood that she had always felt Alessa's presence, even subconsciously.
Noticing her location, the grotesque creature suddenly quickened its pace. Before it could catch up, Heather ran up the hospital steps and pushed open the entrance door.
The dark interior of the hospital, which she fled into, was in ruins, with no signs of life. She peeked into the office through the small reception window, but it was just as empty. The long hallway was desolate, with nothing but an abandoned wheelchair sitting there. Instead of rushing ahead recklessly, she needed to find some clue about Leonard's room. With this in mind, Heather decided to search the office for patient records.
Entering the office through the door, she found it just as deserted. In the flickering light of a desk lamp, Heather began searching the room, soon discovering a flashlight in a drawer. She switched it on to illuminate the room, revealing a large cabinet filled with patient files arranged alphabetically by name. She checked the "W" section but found no file for Leonard Wolf. She then searched under "L," but the result was the same. Could it be that his file didn’t exist, or that he wasn’t admitted to this hospital? Disheartened, Heather shone her flashlight around the room.
Special Ward?
A thick file labeled "Special Ward" was stored in the cabinet. The files she had been searching through earlier seemed to be from the general ward. The Special Ward's files were fewer in number, and sure enough, Leonard Wolf's name quickly surfaced, marked with "Cell Number S12." Now, Leonard's room was identified. Relieved, Heather had a sudden thought. If it's a cell, wouldn't it be locked? To receive the other half of the seal from him, she would have to enter the room.
Where's the key to the cell?
As she moved the circular light along the wall, it caught sight of a white, rectangular key box. She took out the key labeled "S12" and held it tightly. Now all that was left was to meet Leonard. Gripping the key, Heather nodded slightly to herself as if to reassure herself.
Just as she approached the door to leave the office, a radio on the desk suddenly turned on, startling her. Only white noise came through, likely due to an incorrect frequency setting. Thinking the power had accidentally been switched on, she decided not to worry about it and stepped into the hallway. However, just as she reached for the doorknob, she saw a shadow pass by the frosted glass of the door, causing her to hastily pull her hand back. Could it be a hospital staff member returning? If they discovered she had stolen the key, it would be troublesome.
Heather looked around the room and moved toward the door on the opposite side.
Quietly slipping outside, she spotted a floor plan on the bulletin board in front of her and confirmed the location of Room S12. It appeared to be on the second floor of this wing. After committing the route to memory, she began to walk, shining her flashlight down the long hallway. The far end of the corridor merged into the darkness, ominously gaping open. From somewhere in the distance, she occasionally heard unsettling screams. Perhaps it was a disturbed patient. Walking through the dark, decaying hospital was terrifying.
But there was no time to hesitate; her father needed her help. Imagining the horrors he might be enduring, her heart ached. She focused solely on rescuing him. Gathering her courage, Heather began walking down the corridor, relying only on the small beam of light from her flashlight. The light only revealed small fragments of the immense darkness around her.
Even though nothing was there, invisible terror spread infinitely nearby. Holding her breath and cautiously moving forward, Heather aimed for Leonard’s cell. The similar doors lined up one after another, making her anxious that she hadn’t moved from the spot. With each step she took, the desire to reach her destination quickly clashed with her fear of advancing further, but she did not stop. The sense of mission to save her father overpowered everything else.
Suddenly, sensing movement, Heather froze in her tracks. She turned the light toward the sound and saw a rat scurrying out from under a stretcher placed at the end of the hallway.
The tension broke all at once, and she exhaled deeply. She reprimanded herself for being so jumpy, calmed her breathing, and started walking again. Picking up the pace slightly, she passed by the stretcher. Just then, something unexpectedly coiled around her right ankle, and Heather stumbled forward.
"What!?"
She thought she had tripped over something, but just as she tried to stand up, she was violently dragged backward while lying face down. Looking over her shoulder, she saw a grotesque monster. Its face had a large hollow in the center, revealing sharp fangs. Heather screamed and struggled desperately, kicking the creature hard with her left foot. The monster released its grip and staggered back, giving her a chance to stand, but the enemy quickly regained its balance and lunged at her. The creature pinned Heather on her back and gripped her throat with both hands. Its fingers dug into her thin neck, squeezing tightly. Desperately trying to push the monster away, Heather found herself overpowered. Her consciousness began to fade. It was painful. She couldn’t breathe. Dad――. Just as her outstretched arm fell limply, her hand brushed against something on her waist. Realizing what it was, Heather’s eyes widened.
"The gun!"
Summoning all her strength, she pulled out the gun and shoved the barrel into the gaping hole in the monster’s face, pulling the trigger. The gunshot echoed deafeningly, and almost simultaneously, the monster collapsed, spewing blood and purple fluid from the back of its head. Breathing heavily, Heather staggered to her feet and looked down at the deformed creature. Its body twitched in a pool of blood, but eventually, it stopped moving entirely. Though she had narrowly escaped with her life, her body wouldn’t stop shaking. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried to calm down. Her teeth chattered as she finally managed to holster the gun again. The flashlight, secured by a loop around her wrist, had stayed close, preventing it from rolling into the darkness. However, the bag she had dropped during the struggle was nowhere to be found. She had no choice but to give it up. Fortunately, the most important item was safely tucked in her pocket. Heather checked through her vest to make sure the round metal plate and cell key were still there before resuming her walk down the hallway.
As Heather reached the end of the passageway, a staircase stretched upward. According to the map she had seen earlier, Room S12 should be on the second floor. Every step she took in the pitch-black darkness seemed to echo loudly, and although the occasional sound of her own footsteps startled her, she managed to reach the second floor safely. As she continued down the hallway, she noticed that it was different from the first floor. A sturdy iron grate blocked the passageway, as if to prevent anyone from proceeding further. Could this be the entrance to the special ward? Heather stared at the doors of several cells lined up beyond the grate. It felt as though this iron gate marked a boundary that shouldn’t be crossed.
"Your grandfather is dangerous. I can’t let you go alone," Vincent had said at the motel. It was easy to imagine that Leonard’s behavior was abnormal, given that he was locked up in a cell. Heather felt fear gripping her, but she couldn’t back down, not with her father’s life on the line. She had to get the other half of the seal, no matter what.
Resolute, Heather placed her hand on the iron grate’s handle. Thankfully, it wasn’t locked. The rusted iron door creaked open slowly with a loud metallic noise. She shone her flashlight at each door, checking the room numbers as she proceeded down the corridor. Room S12 was located about halfway down. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the key from her pocket and inserted it into the lock. With a slow turn to the right, the lock clicked open. Sliding the bolt, she cautiously pushed the thick door open.
As she slipped inside, the metal door slammed shut on its own with a resounding crash. The cell was pitch-black. Heather frowned, wondering if Leonard was trapped in this darkness. She directed her flashlight deeper into the room, but it was larger than expected, and the feeble beam wasn’t enough to immediately spot him. Then she heard the sound of chains scraping against the floor, coming from somewhere nearby, and her heart raced in panic. Was that the sound of a chain attached to leg irons? Moreover, the sound was getting closer. Terror gripped her. Something was definitely in the darkness, rushing toward her, but she couldn’t tell from which direction. Just as tension shot through her body, the chain’s noise abruptly stopped. It seemed to have reached its full length. Nervously, she pointed her flashlight directly in front of her. Suddenly, the face of an elderly man with white hair appeared, startling her so much that she jumped back in shock.
"…Are you Leonard Wolf?" Heather asked. The old man nodded, though he was looking in a completely different direction, and reached out slowly.
"Young lady, you’ve come far. Come closer, so I can touch you."
"No," she firmly refused, shining the light directly on Leonard’s face. His eyes, wandering aimlessly, were severely clouded, and his outstretched hand grasped only empty air. Was he blind? As she tilted her head in curiosity, the old man spoke again.
"Did Claudia send you here?"
"Claudia? The one who put you in this hospital?"
"Yes. She’s my daughter. She claims my heart has been poisoned by darkness and calls her own father a monster. But the truth is, her own heart is far more wicked—Claudia’s heart is also tainted by the same darkness," the old man spat out, his tone filled with indignation.
