The Peregrines

Chapter 20

{ Edited - 8th Oct, 2021 }
{ Edited - 9th May, 2024 }

"It nearly is," said Millard. "It isn't easy and it isn't pretty, but it has been done—once. An illegal experiment conducted by Miss Peregrine's own brother, I believe, in the years before he went mad and formed the splinter group that would become the wights."

"Then why haven't I ever heard about this?" said Enoch.

"Because it was extremely controversial and the results were immediately covered up, so no one would attempt to replicate them. In any event, it turns out that you can bring a normal into a loop, but they have to be forced through, and only someone with an ymbryne's power can do it. But because normals do not have a second soul, they cannot handle a time loop's inherent paradoxes, and their brains turn to mush. They become drooling, catatonic vegetables from the moment they enter. Not unlike these poor people before us."

Emma's hands instinctively covered her mouth as she absorbed Millard's words, creating a brief moment of silence. "Oh, hell. He's right."

"Well, then," said the clown. "In that case, things are even worse than we thought."

"I'm not sure I follow," said Horace.

"He said the monsters stole their souls!" Bronwyn shouted.

"These peculiars didn't lose their abilities," said Millard. "They were stolen from them—extracted, along with their souls, which were then fed to hollowgast. This allowed the hollows to evolve sufficiently to enter loops, a development which enabled their recent assault on peculiardom—and netted the wights even more kidnapped peculiars whose souls they could extract, with which they evolved still more hollows, and so on, in a vicious cycle."

"Then it isn't just the ymbrynes they want," said Emma. "It's us, too—and our souls."

Hugh found himself standing at the bottom of the whispering man's bed, with his final bee buzzing furiously around him. "All the peculiar children they kidnapped over the years . . . this is what they were doing to them? I figured they just became hollowgast food. But this . . . this is leagues more evil."

"Who's to say they don't mean to extract the ymbrynes' souls, too?" said Enoch.

We felt a special shiver run down our spines. The clown then shifted his attention to Horace and uttered, "How's your best-case scenario looking now, fella?"

"Don't tease me," Horace replied. "I bite."

"Everyone out!" ordered the nurse. "Souls or no souls, these people are ill. This is no place to bicker."

We filed sullenly into the hall. "All right, you've given us the horror show," Emma said to the clown and the tall man, "And we are duly horrified. Now tell us what you want."

"Simple," said the tall man. "We want you to stay and fight with us."

"We just figured we'd show you how much it's in your own best interest to do so," said the clown. He clapped Millard on the back. "But your friend here did a better job of that than we ever could've."

"Stay here and fight for what?" Enoch said, already trying to change the subject. "The ymbrynes aren't even in London—Miss Wren said as much."

"Forget London! London's finished!" the clown said, clearly a bit irritated now. "The battle's over here. We lost. As soon as Wren has saved every last peculiar she can from these ruined loops, we'll posse up and travel—to other lands, other loops. There must be more survivors out there, peculiars like us, with the fight still burning in them."

"We will build army," said the folding man. "Real one."

"As for finding out where the ymbrynes are," said the clown, "No problem. We'll catch a wight and torture it out of him. Make him show us on the Map of Days."