Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It had not always lived in this house.

It recalled, not for the first time, that It had been free once. Floating through the cosmos, wild and free like a burning meteor. Then, It had heard a call, sweet and tantalizing and promising to let It sing, let It stretch and spread and devastate. It had sent a small fragment of Itself to investigate, and before It could even realize what was happening, the binding ritual was complete, and It had found Itself small, compact, cramped, too tight can’t breathe release me.

Whoever had captured It used It sparingly, allowing It to flow and devour things and people in Its flames, but never for long enough. Just enough to take a gasping, shuddering breath before It would be shoved back into that infernal space. One day, the voice changed, and the second voice let It breathe more often than the first, but even then, It would always return to Its prison.

The voice changed twice more by Its count but It never bothered to learn about any of them. They were all Its captors, no matter whose hands held Its prison. In fact, it took quite some time for It to realize that the voices had vanished. Too tight, can’t breathe, release me, but the release didn’t come. As time passed and It adjusted, becoming smaller, It began to tune into the world around It. And It sensed… wood, deliciously flammable but just out of reach. The wood stretched around It into walls, and then a floor, and then a door. Beyond the door, things stretched endlessly, and there was no sign of life whatsoever. It had been abandoned.

It was confused at first. Confusion gave way to anger, and It wished for nothing more than to be free of Its prison to burn down the walls, floors, doors—the world around it. It had been brought here, caged here, for a purpose, It had fulfilled that purpose, and then, Its captors had abandoned It. It wanted them to burn, to choke, to suffocate. But the anger did nothing to sustain It.

Eventually, Its thoughts also abandoned It, and It slept weeks, months, years, decades. Occasionally, It stirred at the sound of voices echoing up the stairs, when life drifted through the halls again, but the voices never stayed long. And they never spoke to It, not in the way that Its first users had. Those had been whispers of reverence and praise that grew self-centered and prideful. The new voices were questioning, with the most common question being “Who’s there?” It felt a stirring of hope; perhaps It could make itself known. It reached out, demanding to be heard, and felt a flicker from somewhere underneath. The questions became panicked yelling and screaming, the signs of life lost under smoke. The voices left after that, and It was alone again.

So, yet again, It slept.

&&&

“Shadow, are you sure about this?”

Shadow really hated when people asked him questions while he was doing something. For instance, right now, he was trying to juggle a box that threatened to give way under his hands at any moment, which of course was when Amy decided to question him. “It’s a bit late for the concern, Amy. I’ve already bought the house.”

Amy frowned at him, carrying the tote with his blankets and pillow coverings. “I know that, it’s just…” She turned towards the house, a two-story bungalow with freshly laid siding and dark windows. The porch creaked under her feet as she followed Shadow to the front door, and she swore that she could smell smoke. “How long was this place on the market?”

“Two years,” Shadow answered, nudging the front door open and stepping inside.

“Right. It’s just… I did a bit of research and the last few families who owned this place swore it was haunted,” Amy whispered the last word conspiratorially as she followed.

Shadow sighed, setting the box down beside the front door. Just in time, it seemed, as he could see some of the tape peeling away. “It was just a fire. Shoddy electrical wiring, nothing more.”

“One of the news articles said they heard weird noises!”

“It’s an old house.”

Amy pouted, adjusting the tote in her hands. “Where’s the bedroom?” Shadow motioned for Amy to follow him up a wooden stairway, leading her to the last door on the right. She set the tote on the bare, full-sized mattress with a huff. “This place doesn’t give you the heebie-jeebies? I feel like something’s watching me.”

“You’re too superstitious for your own good, Rose.”

He eventually got her to leave, promising to see her again to help decorate the house once he was unpacked, and closed the door behind her, resting his head on the wood. The ambient sounds of the heaters and electrical currents filled the air, and he soaked it in. He had a house in a city. Well, a suburb, really, but the point was that he had a place tied to him now.

Amy wasn’t completely wrong. Three years ago, a terrible electrical fire had engulfed this house, nearly melting down the frames and foundation. It had taken nearly half a year to rebuild, and another half to restore to the point of being inhabitable. The “house flippers” had probably taken a loss when it finally did hit the market, because so many of the previous inhabitants swore that it was haunted that no one wanted it. They reported unbearably hot temperatures, strange sounds, and the feeling of being watched. But it was no matter to him. There was only one ghost he could stand to haunt him; anything else would have to get in line.

Shadow sighed and got to work unpacking. Once he had the essentials out, he dug out a candle and set it on the kitchen counter to burn while he made dinner. The scent of lavender filled the kitchen as he chopped up vegetables, unaware that the wick’s flame stretched up a full inch.

&&&

This voice was different in that it was silent.

