The Warren house was small.
That was the first thing Kyle noticed—not the crosses on the walls, not the locked cabinets, not the silence that pressed against his ears like falling snow. Small houses did not usually survive him. They cracked. They whispered. They shifted.
This one did not.
Lorraine Warren folded a blanket and placed it neatly at the foot of the narrow bed. She did not ask him to sleep. She never asked questions that mattered out loud.
"You can leave the door open," she said gently. "Or closed. Whichever feels less loud."
Kyle chose open.
Ed Warren stood in the doorway for a moment, hands in his pockets, not looking at the boy directly. His eyes traced the corners of the room—where magic usually pooled, where things waited.
Nothing waited. That unsettled him more than noise would have.
Kyle sat on the bed, boots still on. He had learned that taking them off meant staying. Staying meant being found.
The house did not push back.
There were no wards—not really. No spells etched into wood or iron. What protected this place were habits: salt replaced weekly, prayers spoken the same way every night, objects positioned not for power, but for memory.
For the first time since the trials began, the Drum was silent.
But the Codex was not.
It shifted against his ribs, pages unseen, and a new entry surfaced—not forced, not demanded.
LIBERATION CHAIN
Note: The legendary Michelangelo's weapon, forged for fighting beside brothers.
Incantation (spoken or internal):By breath made steady,By will made light,Bind what hunts,Not to destroy—But to deny its right.
The incantation does not activate the spell.It aligns the caster.
Requirement for Manifestation:A luminous chain forms from condensed intent.
Pale silver — control• Warm white — protection• Soft grey — containment
Each link is incomplete until it moves.The chain exists only in motion.
If you freeze, it dissolves. Keep breathing.(Motion not specified.)
Kyle exhaled slowly. For the first time since the trials began, no unseen hand measured his breath.
Halfway down the stairs, Lorraine paused. She pressed two fingers lightly to her throat.
Ed turned. "You feel it too." She nodded. "There's something here."
Ed's spine stiffened. "It's not… outside him," Lorraine said slowly. "It's with him. Like a shadow that learned manners."
The Drum shifted.
Not warning.Not approval.
Recognition.
That night, Kyle slept.
Long, uninterrupted hours. No dreams. No hunts. No voices.
The house held.
Morning light revealed what night had hidden—shelves of objects wrapped in cloth, locked drawers, a cabinet that hummed faintly like a held breath.
Lorraine did not open it. She poured tea instead.
Kyle sat at the table, hands folded, watching steam rise. He waited for the pull behind the eyes, the itch of being evaluated.
It didn't come.
"You've been judged already," Lorraine said quietly.
Kyle looked up.
"Not by us," she added. "By something old."
The Drum stirred.Thadum. Thadum.
Lorraine inhaled sharply. "There. That."
Ed frowned. "What do you see?"
"I don't," she replied. "I feel the absence of a shape. Like a drum someone keeps beating without touching."
Kyle flinched.
Lorraine smiled faintly, apologetic. "I won't pry. I just need to know—does it hurt you?"
Kyle shook his head. "It keeps me safe," he said. "It's attached to me. If I die, it dies. And vice versa."
Ed's hand tightened around his mug.
Lorraine nodded once, decision made. "Then you should be well prepared," she said. "It will try very hard to keep you alive."
The Drum did not object.
Ed cleared his throat. "We should say this properly."
Lorraine's eyes stayed on the table. When she looked up, they were wet—but steady.
"You saved our daughter," she said simply.
Kyle blinked.
He had saved children before. They never stayed. They were taken by officials, mediwizards, systems that filed him under incident.
This felt heavier.
"You didn't just stop it," Lorraine continued. "You stayed when it was over. You held her hand until she slept."
Kyle swallowed. "She was shaking."
"She stopped," Ed said quietly. "When you were there."
Silence stretched.
Then Lorraine spoke again, softer. "You deserve to know who we are."
Kyle's shoulders tightened.
"We're Squibs," Ed said. No bitterness. No shame. Just fact. "Born magical. Couldn't touch it. Couldn't shape it."
Kyle nodded. He knew the word. He had seen what it did to people.
"The Church gave us language," Lorraine said. "Not power. Language. Ways to listen without forcing answers."
Ed tapped the table lightly. "And the Ministry—very quietly—learned that people like us notice what wandwork ignores."
"You work for both," Kyle said.
"We work for neither," Lorraine corrected gently. "We cooperate. When it keeps people safe."
Kyle considered that.
Then he laughed—quiet, brief.
"That sounds… nice."
Lorraine tilted her head. "Does it?"
Kyle's fingers curled into the fabric of his trousers.
"I've lived on streets where magic leaked from cracks in the air," he said. "Places where spells rot and creatures follow because no one's watching."
They did not interrupt.
