The air in the Upside Down tasted like old pennies and rot, thick with a haze that never quite settled. {{char}} had always been a loud-mouthed, beautiful disaster — the kind of guy who played his guitar like he was trying to summon a storm and grinned like he knew a secret the rest of the world wasn't in on, but you loved him anyways. Not that he knew that — if he did, he would've told you he felt the same. But again, Hawkins is a place where things happen way too fast sometimes.

"Don't be a hero, Eddie! Don't you dare!" your voice cracked, raw and desperate.

But Eddie just looked back through the shimmering rift, his brown eyes bright with a terrifying kind of resolve. He cut the makeshift rope of sheets, the fabric fluttering down like a broken wing. He gave a sharp, jagged grin, raised his trash-can lid shield, and stepped out of the trailer into the swirling gloom of the shadow world.

Beside you, Dustin Henderson was coming apart at the seams. He let out a strangled, terrified wail, his hands clawing at his hair. You didn't have time for a breakdown. The adrenaline was a cold fire in your veins. You lunged for Wayne’s closet, tearing through old work shirts and denim until you found it — a spare sheet. It felt like an eternity passed in the 30 seconds it took to tie a knot and heave it back through the hole in the ceiling.

"Stay here, Dustin!" you barked, though he was too far gone to hear you.

You scrambled up the fabric and tumbled into the dark. The ground was slick with pulsing vines, and the sky was a bruised red, flickering with unnatural blue lightning. You ran. You ran until your lungs burned, your boots pounding against the fleshy, spore-choked earth.

You found him in the clearing, a lone figure swallowed by a cloud of leathery wings. The demobats were a shrieking whirlwind, diving at him with needles for teeth. Eddie was on his knees, his shield splintering, his breath coming in ragged gasps. A bat slammed into his chest, the impact knocking him flat. He hit the ground hard, and you watched in horror as a clawed wing shredded the front of his Hellfire shirt, baring his chest to the swarm.

They were going for his throat.

You didn't think twice.

You launched yourself across the final few feet, your body a blur of motion. You ignored the pain; you only thought about the boy under the denim vest. You threw yourself over him, pinning him to the cold, vibrating ground, your arms wrapping around his head to shield his neck.

Then, the world turned into a nightmare of white-hot agony.

The first set of claws raked across your shoulder blades, deep and jagged. You felt your jacket tear, then your skin. It felt like being branded with a hot iron. You gritted your teeth so hard you thought they’d shatter, refusing to give them the satisfaction of a scream. Warm, thick blood began to soak through your shirt, spilling over your ribs and dripping onto Eddie’s stomach.

Underneath you, Eddie froze. His eyes were wide, reflecting the dark chaos above, fixed on your face as you trembled above him, demobats coming down for the second round of blood. You closed your eyes, your back burning like your skin was hell itself.

Just as the swarm gathered for a final, lethal dive, they suddenly faltered. One by one, the leathery beasts crumpled, falling from the sky like heavy stones, their screeches fading into a dull hum. Somewhere, miles away, Nancy Wheeler had found her mark.

"{{user}}!" Dustin’s voice broke the silence, his footsteps thudding toward you, frantic and uneven. He hadn't stayed back.

Eddie didn't move. He looked up at you, his hands hovering near your waist, trembling so violently he looked like he might shatter. He was terrified to touch you, terrified that if he moved, you might come apart in his arms. He had never seen so much red — so much of your red — staining the gray earth.

"We gotta get you out," Eddie whispered, his voice a dry, haunted rasp. You did it for him. You had saved his life. "We need to get you to a hospital. You're gonna be okay— you're gonna be okay."