"I am the true Child of God. Even the angel Valtiel knows it. I just want to save my daughter. Do you also need saving, young lady?"
"I'm… looking for my father," Heather replied.
"Your father is missing?" Leonard raised an eyebrow.
"Yes. But I’m certain he’s in Silent Hill."
"But isn’t there more than one place called Silent Hill? Are you sure it’s this town?"
"I'm sure. Vincent told me you might have a clue to find him."
"Vincent, you say?" Leonard’s expression hardened at the mention of his grandson’s name. "That traitor! To be betrayed by my own grandson…!" he shouted angrily, but then suddenly, a sly smile appeared on his face.
"Listen, can you hear that? Those are Vincent’s screams of agony."
"Vincent is here?" Could he have been brought back to Silent Hill by the Missionary after he disappeared at the motel? While relieved that Vincent might still be alive, Heather also felt a pang of worry.
"Was he sent to the hospital too?"
"This town has no other place to correct a person’s mind. It seems my grandson’s heart has also been consumed by darkness."
"By 'correct,' do you mean he’s undergoing the same treatment as you?"
Would Vincent also be chained up and locked in a dark cell? A cloud of anxiety began to form within Heather.
"I’m still in the middle of my treatment. Or rather, I am an experiment," Leonard said, lifting his hair to reveal the stitched scars on his forehead and the back of his head. The sight of such grotesque wounds made Heather recoil. His entire head was covered in patchwork scars, as if he had undergone a lobotomy. However, despite her discomfort, the old man seemed to find the situation amusing and chuckled to himself. But Heather couldn’t forget why she was here. She had finally found Leonard, and now she needed to achieve her goal and move forward. Taking a small breath, she calmed herself and got to the point.
"Vincent mentioned that my father is in a sanctuary underground. And that there is a key to enter that sanctuary."
"Ha, there’s no such thing as a sanctuary," Leonard scoffed at Heather’s words. "No matter the path, all that awaits at the end is darkness."
Despite his dismissive response, Heather took out the circular metal plate from her pocket and pleaded with him.
"I have half of the Metatron Seal here. Please, I need the other half."
"What? You have one half of the Seal?" Leonard’s demeanor changed instantly. "You see, young lady, I’m blind. I can’t tell if the Seal is really there or not."
He extended his arm again.
"Could you place it in my hand? If I can touch it, I’ll be able to tell if it’s genuine. If it is, I might be able to help you."
Heather hesitated but knew she couldn’t move forward without taking risks. She looped the flashlight’s strap around her wrist and quietly drew her pistol from her waist.
Keeping the gun trained on Leonard, she placed the metal plate in his outstretched hand. The moment the Seal touched his palm, he cradled it lovingly in both hands. For a while, he traced the engravings on the metal plate with his fingers, then finally broke into a broad smile.
"Oh, this is indeed one half of the Metatron Seal. I’ve waited so long for this day…"
As Leonard joyfully held the metal plate, he looked like both a child who had finally gotten the toy they wanted and a drug addict who had just obtained the drug they desperately craved.
"Do you know what this is?" Heather glared at him, her gun aimed squarely at his face. Her hand, trembling with tension, held the weapon tightly.
"I was once a leader of the Order. Of course, I know what the Metatron Seal is. It was stolen many years ago by a woman named Rose."
"Rose?"
At the mention of that name, she flinched. The same name as her mother's?
"Yes. That woman used this to help her child escape. Unfortunately, with just one half, only one person can leave this town. So, the mother is either still wandering somewhere in the town or has died of exhaustion. I wouldn’t know—I was imprisoned."
That could be about her and her mother. For Heather, who had lost her memories of the past, her mother Rose was someone she only knew from photos, but Leonard's words stirred her deeply. In such a terrifying town, how desperately must her mother have tried to help her escape? She wanted to know more about her mother, but it seemed that her mother was someone Leonard despised for stealing half of the seal. If she probed too much, Leonard might refuse to cooperate. Heather decided to keep silent.
"In any case, without this, I can't summon God."
Leonard kissed the metal plate. His obsession seemed almost unnatural.
"Summon God? Isn't the Seal of Metatron a key?"
"It's both a key and something more. When the two metal plates are combined, a revelation from God will come."
"What do you mean? What happens when they become one key?"
"Do you want to know? You’ll see the true nature of the other."
Feeling uneasy, Heather's expression darkened. Not only was Leonard unlikely to give her the other half of the seal, but he might not even return the half she had just given him. In that case—She gripped her gun tightly and demanded,
"Leonard, where's the other half?"
"Oh, haven't you realized yet? It's already right in front of you."
The old man replied with a sinister smile. Heather was puzzled, trying to grasp the meaning of his words. In the next moment, Leonard did something completely unexpected.
"It's inside me!"
He shouted and then violently thrust the half of the seal he was holding into his chest. The flat metal plate cut through his skin like a blade, embedding itself into his flesh. Blood gushed from the wound, and the man screamed in agony.
"No—stop!"
Heather could do nothing but watch in horror as Leonard forcibly shoved the metal plate into his chest. As his screams echoed through the cell, the round seal completely entered his body, disappearing from sight.
"Oh, I can feel it. The two seals have combined within me, and the Seal of Metatron is now complete. Now, I can see your true nature."
Heather was shocked as she looked at Leonard's face. His once clouded eyes had cleared, now a bright emerald green. His vision had returned. He peered into her face and smirked before suddenly grabbing her by the throat.
"You're a demon! You must be destroyed!"
Heather struggled as Leonard's crazed gaze bore into her. As his hands squeezed her neck, she gritted her teeth and pressed the gun against his chest.
"...I won't... let it end... like this..."
As she pulled the trigger, a deafening gunshot rang out, and Leonard's body was thrown backward, disappearing into the darkness. Freed from Leonard's grip, Heather coughed violently and quickly ran to the door. She searched for a handle to open it but found nothing.
It can't be opened from the inside!
Just then, she heard a noise behind her, sending a shiver down her spine. The sound of chains dragging and a beastly roar, far from human, echoed heavily from the back of the cell. Leonard should have been shot in the chest, so that voice—? Nervously, she slowly turned around, shining her flashlight into the darkness. The faint, warm light revealed something in the shadows.
"I'll show you my true form, empowered by the Seal!"
It was Leonard's voice. Heather couldn't believe her eyes. What approached the light was no longer the weak old man she had seen earlier. The once frail body had transformed into a massive figure with bulging muscles, its face and body now covered in melting, grotesque skin. Having absorbed the Seal of Metatron, Leonard had turned into a terrifying monster. Dragging the chains violently, Leonard continued to advance toward her, but as he reached a certain point, the chains reached their limit and jerked him to a stop.
Facing the monstrous Leonard, with the door behind her, Heather swallowed hard. She quickly scanned the walls of the cell, desperately trying to think. If she could find another exit and move out of his reach, she might be able to escape. But things didn't go as she had hoped.
As Leonard, now with a powerful physique, took a step forward, the shackles' chain snapped easily, falling to the floor with a loud thud. The monster, now free of its restraints, loomed before her, and Heather was terrified. She frantically fired bullets at Leonard, each shot piercing his face and chest without mercy. Though each hit momentarily halted his advance, the small handgun was not enough to stop the monster. Soon, she ran out of bullets, and the gun clicked uselessly as she continued to pull the trigger.
What do I do?
Frozen in fear, Heather looked up at the towering brute. His log-sized arm came crashing down, knocking the gun from her hand.
"If the cult obtains you, they can break Alessa's curse. Then our god will be reborn and renew this world."
"The cult wants to bring about the end of the world? Do you think Alessa will just let that happen? You and your god will be sealed in this town forever—"
"Shut up!"
A massive hand struck her, slamming her body hard onto the floor. The impact was so intense that her consciousness began to fade, but she vaguely realized that Leonard had picked her up and slung her over his shoulder.
The monster broke down the cell door with brute force and walked out into the corridor, heading somewhere. Each step resounded like an earthquake. Heather had no idea where she was being taken. Though dizzy and disoriented, she glanced around while being jostled on Leonard's shoulder. The light from the flashlight dangling from her wrist swung side to side, illuminating walls covered in dark red stains as if splattered with blood. Strange moans and screams echoed from all directions, making her feel as if she was on a path leading straight to hell. No, it wasn't an illusion. If she didn't do something, hell was indeed where she would end up. But no matter how much she fretted, she felt utterly powerless. What could she possibly do in such a situation?
