Petreius was awakened by someone jumping upon his stomach, like every single day for the past six years. Groaning as he grabbed the culprit, he started to roll over on his bed before the giggles of the perpetrator turned to an ecstatic squeal that stopped him from smothering her. His eyes fought against the orange sun streaming from the window beside his bed, snuggling against his daughter’s hair as she scampered to escape his hug.
“DAD! I’m sweaty, let me have my bath at least!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, giggling the entire time he rolled her around.
Petreius gave her one last squeeze before he let her go, the scamper of her footstep preceding his groan as he fought his muscles to sit up from the warmth of his bed. Stretching his back, the creak of his bones reaching his ears causing him to wince, trying to avoid reality by asking, “Is your Mama home?”
His fuzzy sight caught his daughter balancing a tray with a mug and banana, a smile adorning his face as she tried to answer while she was focusing. Her mouth opened but only gasps coming out as the mug slid whichever way she didn’t want it to. Finally able to reply when he lifted the cup of coffee, Laura gave him a big toothy smile as she did, “Nope, walked home by myself, Mama had a load of customers at the shop, told me to drag you for help crying and screaming if needed.”
“Better not make her wait then,” He replied with a similar grin, standing up as he added, “Would you like a bath as well, Princess of the pond?”
“Could I wash your hair as well this time?” Laura asked, raising the banana so that he didn’t have to bend down for her.
“As you wish, my majesty,” He bowed, picking her up by the waist and plopping her on his shoulders as he acted as her mount, her laughter fuelling his tired body till Petreius stepped out from his house.
With his daughter’s hand in his, he took in a deep breath of the afternoon air, a rarity afforded to him, the smell of the sea lingering behind as fishermen arrived with carts bustling with fresh catch. Following the path through the town that he had followed since his daughter had been born, waving to his neighbours as she dragged him through the street, he pulled on the straps of his bag to make sure the weight of his armour didn’t drag it down. He also made sure to fasten his sword to its scabbard, the leather swinging from his frayed belt, just as they passed the bakery, and the aroma of bread stopped Laura in her tracks.
Noticing it immediately, he asked a question he knew the answer to, “Let’s say we buy some bread for your mother, and somehow they give us a slice of lemon cake as well? What would we do then?”
The immense concentration that spread across his daughter’s face almost made him burst out laughing, but her answer was even better, “Don’t tell Mama so I could have more of it?”
“That’s the correct answer,” He remarked with a smile, patting her head as he handed over a silver coin to the baker, and soon they continued on their daily journey. Laura was engrossed in carefully eating the lemon cake so that no crumb could escape. He kept his portion in some parchment to share with his wife. They stopped only twice more, once for her to talk with a friend from school, helping with some homework they were given, and the other when he had to pick up his helmet from the armoursmith.
Walking under the blue sky, the sun hovering over the edge of the sea that glimmered at the very end of what his eyes could see, fixed upon the celestial power waiting for its chance to paint everything in its radiance. Petreius had seldom the chance to appreciate the sun descending, and he almost walked right past his wife’s shop, if not for his daughter’s voice breaking through his trance, “Where are we going? The shop’s behind us.”
He stopped in his tracks, turning to see a crowd of people crowding beneath a sign that he himself had put up less than a week before, ‘Pike the Ocean Master: Fish so good you could eat ‘em raw!’ The tagline was his daughter’s brilliant creation, but the amount of people waiting impatiently for his wife’s services was more important than laughing at Laura’s creativity. Grabbing his daughter and hoisting her upon his shoulders, Petreius wading through the increasingly frustrated crowd till he could reach the side door and pop up behind the counter.
The scene that awaited him could be considered horrifying, a woman with frayed black hair, with her apron covered in blood and fish guts. A white mask with splatters of red hid her face, throwing a salmon head into the guts piled on the table beside her, her eyes locking onto his. The sight of her golden eyes made him fall in love all over again, and the smile that came upon him was noticed by her, Pike snatched an apron and flung it straight into his face, “Don’t just stand there ya loaf, you can awe at me when those bastards out there calm their arses down.”
“Hey! How come Mama can use those words?” Laura asked without a hint of sarcasm in her voice, pouting as she was placed on the fake wall that divided the storage from their workstation.
As he wrapped the apron around him, Petreius handed her the rest of the cake, remarking with a spare cleaver in hand, “You can eat my share of cake if you forget what your mama said today.”
