A rickety wooden door creaked open, revealing a slice of gray sky. Cassian peeked out and sniffed the air, his nose crinkling at the scent of decay drifting on the wind. It was an offensive, pervasive smell. The kind of smell that a nose never quite blinded itself to. The acidic scent clawed at his nostrils and the back of his throat, threatening to make him retch.

Cassian frowned, It was only the normal smell of Blackwater.

He sighed and turned back to the dimly lit room where Alaric was stirring the coals of their fire, spraying a bit of sparks as he added a fresh log. Usually Al would be in bed by now, rereading one of the few books they had - dog-eared paperbacks with cracked spines and yellowed pages. The younger boy had read them each a hundred times, though Cas wasn't sure who taught him to read. Wasn't him, Cas didn't know how to. When asked, Al had claimed a book taught him to read, and Cas didn't feel like taking the time to explain to the other boy how that was impossible.

Cassian watched Al mindlessly pick up another log for the fire. "Planning on keeping that going all night?" he asked.

"No, I-" Al balked, looked down at the log in his hand, confused to how it got there. He promptly placed it back in its stack.

Cassian wanted to scold him. That was most of the wood they had for the week, and it was always harder to get supplies out of the people of Blackwater after a night like tonight. But he knew Al didn't mean to. Didn't realize what he was doing or why.

"I can go gather some more." the boy offered.

"We don't go out at night," Cas said slowly, his eyes locked onto Al's. "You know that."

Alaric gave him a knowing look. "You do. I've seen you." His words were tinged with accusation.

Cassian hated arguing with Alaric, the other boy usually had the advantage of being right. Didn't make for fair arguing in his opinion. "Go get to sleep. I'll watch the fire."

"You can't just-" Al started and Cas stared. The older boy won out. With a huff, Alaric stormed off to his room, slamming the door shut behind him and causing half the house to rattle.

It was out of character for the younger boy to act out like that, but even he could sense something was off. Last few days everyone, Cas included, were acting skittish and Al couldn't come up with any good reason as to why. He lacked that gut instinct of paranoia and suspicion that came naturally to Cas.

For his part, Cas wasn't sure if what he was about to do would help, hurt, or had any effect at all, but the pit of his stomach told him either he or Al would be dead if he didn't do this, so that was that.

After an agonizing half hour of eavesdropping on the bedroom door until he heard Al's light snoring, Cas finally stepped outside. He had mastered the art of opening the front door, pulling it slowly and in just the right angle so it didn't creek too loud.

Outside, a thick fog hung low over Blackwater, muffling sound and limiting visibility to no more than a few feet. Cassian shivered as the chill evening air bit through his threadbare clothes. He pulled his collar tighter, trying to protect himself from the biting cold. With his collar pulled up to his nose, he hurried down the narrow alley between decaying buildings, their warped wood soaked black from endless rains.

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His heart pounded as he walked, a cadence of fear and determination. He took a deep breath of the fetid air and steeled himself. The stench was getting worse. Time was running out.

He scurried through the twisting alleys, legs burning from the exertion and nose burning from the stench. Cassian's eyes darted about warily as he stuck to the shadows, making his way to the docks.

When he got there, the stench was the strongest he'd ever smelled it. He could hardly breath, struggled to think. He hadn't eaten anything all day out of nerves, so now all he could do was retch with nothing to show for it but teary eyes and short breath.

Hardly able to see or breath, Cas crept down the rotting pier, the wood creaking under his weight. The lapping of waves against the shore was deafening in the eerie quiet. His eyes scanned the dark water. Nothing yet.

He crouched down, peering under the dock in search of his gruesome prize. A flash of silver caught his eye. There, lodged between where the sand met the wood, was the corpse of a large fish, belly bloated and eyes clouded with thick black veins running throughout.

Cassian grimaced as he reached for it, the cold slimy skin sliding under his fingers. With a hard yank, the body came free. Dark blood and viscera oozed from its underside, dripping down his hands. He retched again, and wish he'd eaten, just so his body would have something to throw up and he could breath again.

Clutching his disgusting bundle, Cassian hurried back through the alleys towards home. He knew he'd run out of time minutes ago, but was determined to see things through anyways.

Heart pounding, he pulled out his gutting knife. With a few slices, the fish's belly split open. Cassian smeared the entrails across the door frame. It was a gruesome ritual, but one Cassian hoped would mask their scent. He said a silent prayer to any god or devils listening that it would be enough.

With his grim task complete, relief flooded through Cassian’s body, his knees nearly buckling.

Then he felt it.

Cassian's breath caught in his throat as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. The fetid stench of the fish guts faded into the background as a deeper, primal fear took hold. He felt the presence before he saw it - a grotesque creature violent power that resonated in his very bones.

Slowly, carefully, Cassian turned, eyes scanning the dim alleyway behind him. At first he saw nothing but shadows. Then, between one blink and the next, it appeared. A writhing, shimmering tentacle, phasing in and out of reality. Barbed hooks and spines ran along its translucent length as it swayed gently back and forth. Testing the air. Searching.

Cassian's heart stuttered in his chest. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to run, but he stood paralyzed.

The tentacle drifted closer, disturbingly graceful in its movements. Cassian struggled to slow his panicked breathing, willing his hammering heart to stillness. He watched with mounting dread as the appendage hovered before him, close enough to touch. It twitched and flexed, disturbingly wrong on a primal, instinctual level.

He braced himself, terrified of what death would feel like, but sure he was about to find out. But the tentacle stilled. It hovered a moment longer, then began undulating. Cassian stared wide-eyed as it seemed to sniff around his head and shoulders. He trembled uncontrollably. After an eternity, the tentacle drifted down towards the bundle still clutched in Cassian's hands. It hovered over the fish corpse, then slowly retracted. Another blink, and it was gone.

Numb, Cassian crumpled onto the cold, unforgiving cobblestone, hardly feeling it.

His desperate ploy had worked. He'd been right, the rotting fish guts smeared around their door masked the scent of him and Al. A weight he'd been born under lifted off his shoulders. He didn't have to worry anymore. As long as he was careful, as long as he stuck to the plan, they'd never be taken.

"Cas, was that you? Where'd you go?" Al called from inside the house. Cas wanted to yell at him to shut up, to grab him by the throat and squeeze until the other boy could never say another word again. But he couldn't remember how to move his body, how to make sounds.

Al pried the door open and it let out an ominous creak. He looked down to see Cas, pale and shivering, covered in fish guts. Their eyes met, and Al had never seen such terror.

"What happened?"

After what felt like an eternity, Cas finally remember how to breathe, finally got enough of himself back to say something.

He blinked and, "-

Both of the boys were looking at the thing wrapped around Al's chest. Al looked up to Cas, more confused than anything else. Then the thing yanked him.