Shifting her gaze, Heather noticed Leonard's chest. The bullet wounds from her shots had torn through the skin and flesh, resembling the split of a ripe pomegranate. Just as she was about to turn away, she noticed something glowing inside the monster's body. The orange light was circular.
The Seal of Metatron!
Leonard had said it. The two seals had combined within his body, completing the Seal of Metatron. Heather slowly extended her arm, careful not to alert him.
"Have you realized? Perfect timing. You should praise your fate while you still can. The moment has finally come for you to serve the cult."
Suddenly spoken to by the monster, she was startled. However, it seemed that the creature hadn't noticed what she was trying to do. Heather made up her mind and quickly thrust her arm into the wound on Leonard's chest.
"As if I let things go your way!"
The creature's hot, soft flesh and mucus clung to her hand, making her feel nauseous. But she desperately pushed her arm further, digging through the flesh with her fingers, trying to grasp the glowing object inside his chest. Leonard, sensing something was wrong, frantically twisted his body, but Heather managed to grab hold of the seal before she was shaken off. As she was slammed onto the floor, Leonard's arm came crashing down, aiming to reclaim the Metatron Seal from her.
Shit. I can’t escape.
The enemy’s fist was coming at her with incredible speed. Unable to move, she shut her eyes tightly.
Bam!
The next moment, an ear-splitting scream echoed, and a shocked Heather opened her eyes. What she saw was an unexpected sight. The creature’s body, having lost the power of the seal, was crumbling apart. Its limbs turned to dust, followed by its chest, stomach, and face, all pulverizing and dissipating into the wind.
Heather stood there, dumbfounded, unable to immediately comprehend what had just happened. She glanced down at the glowing orange metal plate in her hand and traced the patterns of the seal with her fingers. She had finally obtained the key. Now she could enter the sanctuary. She had to hurry to her father’s side…
Her body ached, causing her to grimace as she slowly stood up and looked down the straight corridor. However, with only the faint light of her flashlight, the path ahead was swallowed by pitch-black darkness, hiding whatever awaited her in the distance. The fear of terrifying, grotesque monsters potentially lurking in the dark froze her in place. Summoning the courage to move forward was a battle with herself. She was utterly terrified, but there was no turning back now. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Memories of the days she had lived with her father resurfaced. She had always lived in fear, constantly worrying about how others saw her. Even so, her father’s kindness was her salvation, always easing her fears. And now, she had learned of her mother’s desperate actions for the first time—thanks to her parents' deep love and bravery, she was still alive. She couldn’t let their efforts and feelings be in vain. Both of them surely wanted her to be strong, to live on, and to grab hold of her own happiness even after they were gone. Dad, Mom, I won’t give up.
Heather set her lips in a determined line, made up her mind, and took a step forward.
She quietly moved forward, lighting the darkness as she went. Though she felt terribly alone, a faint part of her mind sensed Alessa's presence.
"Alessa, you can feel me too, can't you?" She spoke to the unseen presence. "I've finally obtained the Seal of Metatron."
There was no reply. Even so, Heather couldn't shake the feeling that Alessa was beckoning her from beyond the darkness.
Turning a corner, she noticed that the inside of the building seemed somehow different. The walls on either side of the corridor had turned into iron bars, resembling a series of prison cells. She held her breath and moved as quietly as possible, praying that no one was there and that nothing would happen. Suddenly, a noise came from the back of a cage on her right, causing Heather to jump and press herself against the left side. Just then, two arms shot out from between the iron bars on the left, grabbing her head in a tight grip. The unexpected event made her heart leap in terror.
"Gotcha, little lady!"
The man in the cage shouted gleefully. She struggled, yelling "Let go of me!" and somehow managed to slip out of his grasp. But as soon as she moved to the other side, another hand reached out from between the bars, this time wrapping a hairy arm around her neck.
"The girl is mine!"
The owner of the laughing voice had a strong grip, and no matter how much Heather hit him with her fists or kicked, he didn't budge. As she continued to struggle, the arm tightened around her neck, cutting off her air supply. She realized she was about to pass out. Gasping, she bit down hard on the man's arm. He screamed in pain and loosened his grip, allowing Heather to collapse onto the floor.
As she slowly caught her breath and lifted her head, she was struck speechless by the sight before her. Countless arms were reaching out from both sides of the long corridor, grasping at the air like a forest of seaweed swaying underwater. How many people were trapped in these cages? She had barely summoned the courage to move forward, and now this happened. Even Heather, strong as she was, felt herself mentally pushed to the brink.
"I can't take this anymore! Someone help me!" She curled up on the floor, sobbing.
Just then, the floor vibrated, causing Heather to raise her head. As she listened carefully, she heard a different sound from the unsettling voices of the men—heavy, metallic footsteps. Cautiously, she shined her flashlight down the hallway and saw a man with a pyramid-shaped helmet— the same monstrous figure she had seen turning the merry-go-round in her nightmare. The Pyramid Head figure was walking toward her, dragging a huge cleaver. The noise she had felt earlier must have been the vibration of the cleaver scraping against the floor. As Heather watched in tense silence, the man began to swing his cleaver, severing the arms that protruded from the cages one after another. It was a scene straight out of hell. Arms fell to the ground, spraying blood as they rolled. The man with the pyramid head methodically continued his work, as if he were cutting down weeds. The term "executioner" that her father had written in his notebook seemed fitting. Frozen in fear, Heather realized she needed to hide before the cleaver-wielding man reached her. Shining her flashlight around, she noticed a small recess on the left side up ahead. If she moved quickly and hid there, she might have a chance. She crouched low, moved forward, and quickly slipped into the recess, pressing herself against the wall.
Just as she did, a severed arm dropped in front of her, splattering blood. She hastily covered her mouth to stifle a scream. The next moment, the blood-soaked cleaver passed right in front of her face. Paralyzed with shock, she couldn't move for a while.
The sound of the dragging cleaver stopped, and the noise of chopping and the men's screams faded away. All she could hear now were the anguished moans of those whose arms had been cut off. When she finally gathered the courage to move, Heather noticed a staircase leading down behind the recess. Realizing that the Pyramid Head creature might still be nearby, she decided to descend to the lower level.
At the bottom of the stairs, she found herself in another long corridor, similar to the one above. However, this area was dimly lit, allowing her to see her surroundings more clearly. Even a small amount of light made her feel somewhat relieved. It didn’t appear that there were any cages here. Just as she was about to step into the corridor, she heard footsteps and quickly hid behind the stairs. Two men in gas masks hurried past, pushing a stretcher.
"Stop! Please, don’t take me!"
The patient strapped to the stretcher pleaded desperately, but the men ignored him.
"Don't take me there!"
Heather caught a glimpse of the patient’s face and was shocked.
Vincent.
If what Leonard said was true, Vincent would not only be tortured but also subjected to some horrifying surgery, just like his grandfather. Heather couldn’t stand the thought and decided to secretly follow them.
After passing through the dim corridor, the men pushed the stretcher into a room. Heather saw the sign “Operating Room” and felt her worst fears were about to come true. She peeked through a crack in the door to observe what was happening inside. Contrary to her expectations of a cold, sterile operating room, this one was vastly different. Bloodstains covered the walls and floor, and what looked like parts of a human body lay on the operating table. In one corner of the room, several bodies, perhaps failed experiments, were piled up. Each had a gruesome wound on its head. But the most bizarre sight was the fifteen mannequins standing closely together. Each wore a nurse's uniform and held a knife or scalpel. Though their faces had no eyes, noses, or mouths, their grotesquely raised surfaces didn’t resemble the smooth plastic of typical mannequins.
No. Those aren’t mannequins. They’re some kind of twisted creatures.
The creatures writhed and moved each time the stretcher made a sound, as if they were reacting to it. It seemed these nurses were drawn to sound.
"Hey, be quiet," one of the gas-masked men whispered to the other. "Or the nurses will get us."