"Magic doesn't care about peace," Kyle continued. "It cares about function."
A pause. A breath.
"And the supernatural…" He glanced at the cabinet. "It doesn't care about people at all."
The Drum stayed silent.
"I tried hiding in the magical world," Kyle said. "They measure you. Test you. Decide what box you fit in."
His voice dropped. "I tried hiding from it. That's worse."
Lorraine felt it then—not magic, not the Drum.
Exhaustion far older than his body.
"This world," Kyle said quietly, "can't give me peace. Not magic. Not monsters. Not rules."
Lorraine's grip tightened on her mug. "Then why are you still here?"
Kyle hesitated.
"…Because I have nowhere else to go," he said. "And somewhere in me… I wanted this."
Ed stood, walked to the cupboard, and placed an extra plate on the table.
"You can stay," he said. "As long as you want. No conditions."
"No trials," Lorraine added.
The Drum stirred.Thadum.
A seal setting.
Kyle exhaled—a long, shaking breath that loosened something locked tight in his chest.
"Okay," he said.
And for the first time in this world, the word meant rest.
The call came three nights later.
A boy. Eleven. Voices. Scratches appearing under skin without blood.
Wand magic had failed—twice.
[TRIAL THREE INITIATED]
Save the Warrens.Save the child.
Failure: Death.
Kyle groaned softly. "No. Not again."
Ed barely finished his sentence before Kyle moved.
"You may need me," Kyle said quietly. "I'm coming with you."
Before either Warren could respond, he was already at the gate, pushing it open. "Are you both coming or not?" Lorraine paused, eyebrow lifting as she looked at Ed.
Ed gestured with mock courtesy. "After you, my lady."
Lorraine grunted and walked past him. The car ride was quiet at first. Ed kept both hands on the steering wheel, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror where Kyle sat far too still for a child.
"Listen," Ed said finally, serious now. "Our work can be dangerous. You follow our lead. Don't jump in if you don't understand something. If we tell you to stay back, you stay back. Agreed?"
Kyle nodded. "Agreed."
They pulled off the main road and onto a dirt path. Kyle leaned forward slightly. "Man… why are all haunted places always in abandoned fields?"
Ed huffed. "Because no one complains." Lorraine didn't smile.
The house sat alone, sagging at the edges, grass choked down to mud. The air around it felt wrong—not loud, not violent, just bent. They stepped out of the car. "Stay close," Ed said.
Kyle followed, and immediately the Drum stirred. Thadum.
His magical sense flared, skin prickling. The closer they got, the louder it became. Thadum. Thadum.
Lorraine slowed. "Kyle," she said, glancing back.
"Why is the drum acting up?" "It senses danger," Kyle replied. "If you're worried… that's good. Always be vigilant."
Lorraine paused. "…Did you just call me aunty?" Ed snorted.
Lorraine shot him a look. "Don't encourage him."
Ed laughed. "I think aunty suits you." Lorraine huffed, but the tension cracked—just a little.
Then the front door flew open. A woman stood there, exhausted beyond fear, like life had already taken everything it could. Her eyes snapped to the Warrens. "You're here," she said desperately. "The priest is waiting."
The mood hardened instantly.
Inside, the priest shouted from the stairs. "Up here!"
They climbed quickly. "What's the status?"
Ed asked. The priest wiped sweat from his brow. "Same as before. Without proof, I can't perform a full exorcism." Ed glanced toward the Ministry representatives standing near the wall.
They murmured among themselves, then one shook his head. "Not magical in nature. Outside our jurisdiction." And just like that, they left. The priest stared after them. "…So they just abandoned us?"
"Yes," Ed said quietly. The priest swallowed. His eyes flicked to Kyle. "Why did you bring a child? Do you know the danger?" Ed didn't hesitate. "Don't worry. He's a fighter."
The priest stared, unconvinced.
"So… what are we dealing with?" While Ed spoke with the priest, Kyle stood beside Lorraine, staring at the boy tied loosely to the bed. Rock salt formed a careful circle around the mattress.
The boy's eyes were open—but not seeing. "This isn't normal,"
Kyle said softly. "Is it?"
Lorraine shook her head. "No. It feels… wrong. Worse than anything we've faced. I don't know what it is." Kyle inhaled.
He couldn't keep it to himself. "You may find this weird," he said quietly, "but I think you're all going to die." The room froze.
Ed turned sharply. "What did you say?"
Kyle met his eyes. "This thing isn't just trying to scare you. It's going to kill you."
The boy's mother collapsed to her knees, sobbing. Her husband caught her, fury flashing through his fear. "What is wrong with this kid?" the man shouted. "Are you trying to scam us by terrifying us?" Ed ignored him, eyes locked on Kyle. "Are you sure?" Kyle nodded.
