They didn't use the path. They crashed through the underbrush, through brambles that tore at their clothes, their lungs burning, their feet slipping in the damp, rotting leaves.
They burst through the tree line and into the small, clear, overgrown backyard of Anah's house.
Bruce fell through the back door, collapsing onto the worn linoleum of the mudroom. Ruth stumbled in after him, slamming the door shut and fumbling with the deadbolt, her hands shaking so badly it took her three tries to lock it.
They stood there, in the dim, quiet hall, panting, muddy, streaked with dirt, their breath pluming in the cold air of the house.
The house was silent.
"Anah...?" Ruth called out, her voice a thin, reedy thing. "Anah! We need..."
"I'm here."
Anah's voice came from the kitchen. It was not the voice of a surprised grandmother. It was low, calm, and full of a terrible, final gravity.
Bruce pushed himself up, his legs feeling like water. He stumbled into the kitchen. Ruth was right behind him, her hand gripping the back of his jacket.
Anah was not at the stove. She was not chopping herbs.
She was sitting at the small, scarred, wooden kitchen table. In the center of the table was a single, flickering candle. Her hands were folded on the tabletop.
She was just... waiting.
Her eyes, in the dim, flickering light, were dark pools. And she was not looking at Bruce.
She was staring at the amulet that was still, ridiculously, hanging around his neck.
"You... you knew," Bruce whispered, his voice catching. "You knew we were coming."
"I knew," Anah said. Her voice was flat, devoid of all emotion. "The moment you used it. I felt it."
"What... what is this?" Bruce demanded, his voice finally rising, the terror giving way to a hot, desperate rage. "What did you do to me?!"
He clawed at the amulet, ripping the leather cord from his neck. He didn't throw it. He slammed it down on the table in front of her.
The amulet was smoking.
A faint, pale, grey wisp rose from the gnarled wood, just as it had from his hand. It smelled of ozone and... burning.
Anah looked at the smoking piece of wood. She did not look at him.
"No, child," she said, her voice a low, heavy, grieving whisper. "The question is not what I did. The question is... what did you?"
"You... you told me!" Bruce yelled, his voice cracking. "You said... you said it would 'quiet my mind'! You said it was a shield! I... I... he... he pushed Ruth! And I... I... I pushed him! And... and... it... it burned me! And they... they flew!"
"He blasted them!" Ruth burst out, her voice a high-pitched, hysterical sob. She was still by the doorway, as if she couldn't bring herself to enter the circle of candlelight. "Anah, what is he? What did you do to him?"
Anah finally, slowly, lifted her head. Her eyes met Bruce's. And in their depths, he didn't see anger. He saw a sorrow so profound it terrified him. And underneath that... he saw fear. The same fear he'd seen on her face the day she'd given him the amulet.
"I didn't do anything, child," she said. "I... I've just... I've spent your entire life trying to stop this."
"Stop what?" Bruce demanded. "Stop me?"
"Stop the power," she said, her voice sharp. "The... the thing inside you. The hum, as you call it."
Bruce froze. "You... you knew about that?"
"Of course I knew," Anah said, her voice softening. "I've always known. Your mother... Elara... she was in labor for three years. Do you think that was normal? That storm, the day you were born... the lights... the... the stillness... that wasn't a storm, Bruce. That was you. That was you arriving."
She pointed a long, wrinkled finger at his left shoulder, hidden beneath his jacket.
"That mark... that is not a blemish. It is a sign. A brand. It is the sign of the Immortal. A line of power so old its name has been forgotten. It... it's a power, Bruce. A well of it. And it's in you. And it has been leaking out your entire life... that's the hum. That's the hunger. That's the nightmares."
Bruce and Ruth were frozen, listening, the sirens in the distance forgotten.
"I... I'm... an Immortal?" Bruce whispered.
"It's just a word," Anah said, dismissively. "It means... more. It means other. And it means... hunted."
She looked at Ruth, her gaze hard. "The bodies in the woods. The... the heartless men. What do you think those are? Those... those are them. The other side. The... the Heralds. The shadows. They are... predators. And you..." she said, her gaze snapping back to Bruce, "...are what they hunt."
"They... they eat hearts...?" Ruth whispered, her hand at her mouth.
"No," Anah said, and her voice was full of a terrible, cold knowledge. "They eat power. They eat the Immortal. The hearts... the hearts are just... fuel. They're appetizers. They sustain them... while they hunt for the meal."
Bruce felt the blood drain from his face. "Me."
"You," Anah confirmed. "And for seventeen years, I have... I have hidden you. My rituals... the herbs... the house... it's all been a shield. A mask. To... to dampen your signal. To make you just... 'weird Bruce the ghost'... and not... a bonfire."
She pointed at the smoking amulet on the table.
"And this... this was the final piece. This was the lock. This was the dampener. It didn't 'quiet your mind,' you foolish, foolish boy... it gagged your soul. It... it... it was a shield."
"But... I... I used it," Bruce stammered. "It worked."
"No," Anah said, and her voice was a low, terrible keen. "You didn't use it. You... you overloaded it. You... you... you pushed all... all of that... seventeen years... of pent-up, locked-away... power... through it... in one, single, second."
She stood up, her chair scraping against the floor.
"It wasn't a shield tonight, child. You used it as a battering ram. You used it as a focusing lens. You didn't just open the door, Bruce..."
She looked at him, her eyes wide with a terror that dwarfed his own.
"...you blew the door off its hinges."
"What... what does that mean?" Bruce whispered, though he already knew.
"It means," Anah said, her voice shaking, "that for seventeen years, you've been a... a... a candle... in a hurricane. And you just... you just... you just set off a solar flare. A beacon. They didn't know where you were. They just knew you were out there. But now..."
She walked to the window, pulling back the curtain, and stared out into the dark, cold, empty woods.
"Now... every single hungry, dark, shadowed thing in this world... and in others... knows exactly where you are."