There was no reply, meaning his ploy had worked, and his focus shifted to removing the bones and filleting the more popular meat, allowing Pike to deal with the rarer catches that the day had bought. Chopping off the head of a salmon, his hands working on memory as he separated the meat and wrapped it in some paper, handing it to a customer and catching the silver coin thrown at him, a simple question slipping out his lips, “How’s your day been?”
“Better now that you’re here…” she replied, carefully portioning the carcass of a monkfish, “But I have something important to talk about with you.”
There was concern in her voice, a rare sound for the one who could make him smile without trying, so he came to the only conclusion, “Did Laura punch a boy again?”
“No I didn’t!” His daughter responded, finally looking up from devouring another slice of lemon cake.
“It's nothing to be concerned about,” His wife clarified, yet the concern in her voice refused to leave, even as the crowd shouted at them to work quicker, somewhat silenced by a quick glare at them, “Her teacher is really impressed by how she’s able to understand magic, and we already know she’s a wizard with numbers, so she thinks there’s a good chance for her to get admitted into a really prestigious school…”
“Oh…” Petreius tried to keep his voice hopeful, but he knew she always had an idea running through his head, “Is it expensive?”
“Probably, I talked with the alchemist a bit, learned that they give scholarships quite regularly, but even with what we earn right now, it’ll be a good life for us three…”
A sigh welled from within, and he understood what she was trying to hint at, “The school’s towards the capital isn’t it?”
“A couple towns inwards, near the grand old lake, but that’d mean we’d have to delay the boat again…” She spoke with a hushed tone, not wanting to alert their daughter.
He thought for a moment, calculating the expense they would have to deal with to move so far inwards, along with if Laura would even want to, even though it was the biggest chance for her to reach farther than either of them could ever hope to. A slip of his knife caused a prick in his thumb, and after the hushed curse that followed, the sudden warmth of blood shocked his frigid hand, the liquid pooling in his palm.
Stepping back to make sure the drops didn’t splash on any meat, sucking on his thumb to stop the bleed, he decided the current situation called for more focus, remarking through reddened teeth, “The warehouse is giving us lowly guards a holiday tomorrow, seems like some special delivery is happening, so how about we discuss this while we go training?”
Glancing at Pike, he could see the smile hidden beneath her mask, as she relented, “Which reminds me, take some octopus for Lucy, Gunther’s planning something special.”
“Aye, aye, captain.”
----------------------------------------
Every time Petreius walked through the halls, as the people he passed gave him a wide berth, shooting wary glances at him, he felt menial when they refused to meet his gaze. The feeling soon turned to annoyance and then eventual apathy, his eyes showing no emotion as he remembered why they did so. The newbies that walked past him acted as if his existence did not matter, all because the rumours had finally reached their ears. The ones barely older than him stared down their nose as they crossed his path, only because they had earned a promotion that was never even offered to him.
“How’s it going, uncle?” Lucy’s voice caused an involuntary chuckle, his shoulder buckling to allow her to wrap an arm around him, the clang that was produced by the strike of metal forcing a glance by everybody in the corridor
“Got this for Gunther,” He remarked, handing her his bag.
“Your bag that’s been with you before you trained me?! You shouldn’t have,” She retorted, smiling as she donned it.
The sigh came naturally, “Pike packed some octopus for you, store the bag for me please. How was the day shift?”
“Boring as always,” Lucy drawled out, popping off her helmet, hair sticking to her forehead, streaks of sweat hanging between them, suddenly snapping her fingers before she remarked, “That’s what I was forgetting, they sent us another newbie, you know what that means.”
Groaning, Petreius pinched his nose, trying to combat the oncoming headache, clicking his tongue before he inevitably had to ask, “Where’s the kid?”
“Backdoors, had some kind of panic attack, told him to stay there till he calmed down,” she remarked, ducking into the common room but not without adding, “We still on for tomorrow?”
He shook a thumbs up at her, knowing it meant something else in her hometown, and continued down the never ending hallways. They only appeared to be so, it was a circle around the main storage area with matching doors that made it impossible to tell where they led to, but a glance down the line and his breath staggered. The same hanging lights above swayed in the slight breeze that fought against him, and the bricks that made the walls felt like they would collapse upon him due to it. A pervasive thought that this might be the day it finally swallowed him forever threatened to turn his knees into mush.
However, he knew where the breeze came from, following the flow of the wind, navigating the hallways like he had done before. Petreius grabbed the handle of what was supposed to be the same door that dotted the passage behind him, and let out a sigh of relief, his muscles relaxing as he pushed forwards. He stepped beneath a shabby roof he had helped put up what seemed like ages ago, facing the lone arm of the forest that crawled from off the central continent. It was the last leg of true green, before it fell away to the coast. However, his attention was fixed on the boy standing in front of Petreius, who stared into the darkness of the trees, as if he was waiting for something to arrive.
