“I know how it sounds. Just shut up for a minute and let me explain. No, I know that’s what they’re saying. But… Please, listen,” Anita paced the alley, trying to keep herself from talking over the person on the lines. “No, fuck—I mean, sorry. But you’re not listening. I’m not, I don’t need fucking help. Not that kind of help, at least. You know what, go fuck yourself,” she squeezed her thumb against the end call button.

“Fuck fuck, fuck fuck fuck, fucking hell!” She dropped down to the curb and hunched forward.

“Fucking fucker, for fucks sake.”

“Um, excuse me.”

She looked up to see a bright blue-eyed man with slicked-back hair.

“You okay?”

“Do I look okay?”

“Not really,” he smiled and pulled a packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. “I don’t normally offer these to strangers, but you look like you could use one.”

Anita eyed the packet as he flicked the lid off and slid one forward with his thumb.

“Fuck it,” she said, taking the cigarette.

“Here,” he leaned forward, producing a lighter.

The cigarette’s tip brightened with a glowing red, and Anita coughed softly as she pulled the smoke into her lungs.

“Not a first-timer, are you?”

“No,” Anita shook her head as she took another puff.

“Good,” he said, lowering himself beside her and taking one out for himself. “I assume you don’t always cuss this much?”

“You mean when my life isn’t a fucking wreck?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“I try not to.”

He smiled and chuckled softly, “Good to hear.”

“Advanced warning, I’m not fucking you no matter how smooth you are,” she drew on the cigarette.

“Hey, hey, what do you take me for?” He raised a hand defensively.

Anita turned her gaze on him and narrowed her eyes as she took another puff.

He tilted and shrugged, “Fine, fine, you got me. But damn, you look good, even cussing your head off in a dirty alley.”

“At least you're honest,” she murmured, taking another drag.

“Now, what could possibly be so bad to get a beautiful girl like you this worked up?”

“I don’t feel like talking about it. At least not to a stranger.”

“Fair,” he shrugged. “Truth is, I’ve seen you before.”

“What do you mean? That’s a pretty creepy thing to say to a stranger, you know?”

“You come here a lot. It got me wondering, has it got something to do with that man who went missing here?”

“What the fuck do you know about that?” Her brow bent.

“Hey, come on. Say the magic word, and maybe I’ll share,” he said calmly, taking another drag.

“Okay, please.”

“That didn’t sound very genuine.”

“Please,” Anita said through gritted teeth.

“You really need to work on your manners. But I’ll humor you. What would you think if I told you I know who took him?”

“Don’t fuck with me, creep!”

Taking a long, deep drag, he exhaled and paused for an excruciating moment before replying.

“I’m not, believe it or not.”

“Speak.”

“Oh, come on, loosen up.”

“Speak!”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Fine,” the man extended a hand, “The name’s Markus Katiana.”

She stared back at the man.

“Do you want to know more or not?”

Cautiously, she took his hand, “Anita Rodriguez. Now, what the fuck do you know?”

“Wait one moment,” Markus said, finishing his cigarette. “This information is best served from the lips of my benefactor. Please, would you like to meet her?” he extended a hand.

“Where is this benefactor?”

Markus gestured down the alley.

“Yeah, like fucking hell I’m going to be whisked away by some strange man in an alley.”

“Understandable,” he smiled and nodded. “I guess I’ll be leaving then. Good luck, Anita. I wish you luck finding Abraham.”

“How do you know that name? The media never released it.”

“Like I said, I have information.”

“That’s it, just a name?”

Shuffling through the front pocket of his jacket for a short moment, he produced several Polaroids and passed them to Anita, “This better?”

The dark polaroids were almost too hazy to see anything besides the hazy outlines of two figures. She continued to flick through the photos until she froze.

A streetlamp cast just enough light onto the man’s face for her to make out his features.

“Abe,” she mouthed. “How did you get this? And who the fuck is that?”

Her eyes were glued to the silver-haired vixen in the next photo—her legs were tangled around Abe as she pressed him against the wall.

“Motherfucker,” she growled, pulling out the next.

In the next photo, Abe is on the alley floor with the girl standing above him.

“Believe me now?”

“The police don’t even…”

“The police can’t help you with this, I’m afraid. If you want to know more, I suggest you come with me.”

“O-okay,” she stammered. “Where?”

