I walked out of the washroom, my shirt wetter than when I entered. Having splashed some water on my shirt, I felt like a child having spilled food on their onesie.

‘Maybe washing my face with my blood would be better.’ I wondered when I’d be able to use this joke live. ‘Perhaps no time soon.’

Walking to the deck, I embraced the shining heat of the sun. I have noticed this place is still much hotter than where I was born, even this late in the year. I wondered if this place has late winter, or maybe I’m just in a different hemisphere.

But considering how quickly the news had traveled, I believe I should still be in the hemisphere. A different empire, yes. But not that far away.

I forced myself against from thoughts as I found myself leaning by the railings and caressing the jagged surface of the metal beneath my palm; my fingers tracing the characters engraved in the underbelly of the railing as I remembered the last night.

I had woken up shocked, the doors to my room a tad open and the cold wind shuttling in. The corridors were covered in a thin film of darkness and so was my room. I remembered lighting the lantern before I went to sleep. The only light source was the tender stolen light of the moon.

I barely lifted myself from the floor, my back hurting a little and I felt soreness within me. It was not one of the muscles, as I don’t believe my healing factor couldn’t heal that. It was something more.

I hadn’t had the moment or the spare presence of mind to take care of it. I knew I had blown my cover already when I lifted my head so hard earlier. I chastised myself for doing something so stupid but knew I had to move quick and subtly, in case I was still under wraps.

I laid my head back against the floor, carefully and lightly, then in a practiced motion I rolled to the side facing my bed as I pretended I was still asleep. Cracking my eyelids an inch, I scrutinized the room through the darkness. Any creak of the floor, a silhouette in the shadow. I looked for a sign.

There was nothing. No one. My room was barely bigger for someone to be hiding behind me, and if someone really was. Well then… it’s a struggle to death.

With care, I opened my eyelids more and took in the room properly. There really was no one there. I still dared not to get up properly. I used my left hand and threw it around pretending I was having a nightmare. I did not know how convincing my acting was.

I did not hit anyone. There was no one in the room. Maybe they had already left. The room was silent as a lonely ghost.

Finally sitting up, I stumbled to my chair as the soreness prevented me from moving much. My back was drenched in sweat and my back itched. The wooden surface of the chair suddenly felt so sharp and pointy and rough. The shirt strangling me alive.

I sat there for a while, regulating my breath, a few buttons of my shirt loose, as I once again searched my room in vain. There was no one here. I heaved a sigh of relief but my eyes never left the open door. Expecting a hand to suddenly grasp its open edges and shove it aside.

The moments of me looking at the door with utmost concentration passed through a sludge. Every instance longer than it had any right to be, and the mental pressure it put me under was hitherto unmatched.

But nothing eventually happened, after an eternity of waiting, I finally recovered enough to move my feet and go close that door. Standing up I struggled to find my balance, and walking towards the door proved even harder, my calves brushing against the bedsheets.

And then I felt a yank! A hand grasped my leg and pulled me so hard I fell face first, my chin taking the brunt as I felt it crack. But I had no moment to inspect it, a hand still tightly grasped my leg. It’s long sharp nails cutting into my calves.

I jerked back, and it was gone!

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The bed was as quiet and simple as it always had been, but I scurried away. The bed displayed a horror I hadn’t felt since I was a kid. For an instant, I even thought I imagined it, but then I looked at my leg and it still bore the holes and blood flowing out.

Reaching the other end of the room, I sat there with my back against the wooden walls. My heart thumping in my chest sent a crawling shiver through the walls.

I did not move from there for moments and moments. My eyes darted towards the dark tunnel of the bed but always glazed over it. I was just too scared to look at it. Instead, I always settled on looking over the door. The danger of the door more palpable and real.

I tried to hear for sounds from outside, any noise or disturbances, but I could not find any. The outside was unknown, and much scarier all of a sudden.

Then there was a noise.

It had come from under my bed, and I was finally forced to confront it. A piece of paper flew from under it and landed exactly in the center of the room. The white of the paper seemed to shine. I did not know if it was because of the white of it, or someone else.

I tried to read from afar what was written on it, but the paper had landed on its face. Or maybe there was never really anything written on it. Perhaps it was some kind of trap. Maybe I would die if I looked at it.

But I realized I had nothing I could do, I was stuck with my back against a wall (literally). I tried to feel for the letter through my senses, and it really looked like a small piece of paper. It had this tiny amount of warm current around it, which I knew was the fate of any paper I’ve seen till now.

I tried to look at the bed, and it too felt normal. I started distrusting my senses, why is it not working!? There’s definitely something. Maybe the threat has left? Maybe it was here just to deliver the message?

I hoped for the reprieve, I did not know if I had. Stuck in this paralyzing realization of trusting my instincts and actually moving forward, I called for the mist within me. A brush appeared in my hand, and it felt to have taken something much deeper from within. The ache within me increased slightly but I powered through for now.

Lifting the brush, I diffused the air with the mist. Using the technique of impasto, I made it heavier and it felt alive in the room. The mist heavier and more real, now had a texture to it. It was soft, and it felt cold.

The room was now covered in a few layers of soft-cold mist. I did not have it in my reserves to produce anything more than this and I could already feel the hollowness approaching me like a beast ready to swallow.

I stopped just short of losing consciousness, but the room already was covered. I did not think anyone would be able to see even the other side of this small room, all except me.

Only I could see here, and it finally gave me some confidence. Some confidence to move forward and pick up the paper.

I crawled forward with caution and a snail’s pace. My focus split between looking at the open door, between the bed, the drop of sweat on my forehead, the changes in the mist, the noise of my movement, the shadows in the corridor, the, the, the, the.

I finally reached the paper.

My focus instantly converged. The paper itself seemed to take a toll on me, and I felt a weight on my shoulders, pushing and pulling me towards the paper.

I picked up the paper and turned it around, it was mostly empty except for a few words written in a slanted beautiful calligraphy.

“Have you ever admired the water?”

‘What the fuck is this!?’ I cursed internally. What is this silly prank? I lost focus for a second, my eyes glazing over the paper as my mind focused on all the times I’d almost drowned.

I was yanked out of my mind as a strong force grabbed my leg and pulled me. A shriek left my mouth but it had no voice in it. I couldn’t speak, my mind went blank and my heart ached within my chest. A brush had appeared in my hand but then something disrupted it!

I was defenseless and hurtling through the corridor. My head hurt, my chest was bruised, and my face cracked in places. I saw the world spinning and almost puked.

And finally, when I thought I’d lose myself, it stopped. What had once come so suddenly, was gone just as suddenly. A hurricane of pain and dizziness.

I rolled on the ground, puking my guts out on the floor as adrenaline rushed through me. My ears were numb and a constant ringing sound stroked my head.

After what felt like hours of me just puking and lying on the floor, gazing at the night sky up ahead, did I come to terms with what just happened. Someone was after me and I felt like I was gonna die. Someone would be there, biding their time, having their fun, waiting for me to beg, waiting to pull the final trigger.

Nothing happened.

Barely conscious at this point, I struggled to lift my head. It hurt everywhere and I thought it’d be better to simply die here. But I still struggled against despair and lifted myself. There was something here that called to me.

It was like a sun to my weakened senses. A point of warm currents so concentrated, I thought it’d destroy me.

I sat up and the fact that I was on the deck clicked. The warm feeling was coming from the railings. I crawled towards it. Struggling my head just below the railing, I looked at its underbelly. There it was, engraved upon the metal in the same beautiful cursive writing,

“We see you, and we are waiting for you.”

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