The sky above was in the middle of falling to the will of the moon, the streaks of orange being overrun by the purple that proclaimed the night sky. The sun’s last stand was to Petreius’ right as he approached his next trainee, a chill running up his spine, walking through the dead silent clearing, trying to shake the effect of the frigid air from his fingers. However, the biting cold still continued crawling up his skin, each breath being followed by a thin mist, yet touching his chest plate confused him. The metal was warmer than the air around him, but the thought was pushed to the back of his mind, at least until he wasn’t standing in the bitter air.
The walls of his mouth started to dry, he was forced to deal with the feeling of the hairs of his arm being jostled by each movement, but the sound of the rattle of his armour elicited no effect in the kid. Even as he stepped on a branch, the crack of it beneath his boots stabbing his ears, echoing through the tiny clearing, the kid’s gaze stood fixed to something deep within the light consuming dark of the forest. He seemed frozen in time, perfectly still, with not even the rhythmic shift each breath sent through the body. His entire body was focused on something hidden between the trees, enamoured enough by the outline in the perfect shade of the leaves.
The kid seemed stripped from reality, not even shivering in the cold, but Petreius only wanted to do his job. Reaching for the kid’s shoulder, the skin on the tip of his fingers seemed to be pricked by a million needles as they curled to grab him, the only sound that came to his ears was the one of staggered breath. As he finally grasped the kid, his hand tore itself from the touch, snatching a hold of his sword’s hilt in response to the pain of being purged by an invisible flame.
In retaliation, the kid flipped on his feet, stumbling back from Petreius’ touch, the thump of his limbs on the grass joining the frantic retreat, his eyes filled with fear that only something hunted could know. It was gone in a second, but the feverish breaths that shuddered his entire body continued. As the kid met Petreius’ gaze, the brown pupil surrounded by pale white reflected total sobriety, and the kid’s breathing was calming down, but his hand refused to leave the comfort of the sword.
“Easy there, green, sudden movements like that are an easy way to lose a couple of fingers.” He instructed, his eyes flicking towards the dark of the trees, forced by his brain screaming that something was hiding within them. A hand was outstretched to maintain the distance between them, yet his arm felt like bugs were crawling through them, and that only made him want to escape the unnatural cold faster, asking as he offered the kid a hand up, “What got you in such a trance, green? Better be something real special to zone out that bad.”
It took the kid a moment to remember he had a mouth, sputtering spit through his heaving huffs, his body tensing as it realised the bleak air surrounding it, shuddering under the cold of the night, before his mouth finally formed words, “There was a pair of white eyes, or at least, they looked like them… It was nothing, sir, I just need to get a new helmet, this is too tight for me.”
He forced a scoff through his lips, his throat tight as he stared into the noiseless forest. Anyone crazy enough to traverse the unplotted forest was soon to be food for worms. If the kid was right, waiting for whatever could survive the wild was not a good idea, he said, Green, if you’re seeing things in that abyss, maybe you should consider some glasses.–”
His mouth slammed shut as his eyes caught something in the black of the trees change, but they were unable to focus upon it. Yet as Petreius looked upon the dark, trying to spot whatever was slinking within it, anxiety bubbled within him, the sweat boiling uncertainty produced clung to his garments, freezing him further. His eyes struggled to find the creature that was using the dark as its shelter, his instincts screaming that something was watching him. Suddenly, he met the thing’s gaze, but a blink from the shock allowed whatever it was to escape his sight.
“Anyway,” He muttered out, forcing himself to think of it as just his mind playing tricks, even as the hairs on his back stood on their own, his gut churning as it readied for a chase, his instincts reacting to a threat that he had no clue of. The stars were already bursting into the darkening sky above, the purple of the night making him even more restless, tapping his feet to satisfy the tick in his muscles, his instructions spurting from his lips, “You’re going to trail me till I think you can walk on your own without banging your head against every door before opening.”
“Understood, sir!” The recruit tried to salute him, and Petreius slapped his hand down before he was able to, but there was no surprise in his eyes, no caressing the hit area to soothe the pain. As if the kid knew it was coming.
“Do not call me sir, I’m not above you, and chances are we’ll never think about each other after we part ways, got it, green?” Petreius clarified, trying to stop his eyes from flicking to the blinking stars hovering above them, though he couldn’t help but notice a pattern as they pulsated their light.