“Just this way,” he said, standing and directing her to a limousine parked with its engine humming softly at the end of the alley.

Markus stepped ahead to open a door for her, bowing slightly as Anita stepped inside and hurriedly making his way around to the other side.

Anita sat in silence, going back and forth through the photos inside the spacious leather interior.

“Driver,” Markus said, tapping on the window. “We’re ready.”

“Why… why does your benefactor want to help me?”

“It’s a duty towards justice,” Markus smiled. “She just wants to help.”

“Sure,” Anita mumbled, barely hearing the words as she stared at the photos.

The car hummed into gear.

“You’ll be alright,” Markus smiled, his grin widening to display his abnormally sharp, fang-like teeth.

******

Weeks had passed, and in that time, Abe had navigated every inch of the underground cavern without finding an escape.

The shardworld gathered little enough deathly energy as it was, and beneath the surface, it received even less. This was the reason sporeling had been able to survive. And it also meant that Abe’s recovery was pitiful.

Regardless, some of his strength was returning. The problem was his hunger for Miss Nia’s blood, which was running short. If we waited long enough, his deathly energy would recover, but he would be weakening or even dying from not feeding on her blood.

Over time, walking around his underground prison became easier, and Abe found a small stream running down from above.

Water provided no relief in his undead form, but it carried with it deathly energy from the shardworld’s surface, which received far more errant energy from the Vale.

Drinking water came as distasteful and unnatural as eating dirt for a human, but Abe endured for the scraps of deathly energy it filled him with.

His time beneath the ground also gave him a moment to be introspective. It wasn’t the first time he had some peace, but the short moments of downtime he had since becoming a ghoul had been so short, and in the middle of so much chaos, he couldn’t think much. Not that it changed a lot. He still sought to return to Miss Nia’s side and grow powerful. But he questioned why. His desire was irrational; Abe knew that, but no matter how much he challenged the thought, it persisted.

Her blood cast some kind of spell on him, he was pretty sure. Any thoughts that weren’t positive toward her were difficult to maintain, but as he grew stronger, he felt that grip weakening. It wouldn’t be long if he continued at the pace he was going before he could decide on his own what kind of relationship he desired to have with her.

For now, he had to focus on recovering and growing stronger. Every day was a routine in which he drank from the water, walked through the caves, and cautiously tested his strength.

The problem was that he couldn’t risk exerting himself, as using too much energy could doom him. But he needed to gauge his returning strength since the only way of escaping the cave was the hole he had crashed through when entering. And if he attempted such a climb before he was ready, he would likely exert too much energy, fail, and doom himself to the cave. If he was going to survive, the timing for his escape had to be perfect.

I’m almost ready; I can feel it.

Are you certain? I can feel your weakness. Your failure will condemn us both.

I know that. And I’d appreciate it if you kept your thoughts to yourself if you don’t have anything helpful to provide.

Noted, I will attempt that. But you should know that it is within my nature to guide. In my domain, I am an Elder Sporeling, and my job is to lead our young to higher states of existence. To remain quiet is antithetical to what I am.

I don’t care. Just shut up unless you have some actual advice. I don’t want to get stuck down here any more than you do. But if I don’t do something soon, we’re going to run out of chances.

Understood. I shall leave the decision-making up to you despite your obvious shortcomings.

Okay, we’re done. Not another word.

Silence followed.

Finally, Abe sighed. Getting used to the worms was one thing. As creepy as they were, they didn’t have an attitude or the ability to invade his thoughts with their speeches whenever they felt like it. Mor’kel—the sporeling with whom he now shared his body, on the other hand, did not have such restrictions.

Abe was starting to get a good understanding of the limits of his undead form, and he knew that if he waited too much longer, the weakness growing inside from his thirst for Miss Nia’s blood would become too much.

Just three days, that’s what he gave himself to escape. Beyond that, waiting would be a detriment.

Sitting against the rocky wall, Abe closed his eyes and attempted to channel his deathly energy. It was a technique he was developing based on Viara’s meditation. He was still a beginner, but being in the cave with so little deathly energy seemed to help his progress. With so little energy, it was easy to focus on and easy to pull towards his hungry body. He knew he wouldn’t master it down here, but if he could at least develop a foundation while subjected to the weak atmosphere of the cave, he could later develop it into a powerful tool.