But the other man ignored the warning and shoved a stun baton into the exposed chest of one of the approaching nurses. The electric current crackled, causing the nurse to spasm violently before collapsing to the floor.
"Hah, serves you right," the man sneered, but the loud sound had drawn the attention of all the nurses.
"Watch out! Behind you!"
His partner shouted, but it was too late. The nurses, armed with knives, surrounded the man. One of them stabbed him in the small gap between his gas mask and protective suit, causing him to kneel. That initial stab triggered a flurry of attacks, as the nurses slashed mercilessly at his body. Though the suit provided some protection, the relentless assault, especially on his head, eventually dislodged his gas mask. The moment his face was exposed, he let out a piercing scream. Reacting to the scream, the nurses’ attacks grew even more ferocious. Within moments, the man was brutally stabbed to death, collapsing in a pool of blood.
"Ahhh!"
Terrified by the nurses’ savagery, the other man frantically tried to leave the operating room. In his panic, he knocked over a tray of forceps and scalpels, sending them clattering to the floor. The loud metallic sound instantly drew the nurses’ attention to their new target.
"Stay back! Don’t come any closer!"
The man swung his arms wildly in a desperate attempt to fend them off, but he was outnumbered. Even when knocked down, the nurses quickly got back up and closed in on him. As the sharp blades repeatedly stabbed into him, his protective suit became useless, and his flesh was mercilessly sliced apart. Eventually, the man collapsed to the floor, and the impact caused his gas mask to slip, exposing the lower half of his face. He let out a blood-curdling scream, which only intensified the nurses’ ferocity. Before long, he was brutally stabbed to death as well.
Now’s my chance to sneak in while the nurses are distracted by the men.
Heather took advantage of the chaos and quietly slipped into the operating room through the door crack, carefully approaching Vincent’s stretcher. The nurses continued stabbing the gas-masked man until he was dead, and when he finally stopped moving, their frenzied actions ceased as well. Crouching beside the stretcher, Heather whispered urgently.
“Vincent.”
“Heather?”
He noticed the voice and looked around nervously.
Heather peeked out from the stretcher and replied, "Over here."
"Why are you here?"
Vincent's eyes widened in surprise.
"I've obtained the Seal of Metatron. Where is the Sanctuary?"
"We can discuss the details later. We need to get out of here first."
The nurses, who had been listening closely to their faint conversation, twisted their heads eerily. As Vincent glanced at them, he asked Heather, "Can you remove these restraints?"
"Got it."
She nodded and began to unbuckle the leather straps holding Vincent down. But the metal clasps made a clattering noise, causing the nurses to take a step closer.
"Hurry up!"
"I'm going as fast as I can!"
She first unbuckled the straps around his legs, then moved on to the ones around his waist. As she loosened the strap on his right hand, the nurses drew near, raising their blades.
"Hey, You done yet?"
"Almost there."
Vincent's right hand was freed. Only the left hand remained. However, the lead nurse was now right beside the stretcher and swung her scalpel down forcefully.
"Vincent, watch out!"
Heather's warning snapped him to attention, and he quickly raised his upper body, twisting to the right. The nurse's scalpel sliced through the air, narrowly missing him. Though he avoided the attack by a hair's breadth, the stretcher tilted from his sudden movement and began to topple towards Heather. The metal stretcher clanged loudly as it hit the floor, prompting the nurses to rush towards them.
"This strap won't come off!"
The more desperate she became, the more her hands shook, fumbling with the metal clasps and making unnecessary noise.
"Hurry!"
"I can't do it. I'll have to cut it."
Heather scanned the area and spotted a scalpel lying on the floor, likely dropped earlier by the man in the gas mask. By now, the nurses had reached them and were persistently slashing their blades downwards. Luckily, the fallen stretcher acted as a shield, protecting them from the nurses' fierce attacks. While Vincent frantically tried to remove the strap on his left hand, Heather crawled out from beside the stretcher, eyeing the nurses' feet as she reached for the scalpel on the floor. The flashlight dangling from her wrist clinked as it hit the ground. One of the nurses standing nearby instantly picked up on the sound, turning swiftly and attempting to stab her with the tip of her knife. Grabbing the scalpel, Heather quickly rolled back behind the stretcher, and the nurse's blade struck the floor in vain.
Though her heart was pounding, she managed to secure the scalpel.
As Heather worked with the scalpel, the nurses continued to strike at the stretcher. The blades clanged against the metal, and each time, the nurses reacted by attacking again. Vincent kept his head low, watching Heather intently as she worked. Eventually, the strap began to fray, and the metal clasp snapped off at the base.
"I got it!"
"Great."
Now free, Vincent looked at her.
"Let's push the stretcher and get out of the operating room while they are down. On the count of three, we'll push with all our strength."
Heather nodded as he began counting.
"One, two, three!"
They synchronized their efforts and forcefully shoved the stretcher forward. The metal bed slid swiftly, knocking the nurses over like bowling pins. Before they could recover, Vincent and Heather bolted out of the operating room and into the hallway.
"This way!"
Vincent grabbed Heather's hand, leading her through the hospital. With him by her side, the long, dark, maze-like corridors felt less terrifying, and she was grateful to have him with her. Eventually, they managed to exit through the back door of Brookhaven Hospital.
"Something's wrong."
Vincent furrowed his brows as he observed the surroundings.
"The darkness should have dissipated by now."
"Does it usually return to normal sooner? Why isn't it clearing up today?"
They walked through the hospital's back alley towards the main street.
"It’s probably because you’re here. With both Alessa and you nearby, something must be different this time. Maybe the cult's teaching that the world will change if Alessa and her double, you, reunite isn't entirely wrong."
"The world will change… What will happen? Will humanity be wiped out?"
"To be honest, I don't know."
Vincent shrugged and gave a small smile.
"It might be up to you."
Up to me. Vincent's words weighed heavily on her. She couldn't even begin to imagine what it would feel like to reunite with Alessa. If she was absorbed by Alessa, would she cease to exist? Would her consciousness and body vanish entirely? Trying to shake off the unspeakable fear, Heather shook her head.
They continued walking in silence for a while.
"Hey, where is the Sanctuary? That's where my dad is, right?"
"The Sanctuary is underground, beneath the Lakeside Amusement Park. We're heading there now."
Before long, they reached a large street and stopped at the edge of the back alley.
"The Brethren are patrolling the streets. Stay hidden."
Following his lead, Heather pressed herself against the wall to stay out of sight from the main road. Dark figures moved back and forth along the dimly lit street.
"The Brethren, the guys in gas masks and protective suits? Why are they dressed like that? Are they some kind of soldiers?"
She quickly asked the questions that had been on her mind, and Vincent answered without a hint of irritation.
"They're like the town's security force, made up of the cult's most devoted followers. They're fanatically loyal, willing to sacrifice their lives for the cult. Although the Brethren are tough and ruthless, they do have a weakness. In the world of darkness, they can't breathe without their gas masks. If they inhale the air directly, it will kill them."
Come to think of it, when the two Brethren in the operating room were attacked by the nurses, they became helpless as soon as their gas masks were removed.
"Once they pass by, we'll cross the street and head down the alley on the other side. When I give the signal, run as fast as you can. Got it?"
Heather nodded emphatically at Vincent's instructions. They held their breath, carefully watching the movements of the men in black. The Brethren seemed to be patrolling in pairs, but since they were assigned to specific routes, another pair would soon appear after the first. The streets were empty for only a brief moment.
"They're being extra careful tonight," Vincent muttered. The reason was all too clear.
"Go!"
At his command, they dashed across the main street, heading for the narrow passage ahead. Vincent and Heather slipped into the alley almost simultaneously, pressing their bodies against the wall. As they caught their breath, they checked the Brethren's movements, but the main street remained quiet.
"Looks like we weren’t spotted."
Vincent peeked out from behind the wall, letting out a sigh of relief. Heather, exasperated, remarked, "I can't believe you live in a place like this. Constantly shrouded in darkness, attacked by monstrous creatures, and under the watchful eyes of the Brethren..."
Vincent turned to her and shrugged.
"I've lived like this since I was born. This is my reality. Sometimes, when the darkness doesn’t come for a while, I hope it won’t return at all, but it always does. Only the older folks remember Silent Hill before it became like this."