“Understood, s– Understood…” The kid’s mouth stumbled again, but his ears caught a strange rhythm in the words, the same way his daughter’s voice did when she was forcing herself to speak.
“Good lad, start walking,” Petreius instructed, glancing back towards the stars, the doubt of his surroundings finally overwhelming the unbearable nature of remaining present within them. His eyes jumped between the clusters, and every time they did, the ones not being paid attention to shifted slightly from where their position was, as if they were closer than usual.
As the kid walked back to the warehouse and he followed in tow, Petrious kept his eyes locked to the ground he was treading in an attempt to not think more about the matter. However, the doubts only grew in his head, gnawing at his heart, till he finally took another glance towards the night sky. The stars blinked almost in unison as they seemed to rise with his focus, the moon peeking from the horizon, tilting with his head, and he could not help but feel like he was being observed. Some part of his mind told him that they were indeed following him, another argued that it was ridiculous that the celestial objects would concern themselves with him, neither could appease the pounding he felt in his heart.
As his mind whirled from trying to figure out what it could mean, he made a choice to believe the more realistic reality. As he felt the stars turn to adjust to his gaze once more, he decided that a better day's sleep might do him some good. “Did you see something?” The concern in the kid’s voice annoyed him, and glaring into his eyes only confirmed that the things he was experiencing wasn’t affecting the trainee.
Petreius took a deep breath, letting his mind calm down from its own imagination, his jaw tensing as his heartbeat steadied, declaring, “No.”
The kid didn’t ask any more questions as he tread behind, but Petreius was busy in trying to not let his thoughts run away from reality, and strangely the repetitive nature of the halls helped his mind calm. The walls and swaying light eased the migraine that had been piercing his brain now that it had nothing to ponder over. Eventually he pointed to the same sort of door they had passed time and time again, everything in him aligning to perform the first stop in the tour he had inadvertently become adept at. However, it had one glaring difference. Its handle was once stained with a bloody handprint, now only the rust that was caused by the wound remaining, shards of flaking metal jutting from the lever, ripped up by the hands of the many that passed through it, threatening to wound another again. As his hand went to open the door, he stared at the wood, his mind replaying the script that he had constructed, he remarked, “Which room is this?”
Stolen novel; please report.
As his eyes shifted back to the kid, his glaring visage caused his trainee’s tongue to fail to form the proper words. His eyes darted between right and left as he scrambled to remember, his sweat almost dripping from his brow. He let the kid stew for a while before Petreius finally got sick of the stuttering, the constant presence of bumbling idiots in the world reassuring him, “Green, if you can’t even remember the locker room, you’re going to have a hard time in here.”
The trainee’s face turned red, but before he could make excuses for his shit memory, he was quickly instructed, “Get in there, store your helmet, maybe drink some water, I won’t be so kind to help you next time so you better remember what I tell you.”
Petreius opened the door for him, the kid stuttering out a thanks before the door was slammed shut. He pulled on the door to ensure its closure, and he leant his head on it to think of the path they had to follow. He couldn’t help but curse the day he had accepted this dead end job, pushing himself up to his feet as he turned to face the wall, and his mind blanked as another door met his gaze. It was identical to the one behind him, down to the rust on the handle, but he was struggling to remember if it had been there before. His breathing faltered as his ears went silent, the breeze dying as he realised that it was hovering apart from the door, but what worried him the most was that there was a sliver of light leaking from its edges.
Feeling for the door behind him, his hand touched bare brick, and his heart almost gave away. Flipping on his heels confirmed what he had felt. Up and down both corridors awaited the sight of a never-ending hallway, the bricks fading into a grey haze, and yet not a single door other than the one that stood behind him could be seen.
There could be nothing good that could be past the lone door, and there was no part of his mind that wished to open it, the mere sight causing the hair on his arms to stand again. Petreius chose to walk down the hallway, trying to keep his mind calm, telling it there had to be another path, sweat sticking to the soles of his feet as he kept moving forward. Minutes passed, but step after step did not seem to bring an end of the corridor in sight, stretching ever so slightly as his footsteps rang against his ears. His breath grew heavier as his doubts bled into his body, minutes of no progress had made him grow uneasy. His hands traced the walls beside him to ensure they were solid, his eyes strained till they felt dry as sand, still hoping to spot an exit. As the whirling thoughts in his mind got too painful to ignore, a dull thud banging on the confines of his skull, the doubts won, and he turned to face the path not taken.
