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"Find him. Grab him. Kill him. Peel the flesh from his carcass." The words drifted through the trees, near and far, everywhere and no where.

Jack Stiles was trapped in a nightmare.

Except nightmare gave the impression that there was a chance of waking up.

Hell might be a more accurate word, except the continued use of 'kill' left him thinking that he might not be dead. Yet.

He didn't know how long he could keep it that way. He was outnumbered and out armed. The small backup dagger clenched in his fist felt ineffectual against the twisted creatures that were hunting him.

There was no sense of time here. The sun never rose or set, it stayed straight above, casting blood-red light across the forest. There was no sense of place. He could run for what felt like hours and end up back at the same exact tree.

Despite this, he was sure he had been in this place for weeks, if not months. He grew tired but he didn't sleep. There was a want for food and drink but he didn't feel hunger or thirst. It made things simpler but him uneasy.

He had to find a way out. He had to warn Williams. If only he had any idea on how to get out.

Last thing he'd remembered was tracking down the man rumored to have unearthed a book bound in human flesh and inked in blood. It sounded too close to what Williams had described to him to not be related. He remembered confronting the man, only, he hadn't been a man. Not anymore. Knowing about Evil hadn't prepared him to actually come face to face with it. For the first time in his life, he had backed away from a target in fear.

Something had grabbed him from behind, except he recalled his back being to the wall.

No. No. Not a wall. A mirror.

Then... he was somewhere else. Surrounded by soulless creatures. Animalistic and formless yet solid and humanoid. He couldn't make sense of them. He had dropped his sword in the struggle. He still wasn't sure if he'd fought his way free or if they'd let him go for the fun of the hunt.

There was mark on his forearm where one had dug its claws into him. It didn't hurt but it felt wrong and unnatural, the black lines slowly spreading out from it only reinforced that feeling, but he had neither the time nor supplies to even try to deal with it.

Knowing that didn't silence the little voice in the back of his mind telling him to dig the blade into it and cut it out. Cut it out before it was too late. Cut it out.

Cut it out!

Jack jerked the edge of the dagger away from his skin. "No." He didn't know if that voice was his or theirs. As much as he wanted it--whatever it was--out, he wouldn't given into anything they wanted. He wouldn't risk it.

"One, two, we're coming for you. Three, four, chew you like chaw..."

He grit his teeth. He wasn't in a position to fight, but he couldn't stay here.

There was nowhere to run.

He ran anyway.

He darted down the same path he'd taken five passes ago. It weaved enough to slow down the larger beings, it did little to stop the small ones.

And--it hadn't had a gully.

Jack yelped as his foot caught the edge, sliding in the dirt. He tumbled head over heels, landing hard in the damp mud.

"Ticked you. Ticked you." Laughter echoed from the leaves behind him.

"Bastards..." Jack swiped a hand over his face, cleaning off what he could. It wasn't the first time they'd done something like this, but he'd never had the layout change before.

The laughter cut off suddenly. He didn't think much of it. The blood curdling scream that followed, however, had him snatching up his dagger and jumping to his feet.

Oh, that was new.

He didn't like it.

A flash of light-brown through the dried brush. Hair? None of these things had hair.

Jack climbed out of the gully, keeping his eyes on the woods.

A swish and a thump before a malformed head rolled across the path.

The brush rustled, parted.

And, perhaps it wasn't the most important thing to focus on, but nonetheless, as the figure walked out onto the path, the first thought through Jack's mind was, Hey, that's my sword.

He didn't lower his dagger.

She didn't lower her stolen sword.

There was something familiar about her. Something in her sharp features that nagged at him.

He licked his lips. Nothing else he'd seen here had looked in any way, shape, or form human. He hadn't considered that there might be others trapped here with him. With the way his surroundings looped in on themselves, it seemed impossible that there could be.

She blinked. The sword wavered. A step forward. Jack held his ground, and not just because there wasn't any ground behind him to fall back to.

The sword fell completely away from his direction as recognition bloomed on her face.

Jack let his fighting stance ease and hoped he wasn't allowing himself to be lulled into a false sense of security by another new demon trick.

But he didn't think he was.

Then she spoke, "...Ashley?"