"The cult tried to create a god by burning a little girl alive, but what they ended up with was a demon... They're paying the price for that sin."
"Yeah, everyone knows it deep down, even if they don’t say it out loud," Vincent answered with a somber expression.
They continued walking down the straight path. As she walked beside him, Heather reflected on all the information she had gathered so far.
If Alessa, who has become a demon, absorbs the good part of herself, then Alessa will become whole again, making her a vessel for the god and leading to its rebirth. The cult's plan started to make some sense to her. However, if Alessa isn't destroyed, the curse won't be lifted, and the cult members will remain trapped in Silent Hill. What will the cult do then? Will they sacrifice Alessa's life to bring forth the god? Or will the god they create destroy Alessa? And if she does merge with Alessa, what will become of her? No matter how much she thought about it, there were no answers, and a growing unease swirled inside her. The only thing she was sure of was that she couldn't let the cult have its way. Vincent had suggested earlier that her father might be disposed of once he was no longer useful. She wouldn't allow that to happen. She came to Silent Hill to save him.
Vincent walked through the side street and stopped in front of an iron gate.
"The amusement park is just over there."
He nodded in the direction, and Heather followed his gaze to see the entrance to the park beyond the trees. It was a gate shaped like a creepy clown's face, exactly like the one she had seen in her nightmare. Heather swallowed hard.
"The path is inside the park. You ready?"
He looked at her with concern.
"If I weren't ready, I wouldn't have come this far," Heather replied, shaking off his kind gaze and pushing open the heavy door. She continued walking through the woods without looking back. Her dad was close. She was eager to see him, and her pace quickened on its own.
"Do you really think you can save him?" Vincent, who was walking beside her, asked.
"I'm not thinking about whether I can or can't. I just have to try. My dad has lived his whole life to protect me. I can't just leave him to die."
"But your father probably wants you to turn back right now."
"I don't wanna hear it."
Heather quickened her pace again, and Vincent matched her stride.
"Your father has protected you at the risk of his own life. Do you think he wants you to be in danger? If he loves you, wouldn't he want you to be safe?"
They reached the clown entrance gate, and Vincent grabbed Heather's hand to stop her. She turned and looked into his dark eyes. They were filled with concern. His strong, warm hand held hers. She understood Vincent's feelings all too well. But...
"If you really love someone, you can't just abandon them when they're in trouble," Heather said, shaking off Vincent's hand and stepping through the clown's face. The amusement park, sunk in darkness, was silent and deserted. Everything in the park was old, rusty, and decaying—a desolate place. Heather was startled. It felt just like the nightmare she had seen. The only difference was that Vincent was by her side, and they were not being chased by men in black robes.
"The cult will definitely come after you. I'm sorry, but I don't think we'll make it to the sanctuary safely," Vincent said as they walked along the dimly lit path. He kept glancing over his shoulder, worried about what might be behind them.
"I know. The cult needs me, right?"
"Yeah, they think you're the vessel for God."
"The vessel for God... What does that mean?" Heather asked, furrowing her brow.
"It means that God's spirit will reside and grow in your body."
"So like carrying a baby? The vessel is the womb? That's fucking gross."
"It would be the worst possible outcome. If you carry God, there's no guarantee you'll survive."
Vincent was trembling with anger, biting his lip and clenching his fists.
"Even so, I have to save my dad," Heather declared.
Suddenly, the amusement park lights flickered on, illuminating the rides and stalls. Mechanical dolls began to laugh and nod their heads, and the Ferris wheel slowly started turning. Heather looked at Vincent in shock. Were they aware of their arrival?
"Shit! It's them!"
Vincent grabbed Heather's hand and led her behind a shooting gallery booth. From the shadows, they peered out and saw the round beams of several flashlights approaching.
"Are those our pursuers?"
"Yeah, it's the Brethren. I count about ten of them."
"Staying here won't help. We need to move."
Heather started to get up, but Vincent grabbed her arm and pulled her close. His face was inches from hers.
"No, look over there."
Following Vincent's gaze, Heather saw more of the Brethren. They were everywhere, searching the area. There was no way to move forward.
"What do we do now?"
She felt hopeless. Her father was so close, yet so far.
"Heather," Vincent spoke with a grim expression. "Find your father safely. I hope you can be free and live happily ever after. This is all I can do for you now."
"Wait... What are you doing?" Heather's brow furrowed in concern. Something was off.
"Is this what it feels like to love someone? I think I understand a little now."
Vincent gave a small smile and then pressed his lips to hers. Heather was taken aback by the sudden kiss, her eyes wide. After pulling away, Vincent smiled gently as usual, then suddenly bolted away.
"Vincent, no!"
Ignoring her plea, Vincent deliberately made noise as he ran to the opposite side of the park. The Brethren, noticing him, immediately gave chase. Vincent had made himself a decoy to draw the pursuers away. Heather was overwhelmed by his kindness and covered her face as she crouched down, her heart breaking. She prayed that he would escape safely without getting caught. And she resolved not to waste the chance Vincent had given her by risking his life. Wiping away her tears, she raised her head.
Dad is waiting for me.
Heather took stock of her surroundings. Turning to the side, she saw a row of semicircular fishbowls lined up on a wooden shelf. The water in each bowl was murky green, clearly neglected. The dying goldfish inside floated slowly in the dirty water. Next to them was a large, filthy pink rabbit plush toy. This scene, too, was from her dream. Was that dream a premonition? If the dream and reality were the same, then that rabbit doll's head would turn around and face her. Heather stared at the rabbit for a while, but nothing happened. She turned to face forward and began to consider her next move. While not identical, the nightmare must be guiding her. If that were the case, then the next place to go would be—the carousel? Heather stood up and, intending to check the location of the attraction, peeked around the corner of the booth. But at that moment, a gas-masked face suddenly appeared before her. She screamed and tried to run, but the man's arm tightly held her down. She struggled desperately, but a teenage girl was no match for him. Worse, she saw more of the Brethren approaching, alerted by her scream. At this rate, she would be captured. She couldn't save her father, and Vincent's sacrifice would be in vain. That was something she couldn't bear!
Heather kicked the man in the thigh with all her might. As he flinched, she grabbed the gas mask and tore it off with all her strength. The man's eyes widened in shock as black blood poured from his mouth, and he collapsed. Ignoring the advancing Brethren, Heather ran towards the carousel. Relying solely on her memory of the dream and her instincts, she sprinted through the park. Before long, she saw the overlapping horses of the carousel ahead.
There it is!
As she reached it, a man with a triangular head began to turn a large handle next to the central pillar, and the carousel started to move. As the horses rose and fell, she peeked around them and saw the Brethren approaching, surrounding the carousel. But before they could reach her, they suddenly burst into flames. One by one, the fire spread, and the pursuers were consumed by it. Their protective suits and gas masks were no match for the blazing inferno. Soon, the carousel was engulfed in flames, and the world around her turned orange. She looked for an escape route, but the area was a sea of fire. She dreaded what would happen next—just like in her nightmare. She would be burned alive by the crimson flames. Alive... Suddenly, Heather felt eyes on her back and turned around. Among the moving horses, someone stood there.
She squinted and gasped.
"――Alessa!!!"
It was Alessa, a little girl in a school uniform. Long black hair, moist black eyes, pale skin—a cute girl. She was the same as the one who had appeared in Heather's memory when she met Alessa's mother in the square, but before she was burned...
"You're Alessa, aren't you?"
Heather took a step forward and spoke to the innocent girl who was staring at her. When she reached out her hand, the girl changed. Blisters began forming on her face, and her skin started to burn. Her flesh peeled away, exposing raw muscle, and her expression turned to one of unbearable agony. Heather understood. The horrific transformation of Silent Hill into the world of darkness was a manifestation of Alessa's suffering as she burned. Soon, the girl before her vanished, as if consumed by flames.
"Daughter――"
A voice came from right behind her, and Heather turned around in shock. There stood a girl who looked exactly like her. The same height, the same hairstyle, the same face—she was like a mirror image. But her appearance was drastically different, as she was hideously burned, just like Alessa.
