Chapter 34: Unfamiliar Alicia (4)

Buzz buzz.

Sparkkk...

A flickering light filled the room with its dull, inconsistent radiance, casting wavering shadows that seemed to stretch and twist like grasping fingers.

Kreed, now strapped tightly to a cold, metallic bed, lay in silence, his mind swirling with unease. He had been left to brood ever since the incident on the dock. After speaking with the cohort of individuals who had welcomed them, he was abruptly seized and incarcerated. The two uniformed soldiers had dragged him through a labyrinthine tunnel with no explanation.

Of course, Kreed would have resisted—he should have resisted—but his body had betrayed him. After hearing the heated argument between Zalie and Alden, where Alden had apparently dared to face the gods, Kreed found himself paralyzed. His muscles locked up, his joints stiffened, and even his tendons seemed to refuse his commands. He was frozen in place, drenched in cold sweat as countless gazes fell upon him. These weren’t ordinary stares; they bore an unrelenting weight that crushed his will. What terrified him more was that no one else seemed affected by it. Not Zalie, not Alden—only him.

This singularity left Kreed scared and confused.

Now, in this strange, sterile room, he was entirely at the mercy of a group of masked individuals. Strapped to the table, unable to move, he watched helplessly as they worked. They collected samples from his body: saliva, blood, a lock of his hair, even a sliver of his nails. Cold, unfeeling machines surrounded him, their screens alive with unreadable data. The rhythmic beeps and hums created an oppressive symphony, punctuated by the harsh clicks of equipment being adjusted. A looming X-ray machine passed over him, its sharp blue light illuminating his pale skin.

Throughout the entire ordeal, Kreed’s gaze was fixed on one person.

She stood just outside the room, arms folded across her chest, her presence exuding authority. Her eyes, piercing and devoid of empathy, bore into him like daggers. It was Tista—the same woman who had made even Alden wary. She gave curt instructions to the doctors, her tone icy and unwavering.

Kreed tried to focus on her, hoping to decipher her intentions, but his mind was foggy. A sharp prick in his arm signaled the injection of anesthesia, and his thoughts began to fragment.

As his vision blurred, two more figures joined Tista outside the observation window. One was Zalie, casually licking a lollipop, her expression betraying a mix of curiosity and detachment. The other figure caused Kreed’s breath to hitch.

It was someone he had seen long ago.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

A final thought flashed through his fading consciousness:

"Why is he here?"

---

Flick, flick, flick.

Fwosh.

A dim, orange flame sputtered to life within a rusted lantern, its light struggling against the encroaching darkness. Shadows twisted and writhed across the walls, as though alive, each movement amplifying the suffocating dread in the room.

Kreed blinked, disoriented. He was no longer in the sterile testing chamber. Instead, he found himself seated in a decayed, rotting room. The wooden walls were warped and cracked, covered in layers of mildew that released an acrid, damp smell. A soft dripping sound echoed in the distance, though no source was visible.

The air was stifling and heavy, thick with the scent of decay. Cobwebs blanketed the corners, trembling as though something unseen lurked within them. A single, splintered wooden table stood at the center of the room, its surface marred with scratches and dark stains. The lantern rested on the table, its flame weak yet defiant.

Kreed’s pulse quickened. He knew this place.

"I’m back," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Finally."

The memories hit him like a tidal wave. This was the abandoned cabin on Apostles Island. A place he thought he had long forgotten. The oppressive atmosphere didn’t feel foreign—it felt like home, a sinister sanctuary where his fractured mind had once sought refuge.

Across the table sat a figure, partially obscured by the lantern’s flickering light.

Kreed’s breath caught in his throat. He had forgotten this. Forgotten him.

"That’s right," he muttered, his voice cracking. "I was never alone on Apostles Island. I’ve always had you."

The figure chuckled softly, the sound unnervingly human yet tinged with something unnatural. "Indeed, Kreed," it replied, its voice a chilling mixture of warmth and menace.

Kreed’s memories rushed back, clearer now. Five years ago, when he had been all alone, his mind had created this being. What had begun as a figment of his imagination—a coping mechanism for his isolation—had become something more. Every night, in his dreams, Kreed met this entity. He shared everything with it: his fears, his frustrations, his discoveries. In those moments, it had been his only companion.

But as the years passed, Kreed’s fragile psyche had blurred the lines between reality and illusion. He had come to believe in the being’s existence. It wasn’t just a product of his mind anymore; it was real to him.

And then he had forgotten. The ruins of Caelan had broken him, erasing the progress he had made, along with the memory of his "friend."

Now, after so long, they were reunited.

Kreed stared across the table, taking in the figure’s grotesque form. It was skeletal, its hollow eye sockets housing a consuming darkness that seemed to pull at his soul. The creature’s body was draped in a rich red robe, its surface adorned with black ribbons and accents. Two jagged horns jutted from its skull, curving back to merge seamlessly with its spine. The being exuded an aura of death, yet Kreed found himself unable to look away.

It was horrifying, yes—but to Kreed, it was also beautiful.

"Dell," he whispered, the name slipping from his lips like a long-lost secret.

Dell inclined its head slightly, acknowledging the name Kreed had given it.

As the two sat in silence, a strange object appeared on the table beside the lantern. It was a pendant, a mix of black, gold, and crimson. Its surface shimmered faintly, reflecting the lantern’s glow with a blood-red tint. At its center, a peculiar symbol was engraved: a hook with a dot at its base, resembling a question mark.

Kreed picked it up, turning it over in his hands. Its weight was comforting, grounding him in this surreal nightmare. "What is this?" he asked, his voice steady despite the tension in the air.

Dell’s bony fingers twitched slightly as it leaned forward. "It’s your newest relic," it said, its tone calm and deliberate. "A token of what’s to come."

Kreed furrowed his brow, unsure of what Dell meant. Before he could respond, golden words materialized in the air, glowing faintly. The symbols were familiar, reminiscent of those that had described other relics he had encountered.

---

The nightmare deepened. The room seemed to breathe, the walls expanding and contracting in sync with Kreed’s own uneven breaths. The light of the lantern flickered wildly, casting distorted reflections onto the pendant’s surface. Kreed tightened his grip on the relic, feeling a strange connection to it.

He glanced back at Dell, who was now watching him intently, its empty eye sockets somehow conveying a silent understanding.

Kreed realized something then—something chilling. This wasn’t just a dream. It wasn’t just his mind conjuring illusions to protect him. There was a purpose to all of this, a reason he was here.

Kreed felt a mix of terror and anticipation. For the first time in years, he wasn’t alone.