It woke to the feeling of someone, a quiet but impactful presence that shook It gently in Its prison. It stretched, surprised to find that It could move now; the seal of Its prison had weakened, it seemed, allowing It to stretch beyond its confines. As It crept along the floor, tracking the sensation of life, It felt sorrow. Sorrow oozed off the newcomer, leaking into the wood with each barefooted step through the halls. It chased the taste of sorrow, using it to build the shape of Its new housemate. Only one of him, barely big enough to live in this house on his own, the smell of coffee and lavender following his presence in each room.

One morning, It followed him into the bathroom, blinded by light as Its eyes opened for the first time. A black and red hedgehog stood at the bathroom sink, staring blankly into the mirror—blankly as in no life in his crimson eyes, autopilot, going through the motions—as he brushed his teeth. His quills were damp with water.

It didn’t know how long It spent just staring at him, taking in his face, which carried the look of someone who had seen and suffered, wise beyond his years. It felt something lurch deep inside of It as he lowered his toothbrush, eyes snapping back into focus as he looked at the upper-right corner of the mirror. His eyes searched the glass, looking for something… looking for It. “Can you feel me?” It desperately wanted to ask, but the words would not come.

Just as quickly as the moment arrived, it was gone, and the hedgehog spat toothpaste into the sink, moving on to washing his face. Oh, It could feel the power thrumming underneath his skin. This was a strong one. Maybe if he tried to use It, It might not mind so much. It burned those red eyes into Its memory, retracting from the mirror as Its new housemate turned off the light and disappeared down the hallway.

&&&

The first month was very productive, all things considered. G.U.N. was content to keep him on desk duty while he settled into his new home. He painted the walls, sticking to greyscale, and filled the house with mostly fake plants—when he could be gone for weeks at a time, he didn’t want to risk killing live ones. Amy and Rouge arrived one Saturday to give their opinions on what color throw pillows he should have or how many blankets he needed. “I have to say, hun, this place is looking downright cozy,” Rouge commented as she poured them all some wine. “How are you settling in?”

“Yeah,” Amy chimed in with a cheeky smile. “Any poltergeist activity yet?”

Shadow grumbled quietly, taking a sip of his wine. “No, Amy.”

“Poltergeists? What?” Rouge peered at Shadow.

Amy rolled her eyes, draping an arm over the back of the couch. “Every other person who bought this house before the fire left because they swore it was haunted.”

“You would buy a haunted house, Shadow,” Rouge said, taking another, analyzing look around.

“It’s not haunted,” Shadow said, although his mouth grew dry at the words. “Amy, do not rope the others into your conspiracy theories.”

“It’s not a conspiracy!” Amy protested, pouting at him. “You really don’t feel anything weird with this house?”

Shadow refrained from answering, opting to drink his wine instead. “It’s probably just old, Amy,” Rouge said, waving her hand dismissively. “Old houses always have a funky vibe to them. I think it’s perfect for you, Shadow. But you know Blue’s gonna insist on a housewarming party?”

Amy set her wine glass down, frowning as she shed her jacket. Now that Shadow thought about it, it was unseasonably warm in his living room. “That’s dependent on him finding out I have a house. Which he won’t,” he said with a stern look.

Rouge raised her hand as if swearing a solemn vow. “If he finds out, it’s not through me. Or you, Amy, right?”

“I’m not worried about Amy.”

Amy giggled, settling back in. “Aw. Thanks, Shadow.”

When they left, Shadow locked the front door, running a hand over his face. Now that he wasn’t focusing on maintaining some semblance of composure, the pervasive feeling of being watched washed over him like a tidal wave. He first noticed it about a week into living in this house when he had been getting ready in the bathroom. Something had… well, the best word to use was flickered in the upper corner of the mirror. It had been brief, just enough to snap him out of his morning dissociation ritual—every single morning, in the first half-hour after he woke up, he would stumble about in a daze, unsure if he was really Shadow or an android that had seriously deluded itself. Regardless, it had caught his attention, and now, he noticed it every single morning. Like a black fog trying to creep into frame but bowing out at the last second.

He briefly thought to say something. Maybe the thing watching him had ears as well. If so, Shadow would prefer It knew that he would not tolerate the weight of anyone else’s presence. Maria was the only exception. But if he spoke, that may embolden It. So he said nothing, settling back down on the sofa for some TV, trying to ignore the strange shape in the screen before it clicked on.

