"Will!"
Joyce was about to rush into the shed when Gideon stopped her with an outstretched arm.
She stared at him, confused.
"Mrs. Byers, I need you to bring every lightbulb you have in the house," Gideon said, then turned to the boys.
"And you—prepare twenty-six sheets of paper, one letter of the alphabet on each."
He was going to do what Joyce had done in the original events—use lights and letters to communicate with soone from the Upside Down.
Yes, he needed to confirm the identity of that shadow in the shed.
Joyce imdiately understood, nodding hard. Without another word, she sprinted back inside.
Her heart was pounding—not just from hope, but from the sharp, calculating way this priest worked.
Monts later, she returned, arms full. She'd even gone so far as to unscrew the light tube from the bathroom ceiling.
Soon, the backyard was covered in bulbs, each one placed above a letter.
While Joyce had been busy, Gideon and Emma had been working too—laying down another protective circle around the shed, just in case the figure inside wasn't Will.
When everything was ready, Gideon faced the shed again.
"Spell it out for us…" he said.
After a few exchanges, he was certain—it was Will.
Joyce could no longer hold back. She crouched by the last bulb that had lit up, her trembling fingers brushing over it as if she were caressing her son's cheek.
Gideon hadn't expected to find Will so quickly. The Upside Down was vast, and Will had been constantly moving near his "ho" to avoid the Demogorgon.
Now that they had pinpointed his location, the question was how to bring him back.
He had a plan.
Creatures from the Upside Down could open passages between worlds. If they could lure one here, Will might slip through along the sa path.
He turned to Joyce. "Do you have any raw at? Preferably with blood."
She didn't hesitate—her trust in him was now complete. She went back inside, opened the fridge, and pulled out a package of frozen at Jonathan had bought earlier.
Hawkins was a small town; its butchering process was far from clean. The cheaper cuts from the market often still had blood in them.
After defrosting it, she poured the at and the blood-tinged liquid into a bowl.
Just then, the front door opened with a click.
"Creak—"
Jonathan stepped in, only to see his mother holding a bowl of raw at and blood.
"What's going on?" he asked, baffled.
"We found Will!" Joyce's voice trembled with excitent. "There's a priest—he's an exorcist—"
Raw at, blood, strange ritualistic behavior…
A chill ran through Jonathan's chest. Was his mother so grief-stricken she'd joined a cult?
His suspicion flared into alarm. He stepped forward, trying to snatch the bowl from her hands.
"Mom! I know you're hurting, but—"
It was clear she wouldn't listen. She moved past him toward the backyard. Jonathan followed, frowning.
What he saw next made his stomach drop.
Lightbulbs were arranged across the ground, each with a letter beneath it.
A ritual to summon so dark god—that's what it looked like to him.
And there were Will's three friends, clustered around an Asian priest, who was handing each of them a small cross.
"Hey! Who the hell are you?!" Jonathan stord into the yard, kicking the bulbs aside.
He grabbed a wooden stick from the ground, pointing it at Gideon.
"Stop this evil ritual right now, or I'll—"
Gideon blinked at him. "Relax. I'm here to save Will. You can ask your mo—"
"Don't try to brainwash !" Jonathan barked. "Get out of my house!"
Gideon turned to Joyce.
"I tried explaining… he doesn't believe ," she said, lagging behind with the bowl still in hand.
Gideon was about to speak again when his expression darkened.
A wave of danger washed over him.
Three bulbs on the ground lit up in sequence: R, U, N.
"Mike, Dustin—get over here!" Gideon called, retreating to the protective circle.
Jonathan, thinking his threats had worked, tightened his grip on the stick—until he saw the boys staring at sothing behind him, eyes wide.
He turned slowly.
The bark of a nearby tree was warping, bulging outward to reveal the outline of a massive creature.
It had a vaguely human shape, but it was nearly three ters tall. Its claws were long and razor-sharp.
A jagged crack split the tree's surface, glowing faintly red from within.
"What… is that?" Jonathan whispered, frozen in place.
The claw swung toward him—he didn't even flinch.
"Jonathan!" Joyce's voice cracked with panic.
He braced for the blow—
But the creature suddenly turned aside, reaching down instead.
Its talons closed around a cross lying at the base of the tree.
Sizzle—
The tal seared its flesh, smoke curling from the burn. The monster roared but didn't let go.
Gideon's brow furrowed.
Only after five long seconds did the creature release the cross and vanish.
When Gideon looked toward the shed, Will's shadow was gone too.
The Upside Down's presence in the backyard… had been wiped away.
The wind stirred, and the yard was still again.
Gideon's senses stayed razor-sharp as he stepped back, scanning the area.
If he wasn't mistaken, that silhouette was the Demogorgon's "King."
But unlike normal beasts, this thing had more than instinct—it had restraint.
That thought brought him to another na.
The Mind Flayer.
The true ruler of the Upside Down—
a single will ford from the thoughts of every creature in that realm.
Did it realize the Demogorgon couldn't beat … and retreat?
Gideon wondered.
"F–Father… what was that just now?"
Jonathan's voice trembled; his clothes clung to him with sweat.
"The monster that took your brother," Gideon said evenly.
Emma spoke up before Jonathan could respond.
She laid out Gideon's plan to bait a creature into crossing over—so Will could follow the opened path back.
"And thanks to you," she snapped, "that plan is ruined."
Her glare was ice-cold; inside, she was seething.
He had undone hours of careful preparation in monts.
---
"Will!" Joyce had rushed to the string of bulbs.
None of them lit.
"Father… where is he now?" she asked, her voice breaking.
"I'm sorry," Gideon said, spreading his hands. "I've lost his trail."
Whoever—or whatever—ruled the Upside Down had deliberately severed the link to this world.
"I… I'm sorry," Jonathan stamred, guilt washing over him.
The mory of what had just happened left no doubt—he had made a terrible mistake.
---
anwhile, deep beneath Hawkins.
In the underground observation chamber of the National Laboratory,
a massive rift split one wall, its jagged edges glowing red.
From it, vine-like tendrils snaked outward—black and red, pulsing as if alive.
Dozens of researchers in hazmat suits moved about, collecting samples, recording data.
Mark, one of the technicians, noticed movent inside the fissure.
Curious, he stepped closer.
A fluid shadow seeped out, stopping just inches from his visor.
In the months he had worked here, he had never seen anything like it.
Excitent fluttered in his chest.
Dr. Martin Brenner himself had promised that anyone who discovered sothing new in the rift would be handsoly rewarded—
a published paper in a top journal, a fortune, prestige.
Mark could already see his future.
He raised his scanner, hands shaking as he leaned in.
Pop.
The shadow lunged—smashing through his face shield and forcing its way into his mouth.
Cold horror spread through him. Sothing was inside.
Then—nothing.
He went limp.
Others noticed, too late.
More shadows poured from the rift, striking at every researcher in the chamber.
Before the place was completely overrun, one scientist—barely conscious—slamd a hand down on the alarm.
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