The door dropped ahead of his gaze as he did, appearing from thin air, hanging silently from the ceiling above with its handle was already turned, the sliver of light now casting a glow upon the flanking walls. He could sense what it thought of him, a low breeze making the hinges groan, and his ears could hear its laugh, as if it predicted his defeat. Petreius swallowed the spit in his mouth to coat his drought stricken throat, and yet taking a deep breath only made it worse, squeezing one hand up to get rid of the tremors, using it to unsheathe his blade. His other lay flat onto the wood, and it still refused to stop shivering, until he finally pushed through.
The locker room looked almost normal, the bags of his associates hung under their name plates, a couple of benches to sit upon and another door to the showering room, just like when he had seen the kid through the door mere minutes ago. However, his eyes were focused upon the trainee, standing frozen once again, dead in the centre of the room, still donning his helmet. The stillness felt different than in the presence of the forest, not because the kid was acting stranger than before, but because Petreius could finally see it happening in proper lighting. The room’s edges were hazy, not just the chamber’s, but everything in his sight, his stomach getting queasy as his gaze darted between everything that made him worry. The shadows from the lights above were somehow darker than they should be, almost as if they had been cast twice by the illuminance, the same way whenever he shifted his focus to something else, mirages of the last sight lingered in his gaze.
Yet, as he returned his attention to the kid, his mind screamed at him to embed his blade in its back before it turned, even his gut agreeing that the person in front of him wasn’t one. His arms raised his sword, aiming it at the kid’s back, his muscles telling him to thrust, but his heart wanted confirmation, palms sweaty as he held himself back, “Hey green, are you feeling alright?”
There was no response, not even a change in the way his chest moved as he barely breathed. As Petreius crawled nearer, barely being able to ignore the swirling thoughts, his ears picked up something, a low, deep hum that steadily battered against his ears, coming from the surrounding shadows, but the beat of his heart soon silenced it, and he tried again, “Kid, I’m going to need you to turn around for me, now.”
There was a twitch that shuddered through his tutee’s entire body, the armour clattering as it did, but there was no answer. So Petreius readied his blade, his arm reaching for the kid’s shoulder, trembling as he readied himself to strike. As soon as his fingers touched the kid, something soft grazed them, cold as ice, the hand snapping back as the kid started to convulse violently, the hum growing to a deafening whine that refused to descend. The noise made his brain shrink, his sword rattling in his hands, Petreius trying to cover his ears to stop whatever it was trying to do, when suddenly it all stopped, absolute silence coming upon the room. Before his eyes had the chance to be pulled by the darkness of the room dashing towards him, his arm jerked, slashing through the kid’s neck.
As his sword cleaved the kid’s neck, blood did not spurt out from the wound, mist bellowing up from the stump, the helmet falling weightlessly onto the ground. Yet the clank that followed the kid’s armour collapsing into a heap afterwards felt like a banshee screaming directly into his ears. He winced, trying to get away from whatever had caused the kid to melt, and his entire body refused to listen to him. Petreius struggled as he felt something breathing upon his neck, his will failing to move his muscles, his nerves buzzing with energy but unable to utilise it, and a blade traced his neck, frigid tendrils crawling where it touched.
“They’ll never believe you,” A mocking voice breathed into his ear, words that came thicker than slime, infecting his mind like a million worms.
He felt his body escape the voice’s grasp, the tendrils of nothingness retreating, and there was nothing his mind could think of other than to swing his sword back at whoever had restrained him. A scream followed, and Petreius’ blade was stuck in the wood of the door he had entered through, now opened by his tutee. As the adrenaline ebbed from his mind, the kid peeked from the edge of his blade, the question he spoke stunning him more than what had happened, “Sir, are you alright? You wandered off without me.”
Slowly, he started to recognise his surroundings, his mind struggling to remember how he had stumbled into the service closet. He tried to find evidence of the room he had been in before, only to find himself being boxed in by walls and cleaning supplies, even the fallen armour having dissipated into the floor below. Petreius’ heart didn’t stop its rampage in his chest, the doubts about reality crushing against each, trying to figure out what just had happened. It scared him that the part of it which suggested it was just his imagination was the most concerning.
“Did you spot anyone in the hallways while you were looking for me?” He questioned, the tone of his voice forcing the kid to follow behind, as he paced through the hallways, and thankfully he could see when the corridor turned a corner this time.
It took him a second to recall his search for Petreius, but the kid replied soon enough, not an ounce of deception in his voice, “I don’t believe so, though I did walk by the break room, most of them are sitting in there and chatting, and they also just laughed when I asked if they had seen you.”