&&&

It learned much over the first two months. It had always been able to hear, but now It knew that It could use mirrors or reflective surfaces as a peephole into the world and properly see things. It learned that Its housemate’s name was Shadow—It couldn’t help but find some irony in that. A shadow left behind in the light of flames. It would have been a fitting name for Itself. Shadow lived alone, but he would frequently have company in the form of either a bat, some metal colossus, or a pink hedgehog. It quickly realized that Shadow had a lot of candles, and whenever he lit one, It could feel some part of It stirring, yearning to stoke the flames.

However, he would often leave, sometimes for days at a time, and when he did, the house became unbearably lonely. So, in his absence, It took the opportunity to explore and distract itself. Its prison had weakened quite a bit while It had slept, to the point it was barely worthy of the title of ‘prison’ anymore. In the darkness, It could creep along the floor trimming, feeling out the hallways, stairways, and dimensions of the rooms. It would sneak into the covers of the oven and the microwave to view the kitchen.

It quickly grew comfortable with Shadow’s presence. Occasionally, he would glance at It in the mirrors for just a moment, just long enough that It knew he could sense Its presence. But he would never speak to It. The only sound to come from the house when Shadow was alone was the gentle sound of vinyl records or computer speakers… except for one night when a stifled yell roused It from slumber. It seeped into Shadow’s bedroom, watching him sit upright with his head in his hands. Sorrow, fear, and anger dripped from him as he tried to stifle his rapid breaths. A nightmare? It coalesced, twisting in on Itself as It watched him throw off his covers and sink to the floor, head resting against the mattress. It was dark enough in here, and he was close. Maybe It could…

It stretched out, curious, sliding along the floor until It reached the inky black fur of his hand—and Shadow jolted, staring down at It with wide eyes. It imagined doing the same thing, some kind of power stirring inside of It but not quite coming to fruition. He looked… shocked, perhaps irritated. Maybe It had pushed too far. “I have enough ghosts haunting me,” Shadow finally spoke, drawing his knees up to his chest. “You were here first, so I won’t ask you to leave. Just leave me in peace.” It absorbed Shadow’s words, mulling them over. He was giving It agency. That was more than It could say for any of the others that had tried to tame It. It stretched out again, touching his hand once more, and this time, he didn’t flinch away. “You’re warm,” he muttered. “Like ashes. What… are you?” It wished It could answer.

As Shadow drifted back off to sleep on the floor, a thin layer of pitch settled on the floorboards, staining the wood in the vague shape of a clawed hand reaching toward him.

&&&

When a candle’s flame stretched so high that it nearly caught Amy’s scarf on fire, he knew he couldn’t lie anymore. The candle had been on a knee-high coffee table, and Amy had not been standing close enough to warrant the sudden smell of burning cotton if it had been a normal candle. He’d learned by now that the spirit haunting this house was attracted to fire, but as long as he kept his candles away from anything flammable, he was content to let It be. Practically, It was probably saving him a fortune in heating bills, because the house was always warm.

“What the heck,” Amy said, rattled as she looked at the scorched pink fabric. She froze solid when she looked down at the candle and saw the flame was two inches tall, reaching up almost like it was seeking her out. “What the heck—Shadow?!”

“It’s alright,” Shadow assured, pushing the candle back and leaning down to tell it, “I would appreciate if you did not set my friends on fire.” The flame flickered, then shrunk back down to normal.

“Shadow?” Amy asked again, fearfully this time. “What’s going on?”

“You were right.” It physically pained him to say the words as he stood back up with a sigh. “This house is… occupied.”

“I knew it!” Amy threw her hands in the air. “I knew this place was haunted, Shadow! And your ghost just tried to set me on fire!”

“It didn’t try to set you on fire. It just likes candles. I don’t think It knows how flammable we are.” The candle flickered again, but Shadow ignored it, settling on the couch. “And I don’t think It’s a ghost.”

“What else would it be?” Amy sat down next to him, eyes wide. “Chaos, Shadow, do you think it’s a demon? Do we need an exorcist?”

“No, nothing like that.” Shadow paused. “…It seems more tangible than a ghost. Aware. I don’t think it means any harm.”

Amy chewed her cheek for a second before whipping out her phone, furiously typing something. “Well, I'm not just gonna let you sit here being haunted. Look, there’s a medium in the city we could get out here! That could narrow down your ghost problem pretty quickly!”

“Mediums and psychics are scam artists, Rose,” Shadow shot back, although he didn’t entirely believe that. He’d definitely seen people who had an innate sense of things that would happen—case in point, Amy Rose herself had great intuition. “I will not let you waste money on someone who will try to convince me that It’s Maria.”

Amy paused and asked gently, “You don’t think It is?”

Shadow just shook his head. No, he knew It wasn’t Maria. Maria had grown up on oxygen tanks and breathing tubes, she would have never had anything to do with fire or flames. “It’s something else.”

