Henry Stein

The old Joey Drew Studios is once again filled with the sound of dripping ink. After some events that happened recently, Henry, Alice, Tom, and Bendy were staying away from the main corridors of the studio. In one of the rooms, which they turned into their base.

They chose this place on purpose, knowing it had the least amount of danger for them. The walls here were cleaner, ink didn’t drip from every corner, and the lamps were still working, even if they flickered from time to time. This place didn’t feel safe. But it wasn’t hostile.

Consciousness and memories return slowly to Sammy after Henry managed to free his soul from the ink, even though his body didn’t change. Not suddenly — as if someone is carefully pulling him back, step by step. At first — silence. Not empty, but heavy. The kind that rings in the ears. The ink no longer presses from the inside. It feels strange after so many years. Wrong. As if something was torn out of him — not without pain, but not without relief either. The body doesn’t respond. Breathing is uneven, as if the lungs haven’t been used in a long time. The air is cold, with the taste of old dust and dampness.

Henry clenched his fingers. The light — his magic — on his hands flickered faintly, not bright, not aggressive. Just a sign that the power was still with him. He still didn’t fully understand it. He only knew this: the ink was no longer stronger than him — now he could control it. Limited. Careful. But it was enough for him.

Henry was close to Sammy while he lay on an old couch, covered with some kind of blanket, while Henry himself sat on the edge of the bed. Tense, afraid to even breathe too loudly. Sammy lay motionless. Too motionless.

Henry (his voice hoarse, as if he hadn’t spoken in a long time): “Sammy… Hey. If you can hear me… please.”

No response…

But suddenly, a woman’s voice was heard. It was Alice, standing by the doorway. Tom was here as well, silent, his posture tense, ready to protect everyone in case of danger.

Alice (asking carefully): “Did he wake up?”

Henry shook his head — briefly. And at that moment, he felt a light tug on his sleeve. Little Bendy was standing nearby, looking at Sammy attentively. No fear. No smile. Just… curiosity.

Bendy (quietly asking): “Is he not bad anymore?”

Henry kept his gaze on Sammy.

Henry: “Yes, — he answered after a pause. — I think so.”

Bendy slowly stepped closer, without touching him, just watching.