"Sister. And my other self. That's what you are. You already know who you truly are, don't you?"
Is this the grown-up form of Alessa? Heather frowned.
"I am myself! Not you."
"I gave you life. You are my other self, living my dream. A part of me that can feel love without knowing this pain."
Alessa, her face horribly scarred by burns, glared at her.
"Don't you feel anything?"
"Nothing but hate."
"They say you're a demon."
"They are right."
Alessa's intense gaze was filled with hatred. The strongest emotions a human can possess are love and hate. These two always coexist. Strong affection for someone can, under certain circumstances, turn into hatred. If that's the case, then maybe Alessa and I are two sides of the same coin. At that moment, she realized that the speed of the carousel was increasing unnaturally. The Pyramid Head man continued to turn the handle without pause, and the scenery outside passed by at an incredible speed. Next, it started to rise gradually. What's going on? Is the carousel sinking underground as it spins? Heather doubted her eyes.
"Is this nightmare something you created?"
She questioned Alessa in confusion.
"In Silent Hill, everyone experiences a different nightmare. I am the symbol of that. People create their own worlds, in which they are trapped. So, this is a nightmare you created yourself."
"I don't understand any of this. I have to go save my dad!"
Alessa gave a thin, malicious smile.
"Dad? He is not my dad, and certainly not yours. He's just a sacrifice."
"Why don't you just go straight to hell!"
Alessa laughed off Heather's words.
"Don't you see? We're already here."
As soon as she said that, Alessa's right hand seized Heather's neck.
"And there's no place for you here."
Alessa's fingers dug into her neck, and Heather's face twisted in pain.
"Let go…"
"You thought I wouldn't kill you, my other self."
The carousel spun even faster, and the outside scenery was no longer visible. Instead, walls of roaring flames surrounded the attraction. Heather could feel her life being drained away by Alessa's fingertips. Her soul, her emotions, everything that made her herself was seeping out of her body. At this rate, she would be absorbed by Alessa. But Heather didn't resist. She knew she couldn't overpower Alessa by force. So—
"Can you really kill me? I am you—the part of you that can feel love."
With that, Heather hugged Alessa tightly. She wrapped her arms around her and held her close. Even so, Alessa continued to drain Heather's life. Now, Heather's skin was becoming as horribly burned as Alessa's. It was only a matter of time before the evil Alessa would absorb her.
"I’m taking back what I gave you," Alessa said triumphantly.
Yet Heather did not give up. If love can turn into hatred, then surely hatred can be turned into love. Heather was certain, though she had never heard of hatred turning into love. As she held on tightly, she tried to remember how much her parents had loved her. Then, fragments of closed-off memories began to emerge from deep within her heart. The two who adopted me from the orphanage were truly filled with happiness. They panicked when I cried and rejoiced just because I smiled. Mom's's lullabies. Dad giving me piggyback rides. Picnics in the meadows, swimming at the beach, trips to the zoo. Every path I walked with my parents, every breeze I felt, every blue sky I looked up at. I was never afraid, bathed in the boundless love of my parents. A world full of hope stretched before me.
Alessa, you were the same. Your mother, Dahlia Gillespie, loved you from the bottom of her heart. Watching you grow day by day was her greatest happiness, and you were her everything. Though she didn't know your father, and you were called a witch, Dahlia suffered every day, trying to ease your pain. That day, she had you undergo the cult's ritual because she believed it could save you from suffering. Dahlia was deceived by the cult, and when she realized the truth, it was too late. Dahlia, who had subjected her beloved child to a living hell, spends her days in regret, constantly apologizing to you. Even now, you are still enveloped by her deep love—
When she noticed, Alessa's grip had loosened.
"Mommy…"
The girl muttered in a small voice as tears streamed down her cheeks.
"Alessa, love is stronger than hate. I'm sure you can feel it too."
Heather hugged Alessa even tighter. She felt life surge through her body and her strength return.
"We have become one again—"
As she said that, Alessa looked at her. In those black eyes, there was no longer any hatred or anger. The Alessa in Heather's arms smiled faintly, then began to disintegrate into ash, scattering into the air as if burning away from the inside.
"Alessa…"
Suddenly, Heather was overwhelmed by intense fatigue and collapsed on the spot.
The carousel spun, engulfed in flames, rotating fiercely for some time. Just how deep underground was it going? In her fading consciousness, Heather braced herself for the possibility that she might be descending to the very depths of hell. Gradually, the speed slowed, and she eventually realized that the horses had come to a stop.
She blinked several times and tried to stand, but her body felt as heavy as lead. The confrontation with Alessa had clearly taken a significant toll on her physically. Mustering her strength, she managed to get up and look around. As expected, Alessa was nowhere to be seen, and the Pyramid Head figure had stopped moving. The flames had completely vanished, and concrete walls now surrounded her. It seemed as though the carousel had been stored in some underground warehouse. As her gaze wandered, she noticed a large iron door directly in front of her.
Is that the entrance to the sanctuary?
Heather wobbled off the carousel and made her way toward the entrance. The iron door, though rusted, exuded a solemn atmosphere. However, it had neither a handle nor a latch. At about chest height was a circular indentation with a complex pattern carved into it. Could this be where she was supposed to place the Seal of Metatron? Heather took out the seal from her pocket and compared the patterns on both sides of it. They were similar, but upon closer inspection, the designs on each side were different. One side depicted a snake inside a central triangle, while the other featured a geometric pattern reminiscent of a diamond's surface. She carefully observed the shape carved into the door’s indentation and matched it with the corresponding side of the seal. The moment she placed it, the seal fit snugly into the indentation, and the entire door began to emit a faint glow. A pattern of light started to emerge on the door's surface, but the door still didn’t open. Heather tilted her head in confusion. Had she placed it in the wrong orientation? She tried to remove the seal, but the metal plate, which had fit perfectly, wouldn’t budge.
She thought for a moment, then realized something. The lines of light and the seal's lines were similar, but slightly misaligned. If she could align them, the seal’s pattern would seamlessly merge with the door’s. Heather rotated the seal clockwise. As expected, it moved slowly until the light’s lines aligned, at which point a clicking sound was heard, and it stopped moving. Immediately after, there was the sound of gears turning inside the door, and the heavy iron door began to open with a rumbling noise, similar to an earthquake.
As the door opened, the light faded, and the seal naturally popped out of the indentation and fell to the floor. Heather picked it up, put it back in her pocket, and stepped inside.
It was a vast underground fortress. The ceiling, with hanging lights, was incredibly high, and the corridor was wide. Both the walls and pillars were made of sturdy concrete. Though parts of the reinforcing bars were exposed here and there, there were no signs of rust. Heather cautiously proceeded along the quiet corridor, eventually emerging into a dark area resembling a courtyard. Unsure of what might be lurking there, she felt tense. She turned on her flashlight and moved forward carefully, illuminating her path. In the distance, she saw the light of several torches and felt drawn towards them.
She approached what seemed to be a stage, with several pillars standing around a large circular floor. As she got closer, she noticed a large number of people standing under the red torchlight. On the wall in front of them was the emblem of the Order—a symbol of the sun's holy ring. Beneath it, there was a large statue depicting a giant kneeling with bent knees. Underneath this statue, someone was bound with shackles and handcuffs. Could it be…?
“Dad…”
Realizing it was her father, Heather impulsively ran towards the circular stage. Hearing her voice, Harry looked up in surprise and called out her real name, "Sharon." Heather’s heart ached at the sight of her father’s haggard appearance. She had finally made it this far. Dad, I’m going to save you now.
As she stepped onto the circular stage, a tall woman with silver hair and a pale face strode towards her. Although she was beautiful, her icy eyes sent a shiver down Heather’s spine, making her stop in her tracks.
“Don’t you dare lay a hand on my daughter!” Harry shouted, but the woman didn’t even flinch and faced Heather. A silence fell, broken only by the crackling of the torches. The circular floor was engraved with a pattern resembling a magic circle, but upon closer inspection, it was also the sun's holy ring. Beside them, Vincent, who had been forcibly restrained by two of the Brethren, was kneeling. His face was bruised, likely from being beaten. Catching his sorrowful gaze, Heather bit her lip.