“We’ll loop back to them,” Petreius remarked, the doubts about himself gnawing his mind, and they forced him to at least try to look for the monster that had threatened him before he turned against himself, adding to his instructions, “Keep an eye on the shadows and edges of the room. If you see something different about your surroundings, report it to me and me alone, and immediately.”
He heard the kid open his mouth, maybe to protest what they were doing, but he could tell they quickly snapped shut because of pity. Knowing that the truth would only make him worry about the psyche of the man who was supposed to be his guiding hand. So, as he followed Petreius alone through an unfamiliar building, the latter kept his suspicions to himself, forced to take a step after another, his mind peeled for the sensation that the fake locker room possessed.
“Would it not be better if you were to sit down for a moment?” The kid suggested five minutes on their journey, finally realising his own spine, but the condensation in his voice caused him to turn around, and his glare alone put an end to the conversation.
They scoured the entire building, not even the breeze giving them company as they walked in complete silence, ducking into every room, checking every post, and shining a flame at every shadow to see if it would retreat. Other than the fact that everyone had spontaneously decided to slack off, nothing stood out, it was the same building he knew every nook and cranny of, and that worried him. Everything seemed absolutely perfect, like it had been cleansed from all grime and dirt that had built up from before he had been employed there. He was keeping his breathing under control, but as soon as he had realised that not one single person other than the two were travelling the halls, his heart hammered away like an army drum.
Yet, Petreius hung on to hope that everything was fine, rubbing his fingers to keep his nerves in check, as they were finally about to come back across the break room. His mind was busy in trying to think of what else the empty halls could signify, a twitch running up his neck as his teeth ground against each other, failing to find some semblance of control over himself. Turning into the room, the door slammed against the wall beside it, and his mouth parted to let a sigh escape. For the first time in his life, he was glad to see a room filled with the worst people he knew, chatting with each other like there was no worry in the world.
The sight finally brought peace to a part of his mind, but the rest yearned for confirmation that all was what it appeared, to keep the slimy words of that monster from returning, and he announced into the room, “Is everybody alright?”
He didn’t listen to the jabs at him or his family, his ears waiting for the low deep hum of the shadows to return, for the haze to rise above the surfaces, for the shadows to rush towards him, to hunt the prey that had escaped. When nothing happened, his breathing staggered, Petreius’ mind focused on what else could signal the monster’s presence. His eyes were peeled for one of them to move mechanically, to be puppeted by unseen wires, but they spotted nothing out of the ordinary, and finally a sense of calm rushed over him. Thoughts rushed in his head to explain the rest, concluding that whatever he had thought to have happened was a hallucination brought upon due to exhaustion. Yet as his heart finally calmed to a steady beat, and the sweat he wiped from his brow wasn’t replaced with more, his instincts refused to let go of the doubts, it would not allow them to be forgotten.
Closing the door behind him, Petreius only managed a restrained smile to the kid, his mind still whirling with questions. He took only a few steps before the uncertainty about what he had perceived infected his skull with doubts stronger than before, and the longer he walked, the harder it was to breathe without a shudder running up his spine. He needed to be sure, completely sure, no space for doubt, and there could be no other way to crush the words of the monster except to retrace his steps.
So he began again, the kid following close behind, no words of resistance coming from him, scouring the hallways of the warehouse a second time, checking every cranny he remembered. Once more, there was nothing out of the ordinary, and none of the others at their supposed posts, and his heart refused to view that as a good thing. Petreius knew there was nothing left to see that would appease his mind, but as he neared the entrance of the break room, having come full circle, the hairs on his arms stood in attention.
As Petreius put his hand upon the door, he caught a confused expression spreading over the kid’s face from the corner of his sight, but he could swear that the wood was absolutely frigid. The want to ensure all was right was struggling against the want to live in a more oblivious reality, maybe he did not need to know, but his mind had been made long before.
Pushing the barrier open, he looked upon the empty chairs and table, none of his acquaintances in sight, and instead of horror, a sense of relief washed upon him. Now he knew for a fact, there was something rancid about this night, his breath settling as the realisation took hold. The kid snapped his fingers, the sound forcing Petreius back from the reassurance of his own mind, allowing him to hear the words that plunged his heart in ice, “Why have we returned here when everyone is already at their posts? Have you finally decided to take a break?”
His mouth felt dry, his head turning to glare at his tutee, trying to keep his voice steady, his mind trying to maintain civility, “What do you mean by that?”