Amy looked back at her phone with a frown. “Look, Shadow, this one says she won’t charge until a spirit is explicitly identified. Can we at least try? I just want to make sure you’re not going to be dealing with a house fire in your future.” Shadow's gaze returned to the candle and its flickering flame.

Two days later, a human girl arrived at the house. Her bright red hair was cut in a short bob, blue eyes soft and soulful. “My name is Elise Fogu,” she greeted with a bow of her head. “Miss Rose said you have a presence in your home.”

Shadow, under Amy’s persistent glare, stepped aside to let Elise inside. “I won’t tolerate you trying to con us out of our money,” he warned bluntly as he closed the door behind them.

Amy made a sound like she was about to lecture him, but Elise interrupted, saying, “I understand. Where did you first notice the presence?”

Shadow led Elise and Amy to the upstairs bathroom, holding out an arm to protect the light switch. Elise's gaze drifted down the hallway towards the attic hatch, the pull cord dangling idly in the air. “It might show Itself in here. But It doesn’t seem to like light," Shadow explained.

“That’s a great sign—” Amy started to grumble, but when Shadow flicked on the lights, they all saw It: a black smog that had overtaken a diagonal quarter of the mirror that abruptly retracted in the light. “Ohhhh Chaos, Shadow! I saw that!”

“So did I,” Elise said, pulling off one of her gloves. She approached the mirror, swallowing hard and hesitating for only a moment before pressing her bare fingers to the glass. After a second, she shook her head. “If It’s attracted to darkness, that usually indicates ill intent. Although dark does not always mean evil. Miss Rose mentioned It’s attracted to candles?”

“Flames in general.” Shadow paused, then headed out of the bathroom. “But if you’re as powerful as you claim, I have something else you might find interesting.”

When they reached the doorway to Shadow’s bedroom, the sight of the stain on the floor gave Elise pause. “Whoa!” Amy cried, lingering behind Elise. “What is that?”

Elise stepped inside cautiously and knelt before the stain, drawing her bare fingers over it. She rolled the texture against her thumb, then brought her fingers to her face to smell them. “…Pitch,” she said. “This house suffered a fire, correct?”

“Three years ago," Shadow confirmed.

“And the residents during that time reported hauntings?”

“Yeah,” Amy chimed in. “I know I told you over the phone, but they’d see things moving and hear whispers. And I smelled smoke when I visited the first time.”

Elise fell quiet, her eyes fluttering closed as she pressed her palm into the stain, drifting up to trace the outline of the claws. Then she gasped, pulling back like she’d been shocked. “Oh… this is… this entity…” Elise stood with a start, grabbing a handkerchief from her pocket to wipe the stain from her hands. “I don’t know what this is, but I can say with confidence that it is not a ghost.”

“Oh. Is that… good or bad?” Amy asked.

“I don’t know.” Elise paused, her expression becoming focused before she turned and headed out of the bedroom and down the hall, moving with purpose. Shadow followed her to find her staring up at the attic hatch. “Have you been up there, sir?”

“No. Haven’t needed to.”

Elise nodded and reached up to pull the cord, although it took a few tries; the hatch was stuck from years of disuse, eventually coming free with a rather hard tug. The smell of soot and smoke wafted down on them, and Amy coughed, covering her mouth with her sleeve. “Ugh!” But her complaints didn’t stop Elise from climbing into the attic, Shadow following closely behind. Once the air cleared, Amy stared up after them. If she knew anything about haunted houses, it was that a dusty, abandoned attic was never good news. But the longer she stood there, the more she could swear that someone was watching her, eyes burning into the back of her neck. Fidgeting, she quickly decided that being in a creepy attic with her friends was much more appealing than being alone for even another second.

She climbed the ladder to find Elise crouched in a dark corner, something cradled in her hands. “Shadow…” she said quietly, her voice shaky with nerves. “This is…”

“A seal of some sort,” Shadow finished her sentence as Amy approached. The attic was utterly abandoned, its only contents being a few empty, moldy cardboard boxes… and the strange scepter Elise held. It looked to be hundreds of years old, especially with the thick layer of dust caking it. A beautiful purple gemstone sat inlaid in the cap, but it had cracked with time; likewise, the staff part of the scepter had cracked as well, the body spotted with streams of pitch, stretching like veins over the polished metal frame.

“Um… how bad is that?” Amy asked, hugging herself tightly. Shadow’s house had always been just a little too warm, but the heat was stifling up here.

“It’s very bad,” Elise said quietly, standing up. “This is the sort of item used to seal incredibly powerful entities. You are not being haunted by a ghost, Shadow.” She looked up, eyes widened in realization and a barely stifled level of fear. “You are being haunted by a god.”