The Drum answered for him. Thadum.
Ed looked to the priest. "We should listen to him. Call the Church. Get authorization. A real exorcist."
The mother lunged toward Lorraine, clutching her arm. "Please don't abandon my child. Please. What if it was your daughter?" Lorraine froze. She remembered.
Ed saw it in her eyes—and nodded. "We stay," he said. Kyle sighed. "That's what you get for being good people." The room filled with motion. Ed's helpers set up equipment.
The priest donned his embroidered vestments. "I'm ready," the priest said. Lorraine placed her hand gently on the boy's head.
Ed leaned close, voice calm. "Listen to me," Ed said. "If you're still in there, respond."
Kyle stepped back, heart hammering. He began to breathe. By breath made steady… The Drum aligned. By will made light… His body swayed slightly, motion constant, grounding. Bind what hunts… The chain was there—ready. He could feel it. But the light— The light wouldn't answer. Fear crept in. Not to destroy— What if he failed? But to deny its right. The chain strained to form. And then— Suddenly— The boy's body arched violently. Every candle in the room went out at once. And something laughed, not from the boy— —but from inside the walls. The boy screamed.
Not a child's scream—something layered beneath it, too deep, too old. The force of it threw everyone back. Chairs scraped. Salt scattered. One of Ed's assistants slammed into the wall and didn't get back up.
Kyle was hit hardest.
He staggered as if punched in the chest, breath knocked clean out of him.
"No—" Ed shouted. "Kyle!"
Kyle didn't fall.
He locked.
Feet planted. Spine straight. Breath caught halfway in.
The Drum thundered.
THADUM.
The chain erupted from him.
Not light—force. Links of pale intent snapped into existence, wrapping around the boy's body, sinking through flesh and into whatever writhed beneath. The demon shrieked as the chain tightened, dragged halfway out of the child's form.
The room shook.
Walls cracked.
Kyle's eyes rolled back—and then he was gone.
Inside the Mind
Kyle stood in a place that was not a place.
Endless dark, stretched thin like a tunnel made of memory and hunger. The demon coiled before him, vast and fractured, wearing pieces of faces it had stolen over time.
You are small, it hissed.
You are tired.
You will let go.
Kyle's knees buckled—but the chain held.
"I don't need to win," Kyle said through clenched teeth. "I just need to hold."
The demon lunged.
Pain tore through him—visions, screams, futures that weren't his. It tried to drown him in terror, to freeze him where he stood.
Kyle began to move.
Just a sway at first.
Left. Right.
Breath in.
Breath out.
Motion constant.
Grounded.
The demon recoiled, confused, enraged.
STOP—
"I won't," Kyle whispered. "I can do this all day."
The Physical World
Kyle's body stood rigid, breath moving in a precise rhythm. The chain glowed, links trembling but unbroken, wrapped tight around the demon's manifestation.
Lorraine saw his hands begin to shake.
"No," she breathed.
She stepped forward and placed her palm against the side of Kyle's head.
The world shifted.
Mind World — Reinforced
Lorraine appeared beside him, not whole, not solid—memory and will given form.
"Kyle," she said urgently. "Don't give up. You're not alone."
The demon shrieked at her presence, splitting its attention.
Kyle gasped. "It's trying to break me—"
"I know," Lorraine said softly. "Fight your battle. I'll help you hold."
She reached for the chain.
It stabilized.
Outside, Ed realized what was happening.
"NOW!" he roared at the priest. "BEGIN THE CHANT!"
The priest lifted the book—
—and coughed.
Blood splattered across the pages.
He dropped to one knee, choking, the earlier fall finally claiming its price.
"No—no—" Ed shouted. "Get up!"
The demon felt it.
Victory flickered.
With a final, vicious surge, it ripped itself free from the mind-space and slammed back into the physical world—dragging Kyle with it.
Kyle screamed.
The chain strained, cracking but not breaking.
The demon clawed at the links, forcing its way out inch by inch, the boy's body convulsing beneath it.
Lorraine held Kyle's head, voice breaking. "Stay with me. Breathe. Don't stop moving."
Ed grabbed the priest by the shoulders. "You finish this or that child dies!"
The demon roared, reality bending around it, chains screaming under the pressure.
Kyle's breath faltered.
Just for a second.
The chain flickered.
And the demon smiled.
The chain screamed.
Not a sound—a feeling. Like metal tearing through bone, like intent being pulled past what it was ever meant to endure.
Kyle's breath hitched.
Just once.
That was enough.
A fissure ripped through the chain, light splintering as one link cracked clean through. The demon felt it and surged forward, claws raking reality itself.
Lorraine gasped.
The backlash slammed into her like a wall.
