Kyle had a rude awakening when his right shoulder slammed into a cobblestone pathway, followed by his ribs, hip, knee, and other vulnerable bones brutally abused by their intimate mating with unyielding brick. Kyle screamed in hot agony, certain he'd smashed at least two ribs, broken his collarbone, and dislocated his right hip. He turned and spat a mouthfull of blood, painfully aware of the new rattle in his lungs, like a ball in a whistle.
Oh God... not here. The sewers. Now fully enveloped in the magic, he knew Jason had been here with him, searching presumably, mysterious pathways beneath the schoolhouse. He knew what was chasing him, then—had in fact chased him since he and Jason inadvertently activated the pentagram, and that Rue wanted him here.
As if on cue, the sewer ceased mimicking an innocuous tunnel, and began to bake itself. The bricks were not bricks; the mortar was not a crude cement. Everything gained a sheen of crackling skin, and a waft of enticing roast swine assaulted Kyle's senses, filling him with hunger and nausea. After his fall, his face rest upon the warm, enticing meat, and some infernal insanity tempted him to eat heartily.
To do so, would be damnation. His throbbing injuries made it easy to ignore food, and eventually the flesh blackened and wicked into increasingly sooty air. Or maybe fog, for Kyle didn't cough when he breathed the clammy mist. Soon, his cheek rested uneasily on a thick web of cast-iron, staring at walls of chicken-wire supporting patches of crooked tiles splashed with gore.
When arcane symbols swirled into view on those tiles, glowing blue and etching deep lines into ancient porcelain, Kyle knew it was time to leave.
It was a monumental effort: hauling his abused body upright, but necessary. He chanced a glance behind, but whatever creatures chased him, they had not yet discovered his impromptu shortcut. There was still a chance to hide.
He limped, cradling his right side and fighting to stay awake. Organs pulsated around him as if fed by some distant, thundering heart. Thump, it said. Thump! It was droning and hypnotic. The unnerving screeches of metal—always a garnish in this terrible place—might yet be his salvation.
But twilight stole all illumination, save the eerily neon symbols following him as he hobbled from one clanking grate to the next. Why not just finish me!? A muted titter in the pea-soup he'd left behind was his first warning.
"God damn it! Just kill me already! What the hell do you want from me!?" he snarled at the creatures, visible now and steadily closing the distance.
A cold panic flushed through him. Oblivious or not, he wasn't an idiot. Rue could have killed him any time, and had already corralled him here once before. No, Rue didn't want him dead; the hateful thing was trying to destroy his soul. Why else would a creature like him rely on dreams and rituals to snuff Kyle's eternal flame? Bastard! Few things frightened a living thing more than death. For sentient beings, there was still one worse fate, and Kyle realized then, that being caught by those encroaching horrors meant oblivion.
"You can't do this!" he cried, still dragging his unresponsive foot in the opposite direction from the approaching throng. "You can't just erase me!" Tears ran down his bruised cheeks, cutting lines through dried blood and grit. I have to wake up!
He closed his eyes and frantically replayed the lessons Sal so forcefully taught, knowing they'd be all but useless in a place his physical body didn't occupy. But there was a chance, if however slight, he could somehow clear the poison from his body and awaken.
He sank to his knees and leaned against a wall that licked and caressed him, tasting his anguish. Kyle felt nothing, diving deep into his mind to concentrate. He had no idea what to target, only that something foreign coursed through his blood, and it must be unceremoniously purged. According to Sal, his body was probably already doing its part, but too slowly for Kyle's liking. The monsters were closer now; he could hear them chew the air in anticipation; smell them.
He imagined his blood clean: filled only with platelets, red and white blood cells, a few stray nutrients... everything he remembered from Biology. He seized this image and imposed it, willing to accidentally kill himself rather than face the alternative bearing down upon him.
Kyle knew it was too late as the razor-sharp teeth pierced his skin, grinding into his bones, tearing away meaty chunks. Unable to concentrate while being eaten alive, afraid in a way the fall from that nightmarish scaffolding could never impart, Kyle screamed.