“What is it that you want?” Heather asked, turning her gaze back to the woman standing directly in front of her with a resolute tone.
“You're quite spirited, aren’t you?” The pale-faced woman sneered.
“As a courtesy, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Claudia Wolf, the leader of the Order. Though I’m sure you already know, I’m the daughter of Leonard Wolf and the mother of Vincent.”
“How can you treat your own family with so much cruelty?” Heather’s words, as she glanced at Vincent, were met with Claudia's laughter.
“Cruelty? I was merely trying to purify the hearts of my father and son, who had been poisoned by Alessa.”
“It was your Order that turned Alessa into a demon and made her create the darkness! How could you burn an innocent child alive?” Heather spoke with genuine emotion. If the Order hadn’t deceived Dahlia and subjected Alessa to that atrocious ritual, the town wouldn’t have ended up like this.
But Claudia, unbothered, simply smiled and spread her arms wide.
“Look around you. This is the sanctuary of our Order, the last place untouched by Alessa’s darkness. However, even this sanctuary is now on the verge of falling into the hands of the demon.”
Claudia lowered her hands and began to slowly circle around Heather.
“But now, you have finally appeared here. It is divine will. How joyous! You have delivered us.”
“Delivered? I haven’t done shit,” Heather snapped, glaring at Claudia. A mix of anger and sadness welled up from deep within her. Perhaps it wasn’t entirely her own feelings but rather those that Alessa had harbored. They were that intense.
“You have accomplished everything. You defeated Alessa and retrieved the Seal of Metatron. You are our savior.” Claudia approached Heather from the front and stroked her cheek with her long, thin fingers. A wave of revulsion swept over Heather, making her skin crawl.
“If you truly believe that, then let my dad go,” Heather pleaded.
“No,” Claudia immediately dismissed her request. “His blood will be offered to the resurrected God. Just as your body will be offered as an incubator to nurture that God.”
At these words, Harry shook his shackles in frustration. His eyes, filled with rage, bored into Claudia.
“Why? Why me?” Heather shouted, her voice echoing with desperation.
“Because it is your destiny,” Claudia responded, her expression one of exasperation. “Years ago, you were chosen to be the vessel for God. God can only be resurrected through your body. It has to be you.” Claudia smiled coldly with her pale face. “When God is resurrected, we will leave this prison and cleanse the sins of this world. For that, your body is essential.”
Claudia placed her hand on Heather’s shoulder. Immediately, Heather’s strength drained away, and she collapsed to the ground. For some reason, her legs wouldn’t move at all.
“Stop!” Vincent shouted, but was quickly subdued by the Brethren twisting his arm. Harry also yelled, “Stay the fuck away from my daughter!” but Claudia paid no heed.
“Now, let’s begin. We will use the Seal of Metatron to bring God back. Hand it over.”
Hatred for Claudia surged within Heather, resonating with Alessa’s cries from deep inside her. She was going to reveal Claudia’s true self in front of everyone. Heather pulled the seal from her pocket and handed it to Claudia.
“Take it,” she said.
The expression on Claudia’s face darkened, and the members of the Order, lined up against the walls, began to murmur in fear, their voices trembling.
“It’s Alessa!”
“Her eyes! You can see the black flames!”
“Oh God, save us…”
"The demon has possessed her!"
Heather wasn’t shaken. She knew that Alessa was swirling inside her. Though her emotions were about to explode, Heather herself was controlling them.
"Shut up!" Claudia shouted, silencing the agitated cult members.
Heather glared at her opponent looking down at her and declared,
"It seems you don't get it and thought I defeated Alessa. But you're wrong. I didn't erase her. Yes, her body was shattered and disappeared. But we became one. Alessa is within me. What was once split in two has simply returned to its original form."
"The complete form of Alessa, with good and evil in balance," Claudia said, brushing away the silver hair from her cheek, her eyes shining. "Perfect. That's exactly what we wanted." As if on cue, the surrounding voices grew more extreme.
"Kill her!"
"Burn her while she’s still weak."
"Hurry!"
"Burn the demon at stake!"
Claudia sharply glared at the cult members and sharply commanded, "Silence! Securing the vessel comes first!"
Heather paid no attention to their exchanges. She wasn’t sure if she had managed to turn Alessa’s hatred into love, but at the very least, that hatred had been transformed into strength. Alessa’s strength felt like armor, now covering Heather’s entire body. Heather thrust the Seal of Metatron further forward.
"Take it. Show me your true nature."
Claudia reached out her arm toward the shining seal in Heather's hand with a gentle smile. The moment her fingers touched the seal, a tremendous wind began to swirl.
But we’re underground, where did this gale come from?
And then, from not far away, the roar of thunder echoed. Heather frowned, astonished by the change in Claudia before her. The wind was emanating from Claudia herself. Her skin and clothing gradually peeled off from her fingertips touching the seal, and the small fragments were swept up by the fierce updraft. Eventually, even her hair disintegrated and disappeared, revealing not red but white flesh beneath.
White flesh?
Heather’s eyes widened. Stripped of everything, Claudia’s true nature emerged: a monstrous creature with blades for arms—Missionary. In its head was a disc-shaped blade piercing through sunken eye sockets, glaring menacingly at her. The cult members around them panicked and began to flee from the sanctuary. Amid the commotion, the thunder sounded ever closer.
Heather looked up at Missionary and met its eyeless gaze. Its arms were raised high, and the sharp blade glinted ominously in the torchlight.
"I’ll take your body by force!"
Missionary roared, swinging its arm down. Unable to move, Heather could only close her eyes. In the next moment, a loud crash echoed in her ears.
Yet, she felt no pain. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes and was startled by the large cleaver in front of her. It had blocked Missionary's arm blade. Someone’s feet were visible beside her. As Heather’s gaze traveled upward, she was shocked at the sight of the person’s head.
A pyramid-shaped helmet?
It was undoubtedly the man with the triangular head. Had he walked all the way from the carousel to this place? Heather suddenly realized. The sound she thought was thunder earlier—was it the noise of dragging the great cleaver? As she blinked in disbelief, Harry’s voice called out.
Sharon— He is Alessa’s protector. Now that you have merged with her, he seeks to protect you as well!
So that’s it.
Heather directed a strong gaze toward Alessa’s servant. He must also be an executioner——
Deliver judgement to Missionary!
At Heather’s command, the man with the triangular head responded instantly. He lifted the great cleaver with his powerful arms and brought it down on Missionary with brute force. The opponent was thrown violently and slammed into the floor. At that moment, Claudia’s curse was broken, and Heather could move her legs freely. She immediately rushed toward her father.
"Dad!"
"Sharon!"
As she was undoing the leather band around his wrist, Vincent rushed over and began releasing the restraints on the other side.
"Vincent!" Heather exclaimed in surprise.
He replied with a sheepish smile, "The Brethren fled in fear of the monsters. They’re surprisingly cowardly."
Then, a loud crash resounded once again, and the three of them looked up to see the monstrous figures. Missionary had already regained its footing and was engaged in a fierce sword fight with the man with the triangular head on the circular floor. The destructive power of the great cleaver was considerable, but because of its weight, it was unwieldy. Missionary skillfully dodged the cleaver's attacks with agile movements, slashing relentlessly at the man's exposed upper body. However, if even a single touch of the cleaver was enough, Missionary would be instantly repelled.
Heather and the others kept their hands moving while being transfixed by the fierce death match between the monstrous beings. The two monsters were brutally wounding each other, covered in blood. Missionary narrowly avoided the wildly swung cleaver by ducking its upper body and then slipped into the man's blind spot, stabbing the right hand blade into his abdomen. The long sword pierced through his body, its blade tip emerging from his back. Even as the man with the triangular head writhed in pain, he gripped the cleaver's handle with both hands and swung it down toward Missionary's head.
But just before the blade could pierce the floor, Missionary quickly shifted to the side. When the man tried to lift his weapon again, something unexpected happened. The blade had sunk too deep into the floor and couldn’t be easily extracted. Seizing the opportunity, Missionary moved behind the man and stabbed its right arm into his helmet. As it began to pull with all its might, one side of the triangular head started to peel away. It seemed as though the tide of battle had clearly turned in Missionary's favor. But in the next moment, the man with the triangular head twisted his upper body, grabbed Missionary’s neck with his thick arm, and lifted the creature off the ground.