“It was empty when we left, like five minutes or sometime ago, so I thought we were continuing on with the tour… We could have a rest before we continue on, my feet are starting to hurt,” The kid had to be lying, there was no way he hadn’t seen the bustling room mere moments ago, and the apathy that reached Petreius’ ears only caused the frustration to bubble over.
“The fuck are you talking about!? It was packed the last time we were here!” He failed to keep control over his tongue, spittle flying from his lips along with the rage, his lungs full of disbelief, his warm breath fighting against the freezing air of the room.
The kid took a step back, retreating from his intensity, his hand dropping to the shining new sword attached to his hip. The blade was unclasped from its sheath in a single movement, the other hand keeping Petreius at bay, as if he was the one behaving irrationally, the kid’s voice sterner than a normal newbie’s, “Sir, there is no need to get angry at me. If you believe wholeheartedly that something is amiss, it won’t hurt to take a proper look.”
Tensing his jaw did little, his heart feasting on his frustration, battering his lungs, but as he worked to breathe deeper and deeper, it was enough. There was no doubt in his mind that he could prove the kid wrong. Petreius said nothing, simply walking through the door and into the break room, rubbing his fingers to keep them warm as the cold crawled under his skin.
The sight of the empty room was in itself not unsettling, the visage of the empty chairs was normal for one who left late, yet it felt surreal as he stepped into the centre of the room. His eyes could see the scattered seats, and his instincts warned him that they had not been left wilfully. Petreius tried to expand his senses, to spot the harbingers of the monster’s presence, his skin vouched for the frigid air, but there were more that could be uncovered to prove it.
The room was silent, perfectly so, the beatings of his own heart loud enough to hear, but there was a pressure building in his ears, squeezing his ear drums, trying to make him think that nothing was reaching his ears. The sensation made it feel like his brain was trapped in a glass jar. It threatened to turn into mush whenever he chose to flick his gaze towards the tendrils of darkness crawling into this realm from the edges of the room., slamming into the walls of his skull. Suddenly, the air grew heavy, dust drifting from the ceiling, his eyes having to peer through haze as they worked to spot the monster as it left. The scent of burning air crawled up his nose, and the sense of fear seemed to whirl around him, bringing with them the whispers. Muffled screams did not reach his ears, infecting Petreius’ mind within, sweat plastering his clothes to his skin, and his armour seemed to grow ever heavier as the seconds ticked on.
However, the monster did not come, a blink allowed everything that screamed its arrival to escape, his senses seemingly snapping back to reality, and his breathing was the only thing that was unsettled. To no avail did he spot anything in reality that matched what his mind had perceived mere seconds ago, and it was frustrating. Anger bubbled up his stomach, which curdled in response, a scream stuck in his throat, urging him to let it free.
“Are you feeling alright, Petreius?” The kid’s voice was different, the scared and respectful tone switched to one of genuine concern. The words made his mind tick, and he soon realised the monster had another constant harbinger. There was a surge of energy into his body, his instincts working on their own, swinging his entire body around to rest the point of his sword at the kid’s neck.
“Ah,” A white smile came upon his face, raising his hands while connecting his thumbs to perform a snap, not even trying to hide his association with the monster, “A mistake…”
The snap that came almost deafened Petreius, wincing as the sound bore holes in his eardrums, but he was able to withstand the tsunami of darkness that exploded from the man. Inky tentacles slithered through the air past him till they smothered every inch of the room, and yet, his blade still lay on the man’s neck, unimpeded by anything, still laying on bare skin. As he glanced around, keeping one eye on the man, his tired mind could only think they had been pulled into another dimension. The darkness that painted the walls felt alive, bulging inwards, daggers trying to push through the murky fluid, but Petreius’ mind was unfocused on the sights as the screams came back.
The sound of struggle drowned everything else that even hoped to reach him, sacs of darkness sagging from the ceiling as they swayed above the empty seats all around him. The heavy thuds that came from within, fists banging against the prison of darkness, the prisons convulsing at their efforts, shuddering as they slowly became smaller and smaller, suffocating them slowly. Drips of umbra leaked from the ceiling, running down the thin strings that tethered the sacs, some strays landing on his sword, shifting its weight in his hands. It told him that at least it was real. The air was frigid, but the ground felt warm, yet the smile that was etched onto the monster’s face was what unsettled him the most.
His entire face was shrouded with a darkness that could stain the soul of a person, only a crescent of white teeth breaking the shadows, but yet he could feel the man’s eyes observing him. It felt like pin pricks stabbing into his soul, and the words that escaped the teeth felt like an ice gripping his heart, “Be careful with that, letting Laura grow without a father is not what I wish for.”
