. . .
“Some people are in such utter darkness
that they will burn you just to see a light.”
— Kamand Kojouri
. . .
“So… this is really it?” Alastor asked, nonchalantly looking around them. He’s not really that impressed with the area.
The area in question, was a forest, one that had been free from humans for what seemed like a very long time, judging by faint, the lingering scent his nose can tell. He can barely pick up a human’s scent all the way from here… and like most isolated areas, it was mostly left behind to thrive on its own.
However, from what little of Aogashima’s history that Alastor actually knows of (which is, safe to say, only what Dionysus had offhandedly told him during his on-and-off drunken rants for the past few hours while he was trying to self-learn the Japanese language), the island had suffered from earthquake swarms and volcanic eruption that took the lives of its native islanders many years ago.
“Definitely an onryo,” Winters finally answered, her too-dark eyes focused somewhere straight ahead, no doubt probably already having a stare-down at the aforementioned being.
An onryo—a vengeful spirit from Japanese folklore that was said to be capable of physically manifesting itself to attack and kill victims. Kind of like a poltergeist in Alastor’s opinion... the problem that Alastor and Winters were called to take care of, no thanks to Dionysus’ unnecessary prompting. 
Whatever sense of serenity of any signs of polite friendliness she has showcased to the humans earlier, was wiped out of sight.
And this.
This is the Winters that Alastor has grown so used to seeing before William Veil was declared as an officially missing person.
Winters Veil, the goddess of shadows.
Proserpina.
So many names, so many faces… but still the same entity by the end of the day. Like another layer of mask being pushed and pulled into place.
Like an animal shedding its skin.
Unbidden, the phrase ‘wolf in sheep’s clothing’ suddenly came to his mind. Because if Alastor is essentially a wolf in sheep’s clothing, then she’s the kind of wolf who would be wearing the blood of the lamb on her hands and skin in her teeth.
Meanwhile, Winters silently led the way, practically moving in a way that reminded Alastor of a predator out on a prowl. Because a real predator does not make a sound when it’s out for blood.
And as he trails behind her, Alastor immediately noticed the sudden drop in the temperature… quite unusual as it wasn’t that even cold earlier. It was probably the onryo radiating that coldness or a side-effect of its presence here.
Even Winters had that kind of ability.
As he lagged a few steps back, Alastor quietly follows her through the forest, the two of them careful not to make a sound as the cold seemingly began to intensify until it condensed into the makings of a fog. 
Looking at his mate like this suddenly reminds Alastor of the first time he saw her standing so still amidst the trees under that misty rain back on September 1st. She was more of a shadowy silhouette in black than looking like an actual person from the distance. But then again, Winters wasn’t even really a person now, was she?
She suddenly stopped walking.
Alastor stopped as well, his boot suddenly crunching on a dried leaf. He glared at it in offense before looking up. Unlike her, he couldn’t really see past through this thickening fog, but at least he can pinpoint almost exactly where their target is now.
…because for a being that no longer possesses a body, it still managed to smell of rot and ruin. Of ice and burning fire.
It reeks.
Like charred flesh and bones left to dry out in the sun for far too long, Alastor resists the sudden urge to physically gag at such an awful smell.
The onryo had whipped its head around at the sudden noise, hair black as coals and face the color of burnt ashes, some of its decaying flesh still there… although most of it were patches of an angry reddish-brown, black, and disturbingly charred beyond recognition.
The edges of its very long hair seemed to light up, as if lit by an undying flame. Its perpetually bleeding empty eye sockets seeming to glower at the very sight of them.
It hisses something in… Japanese(?) as it began to turn to face them fully, only to recoil with half a step, as if struck, when Winters simply pointed Thanatos at it without a word, the air around it flickering to life like fireflies in a clear night.
Like glowing embers.
Looking at it more closely now, Alastor frowned at the sight. So, the onryo’s abilities has something to do with fire, huh? This could be difficult, especially in a place like this… but not entirely impossible to beat. He glanced at Winters then, who seemed to show no signs of fear to the evil spirit.
“Alastor. She just said she’s going to burn us all,” Winters suddenly tells him without moving her eyes away from the onryo. She didn’t even sound worried or threatened about that particular tidbit.
He shrugs, “No, thanks. We’re already smoking hot.”
Winters huffs but sagely ignores his witty remark, which is a damn shame because Alastor is quite proud of that one. But unlike him, her breath does not come out in thick puffs of air.
There was… nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Is Winters even still breathing?
“It’s death probably had something to do with fire,” she remarks as the onryo suddenly screeches like a banshee, charging straight towards them, singed grass, and crackling fire left trailing on its wake.
Winters suddenly spun in a dangerous half-circle as she swings her sword out at the last possible second, causing the onryo to jerk back in a burst of fiery smoke and embers with a ghastly shriek against the feel of the blade. Sparks flew from the contact, with the onryo left staggering away from the deflection.
Alastor coughs, raising an arm to cover half of his face as he moves a few paces back as well to avoid getting in her way, blazing sparks had been thrown dangerously close at his direction.
“…Or maybe it’s just an arsonist,” he muttered as he hurriedly patted out his coat sleeve before the fire spreads all over the cloth. This was his favorite coat, damn it. He readied his stance, “Say, honey… you don’t happen to have something that can help us fight its fire with fire, right?”
Without waiting for an answer, Alastor charged forward, only for the onryo to suddenly step out of the way, his fist narrowly hitting it.
Its hair wounded around his arm, reeling him in.
“What the f—!”  
“SHINEEEEEE!” It wails at his face, its bloody eyes burning red…!
Alastor does not panic.
He does not panic when its burnt maw began to open wide, far unnaturally wide than it should have been physically able to.
He still has a few seconds trying to jerk himself free…!
Only for the onryo to let out a rattling gasp, its horrifying face just a few inches close to Alastor’s own. He is forcefully drawn to its gaze and finds that he's trapped in those burning embers. It's all too ominous, all too dangerous, all too wicked.
But then, he sees it.
Something far more ancient and dangerous than fire could hope to be. Daring to look past the onryo’s furious eyes, Alastor found himself locking eyes at his mate now standing behind it.
With Thanatos half-buried in its back.
 “Hell yeah!” Alastor cheered, pumping his fist as the spirit visibly trembled when the blade retracted from its body in one, cruel motion, its figure beginning to crumble away into dust.
Like ashes on the wind.
Then, he blinked, turning to look at Winters who had stepped away without a word, sheathing Thanatos once she had flicked away some of the flecks of ashes off of her blade. He waved his hand to get rid some of the loose hair off of him as well.
“Wait,” Alastor pouts, “That was it…?”
She startles, “Don’t jinx it–!”
And that was when the half-formed onryo suddenly decided to let out a warped wail, the very center of its vaguely human-like body contorting wildly and burning up with an intense glow like its…
Like it was reaching a boiling point.
“Oh, shit,” Alastor whispered.