The white monster struggled desperately, flailing its legs and swinging its left arm wildly. Missionary's sword blade slashed deeply into the man's right upper arm, causing him to loosen his grip on the creature. But before Missionary could assume a fighting stance, the man's left fist was buried in her stomach. The white body was blown backward, landing unceremoniously on its rear. The outcome of the battle was completely unpredictable. The three of them watched the monsters’ movements, holding their breath.
The spring-like body of Missionary suddenly sprung from the seated position to a standing one. But before she could go on the offensive, the man with the triangular head, using all his might, wrenched the great cleaver from the floor and slashed it horizontally at Missionary's neck height. With blinding speed, Missionary’s head was severed and flew into the air. The body left behind crumpled awkwardly to the ground.
The battle was over. The man with the triangular head, his task complete, dragged the great cleaver as he left, the sound like thunder echoing in his wake. Heather quietly watched his wounded figure as he departed. Vincent stood there in silence, staring at the grotesque corpse lying on the floor. It had reverted to the form of Claudia Wolf.
"Many years ago, my mother changed completely. But now, I think she’s finally returned to her old self. She’s finally found peace..."
He dropped his gaze in sorrow, and Heather gently embraced him from the side. Finally freed, Harry wrapped his arms around their shoulders, gently encircling them from behind. The thunderous roars were gone. In the serene air of the sanctuary, the three of them stood silently for a while.
The three of them were walking down the main street of Silent Hill. The fog was still thick, but the traces of darkness had disappeared completely, giving off a sense of calmness.
“The ash has stopped,” Vincent said as he looked up at the sky. He held out his palm to make sure that nothing was falling.
“Is this your doing?”
“I didn’t do anything,” Heather replied with a smile, showing her white teeth. “But I think this town will change too. The cult has collapsed, and the nightmare is over—”
“But another one might start again,” Harry, walking beside her, interrupted. “This place gathers lost souls, after all.”
His words were not impossible. A cursed town built on the sacred land of the indigenous people. The countless abominable events that have been repeated in Silent Hill. And the words Alessa had said: “In Silent Hill, everyone is having a different nightmare.”
Even so, she was sure. Alessa's time and her own nightmare were already things of the past.
When they reached the end of the main street, Harry stopped. Heather noticed and turned around.
“Dad, what's wrong?”
“...I can’t go.”
He replied with a serious expression.
“What do you mean? Why?”
“I’m staying here.”
“Dad, we’ve finally been freed. We can live safely, without being chased by anyone. This is the first time we have freedom. You should leave with us—”
Harry interrupted his daughter’s words.
“I know. You saved me from the cult. I’m really grateful. But now that I'm free, I have to fulfill my obligation.”
Heather rushed over to her father and took his hand. She didn’t want him to leave. She had to make him reconsider.
“Dad, what you should do now is live with me, right?”
But Harry didn’t nod.
“I have to look for your mother.”
Heather gasped and stared at her father’s face. He had aged, but his eyes were still kind and strong.
“Rose is still wandering somewhere in this town. She’s still trapped in Silent Hill. I have to find her no matter what.”
“Vincent’s grandfather also said that Mom is somewhere in this town. I’ll help you.”
“No, this is something i have to do alone. I promised your mom. I promised that once I secured your safety, I would bring her back.”
“I don’t want to be separated from you, Dad.”
Heather’s eyes began to well up as her father stood firm.
“You’ve done well. I’m really proud of you. That’s why I want you to live freely from now on. You can finally walk your own path in life. Do you understand how I feel?”
Harry placed his hand on Heather’s shoulder. She looked down and said in a trembling voice.
“But I can’t just leave you here alone.”
“I’m not alone. Your mother is here. I’m going to go back to being Christopher Da Silva.”
Harry’s large hand gently stroked her hair and wiped away her tears. Heather lifted her face and met her father’s gaze. It was painful to part ways with the father she had finally reunited with, but she was no longer the person she once was. The kindness her father had given her, the courage she had learned from her mother, and the strength Alessa had bestowed upon her—
“...I get it.”
Heather nodded. It was painful, but she would grant her father’s wish, the father who had sacrificed his life for her. She threw herself into Harry’s chest with all her emotions.
“I love you, Dad.”
“I love you too, sweatheart.”
As she buried her face in his chest, Heather wanted to feel this warmth forever. But she steeled herself, pulled away, and took out the Seal of Metatron from her pocket, handing it to her father.
“This might help you find Mom.”
Harry accepted the seal and smiled warmly. It was the smile she had loved since she was a child. Holding back her tears, she quickly said “Well then,” and hurried back to Vincent. Taking his outstretched hand, the two of them walked in the opposite direction from Harry.
“Vincent—”
Harry called out, and Vincent turned around, with Heather following suit.
“Take care of my daughter, alright?”
“Understood, sir! But she might not need me.”
Harry laughed at Vincent’s words, and Heather couldn’t help but smile too. Harry waved his hand and then turned his back, walking into the foggy town. Soon, his figure was swallowed by the white air, and after a gust of wind blew through, he disappeared from view. The two of them continued walking until they reached a main road lined with trees. Heather recognized this road. It was the path she had walked alone after Vincent disappeared from the motel. She remembered her past self, feeling nostalgic. At that time, she couldn’t even imagine this day.
“Can I ask you something?”
Vincent, who was walking beside her, asked, and Heather responded with a puzzled look, “Sure”
“Why didn’t you give me the Seal of Metatron? Didn’t you want to see my true nature?”
At his sudden question, she squinted her eyes and stared at Vincent. He seemed a bit fidgety, wondering what answer he would get.
“Because—” Heather grabbed Vincent’s hand and started running. “I already see it, so there’s no need!”
“What? What do you mean?”
At that moment, they saw a large blue cargo truck approaching on the main road. Heather shouted, “We have to hitchhike. Come on!” They both raised their arms and stuck out their thumbs to make sure the driver saw them. The truck passed by them but thankfully stopped a few meters ahead.
“Alright!”
Heather and Vincent exchanged smiles and ran towards the truck. Vincent opened the door, and Heather got in first.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
The driver was a rough-looking man in his mid-forties, but he didn’t seem like a bad person.
“You’re lucky I came by. I hadn’t passed through here in a long time. Name's Travis Grady.”
Travis extended his hand, and Vincent was the first to shake it, introducing himself as “Vincent.” Heather hesitated for a moment before introducing herself as “Sharon” and shaking his hand.
“So, where you two lovebirds heading?”
She exchanged glances with Vincent before replying,
“Just take us as far away from here as you can.”
“Amen to that.”
Vincent leaned over and also made the request to Travis.
“Alright, got it.”
As the truck started moving, the cargo container in the back let out a humming sound. Heather, still holding Vincent’s hand, stared straight ahead at the road. There was nothing to obstruct her view. Under the clear blue sky, the green trees and asphalt road stretched out endlessly. Up until now, her life had been like being surrounded by fog on all sides. She had lost her past memories, feared reality, and couldn’t even imagine a bright future. The darkness of Silent Hill had made her realize the terror of not being able to see. But now, there was nothing blocking her path. She would walk her own life, just as her father, Christopher, had wished.
The truck passed by a large roadside sign that read, "You Are Now Leaving Silent Hill." Heather's gaze followed the letters through the window until they quickly disappeared from view. The car radio, which had been emitting only white noise, began to play lively country music. And just like that, the vehicle carrying them left Silent Hill behind.
A police car, which had passed by the blue cargo truck, sped down the highway. Inside were two detectives.
"Welcome to Silent Hill."
The black detective, who was holding the steering wheel, glanced at the sign on the roadside and spoke to his partner, who was dozing in the passenger seat.
"Detective Santini, we're almost there."
A groggy Santini looked out the window and grimaced.
"Hey, this fog is really something else. You can't see a damn thing."
The police car disappeared into the thick fog, swallowed by the road ahead. Awaiting them was Silent Hill, a place where lost souls gather. They had no idea what awaited them there...