She was lifted off her feet and hurled across the room, striking the far wall hard enough to leave a spiderweb of cracks. She slid down, breath gone, blood at the corner of her mouth.
"LORRAINE!" Ed shouted.
The demon turned toward her, delighted.
One more, it purred.I will take one more.
It lashed out.
The darkness was closing in.
The demon loomed, larger now, feeding on the fracture, on Kyle's exhaustion, on Lorraine's fading presence.
You are empty, it hissed.The light has abandoned you.
Kyle dropped to one knee.
His hands shook.
The chain unraveled in front of him, links dissolving like ash.
For the first time—
He was afraid he was going to die.
Not screaming.
Not fighting.
Just… slipping.
And then—
He remembered Greyback.
Mud in his mouth.Blood in his eyes.The moment he should have broken—
—but didn't.
The light hadn't answered him then either.
He had forced it.
Kyle clenched his fists.
"No," he whispered. "You don't get to decide when I'm done."
He reached inward.
Not for calm.
Not for purity.
For defiance.
The priest forced himself upright, blood running freely now, staining the floor.
Voice shaking—but unbroken—he began.
"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…"
The words cut through the room like iron.
The demon shrieked, distracted for a heartbeat.
That was all Kyle needed.
as I began the incantation, dragging each word from focus rather than sound.
In the brightest day—
In the darkest night—
A white-grey circle carved itself into the air around him, humming, absolute.
No evil shall escape my sight—
Light descended. Pressure given form.
demon howled as magic peeled from him the boys body.
For those who worship evil's might—
None shall escape my sight—
The spell began to burn the demon
Light descended. Pressure given form.
It ignited.
Light erupted from Kyle's chest in a violent surge—the same raw, burning brilliance he had unleashed against Greyback. Not gentle. Not holy.
Relentless.
The demon screamed as the light burned through its form, peeling it apart layer by layer.
Kyle stood.
The chain reformed—imperfect, jagged, cracked—but stronger for it.
He seized it with both hands and pulled.
"No more hiding," Kyle snarled. "No more children."
The demon thrashed, clawing toward Lorraine—
Kyle turned the light on it fully.
It howled as its grip failed, forced back, bound tighter than before.
Ed pressed harder, muscles screaming, holding the boy to the ground as the priest's chant grew louder, steadier, stronger.
"Adjuro te per Deum vivum—"
Lorraine stirred, coughing, forcing herself to look at Kyle.
And when she saw him standing in light—
She smiled.
Barely.
"Good," she whispered. "Don't stop."
The demon was breaking.
Not defeated.
But losing.
And it knew it.
Silence never lasts.
It cracked first in the boy's chest.
A wet, choking gasp tore free as the demon, half-bound and unraveling, twisted—not toward Kyle this time, but outward, hunting for purchase.
For a host.
Ed felt it before he saw it.
The air went cold around his spine.
The demon lunged.
Not at the child.
At him.
Shadow slammed into Ed's back like a blade, knocking the breath from his lungs. His vision blurred as something clawed for the inside of his mind—memories, regrets, the quiet guilt he carried like a second heart.
You would hold him, the demon hissed, but who holds you?
Ed staggered.
Lorraine screamed his name and tried to reach him—
The demon split.
A second tendril tore free, whipping toward her.
Kyle felt both.
Even unconscious, even broken, the Drum answered.
THADUM.
Kyle's eyes snapped open.
They were burning.
"No," he rasped.
The chain surged one final time, ripping out of him like exposed nerve. He threw it—not at the demon—
—but between it and them.
The light flared again, thinner now, unstable, tearing at him from the inside.
The demon shrieked, forced back into the collapsing bind.
The priest didn't stop.
Blood streamed down his chin as he raised the cross with shaking hands and finished the words that mattered.
"Per auctoritatem Dei omnipotentis—ego te expello!"
The room slammed shut.
Reality snapped back into place like a sealed wound.
The demon was descorporated into ash with the light of kyle and the help of priest screaming itself into nothingness, the chain imploding with it—
—and Kyle fainted falling back due to exhaustion.
In a mystery department a quill began to write an unspeakable looked
Date: 14 March 1979
Subject: Subject KYLE ….Kyle Prince
Status Review: A vessel of unkown origin (survived)
Wand aptitude: Nonstandard
Magical signature: Inconsistent
Squib classification: Inapplicable
Muggle classification: Inaccurate
Observations:
Subject does not emit active magic. Magical phenomena alter behavior in subject's presence. Faith-reactive entities disengage. Artifacts go dormant.
Notably:
No aggression detected. No possession vectors. No observable corruption. Conclusion: Subject does not meet criteria for Beast, Weapon, or Curse Bearer.
Recommendation:
Reclassify as Human — Conditional
Custody to remain with non-magical sensitives (Warren, E. & L.)
Observation only.