No longer able to keep the fear at bay, his mind faltered, his instincts reacting to the threat, and as the blade embedded itself into the monster’s neck, Petreius could do nothing but stare at crimson blood pouring down his white shirt. Yet the look on the man’s face made every muscle in his body freeze. It was not of anger, but a sense of interest, no concern about being fatally wounded. As he fell to the welcoming ground, his words gave Petreius’ mind no peace, “Interesting.”
The man landed on his face, his body covered with his cloak that seemed to be imbued with the darkness of the night, and the shadows that had enveloped the room were yanked into his shadow. Sickening thumps echoing in the room as the cocoons released their captives, who lifelessly lay on the floor after their fall.
True silence took hold of the room, and his mind was failing to comprehend what had happened, his eyes locked to the body of the monster he had so effortlessly killed. He did not know how much time had passed, his body frozen in the presence of the carnage the man had caused, but from the corner of his sight, he saw someone enter the room.
He could not think, so his sword pointed towards whoever had entered, and the cold grip around his heart weakened. “Petreius?” Lucy’s voice stirred some hope within his heart, and the sight of her horrified face crushed it immediately. Fresh blood dripped from his sword, and bodies lay strewn about his feet, and the whole ordeal had left his eyes bloody and manic, sweat dripping from his chin.
“It’s not what it looks lik–”
Lucy took a step back, her hand darting back to her sword, the terror in her eyes piercing him, “What have you d–”
Petreius had tried to let go of his sword, hoping that she would believe him, stepping forward only to find his body refusing his orders. Tendrils of darkness shot from beneath Lucy, crawling over her armour, not even a scream allowed to escape as the shadows muffled her in a blink of his eyes. The monster rose with the aid of similar inky appendages, his grin unfaltering as he locked eyes with Petreius, who was reduced to shiver as he felt vines climbing up his leg, freezing his body as they wrapped around his limbs, smothering his skin.
“It’s exactly what it looks like…” Standing to his feet, the monster raised a hand and beckoned Petreius, straining against the pull exerted by him, the only presence of his resistance the groans that echoed through the room as he failed.
Holding his hand out towards him, the monster waited till the blade that was smeared with his own blood was presented by Petreius’ unwilling hands, picking the weapon up as if it was a toy. The only remainder of the wound inflicted upon him was the red on his shirt, the scar on his neck almost imperceptible to the skin around it, as if it was a remnant of an encounter decades ago. Running a finger through the crimson liquid, the monster tasted his own blood, muttering to himself as he matched Petreius’ gaze, “Need more iron…”
“What do you want from me!?” Petreius spurted out, his throat using the last of its strength to confront the monster, his imagination unable to stop coming up with ways the situation might worsen, and the tug at the corners of his captor’s grin did nothing to appease his mind.
“Choose,” the man spoke plainly, his cloak parting to allow his and Lucy’s glare to meet, and he did not need him to explain further.
His friend tried to protest, but his mind saw a chance to escape, to clear his name. A part of him wanted to be selfish, to hold Laura in his arms, but the other knew he would never be able to look into his daughter’s innocent eyes ever again. For the first time since the night began, his muscles relaxed completely, and there was no resistance left in his heart, “I choose myself.”
The monster raised his sword, a look of annoyance spreading across his face as he sighed, and Petreius waited for his breath to matter no more. No pain came, no exit from this plane of life, instead a hand grabbing his face, and his eyes snapped open to see the monster’s eyes gazing into his. He was silenced with a gag, tendrils worming into his throat as the man remarked, “I thought more of you, Peter, but you won’t escape me so easily, coward.”
Sinking into his own shadow, struggling aimlessly against the dense liquid, his body still dominated by the darkness, the only thing that reached his ears through the enveloping ink was his own heart racing. Petreius' could do nothing but observe, eyes reflecting the monster raising his sword, standing above his dear friend, to bring down upon Lucy his fate, before the light was cut from reaching him. He could only feel what was happening, his sight and hearing robbed of him, as he was dragged by the surrounding umbra. It felt like he was at the bottom of the bay, except the fluid radiated a fierce heat, his head battered by the black ocean he found himself in. Breathing only led to pain, his mind trying to think of an escape, but it could only envision the despair in Pike and his daughter when he did not return that day. Petreius wished he had hugged his daughter longer that day, and that thought was his last before he crossed over to oblivion.