Chapter 2: The Dark

Cal lay motionless on the cold, wet ground, every nerve in his body on edge. His hands trembled as his eyes strained to pierce the suffocating darkness. It was as though his eyes were closed, but he knew they were wide open. The dark had always terrified him, a fear he had never managed to outgrow. The absence of light brought helplessness, a vulnerability that gnawed at him. Childhood stories of monsters lurking in the shadows only fed his anxiety, but now, as an adult, he knew he had to face this fear head-on.

Taking a shaky breath, Cal forced himself to roll over and sit up. That’s when he noticed something horrifying—his clothes were gone. The realization sent a shiver down his spine, goosebumps prickling his bare skin as the cold stone pressed against him.

Cold stone? Where the hell am I? A cave? No, that can’t be right. I must’ve passed out or something. This has to be a dream, right? But what if it’s not? Is this how dreams work? I need to be careful, just in case. Maybe I hit my head, lost my memory, and ended up in this cave somehow.

He rubbed his head, fingers probing his scalp for any sign of injury, but found nothing—no bumps, no bruises. He tried to look around, but the blackness was absolute. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, feeling the cold ground beneath him. He raised his hands above his head, searching for a ceiling, but felt only empty air. He almost took a step, but instinct held him back.

What if there’s a drop-off, a cliff, or water that I can’t see? I should stay put—that’s the first rule of being lost, right? But does that apply to caves?

The silence pressed in on him, and Cal couldn’t take it anymore. He took a deep breath and called out into the void.

“Hello? Anyone there? Can anyone hear me? I’m lost! It’s dark! I NEED HELP, CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?”

His voice echoed back, the sound of his own desperation bouncing off unseen walls. The echoes only amplified his fear, feeding the panic that threatened to overwhelm him.

“HEY, HELP ME! I’M LOST! I’M STUCK! HELP!”

The darkness swallowed his words, leaving him alone with the sound of his own panicked breathing. Each breath seemed louder, harsher, as if the air itself conspired to suffocate him. He tried to calm himself, but the fear was relentless, gnawing at the edges of his sanity. Cal forced himself to stop. Taking a deep breath, he tried to push all the fear and panic out of his mind.

Flipping out won’t help me. Okay, I’m alone in a cave, naked. That’s all I know... Chosen... that’s what the voice said. She chose me. For what? What does that even mean? Have I lost my mind? Was that a mental break? Would I even know if I was crazy? It doesn’t matter. For now, I have to treat this as if it’s real. No other option.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Cal crouched down and spread his hands across the ground. The stone was irregular, jagged, and slightly sloped.

“Okay, here’s a start,” he muttered.

He turned and carefully began to follow the incline, moving slowly and deliberately up the small hill inside the dark enclosure. After about 30 seconds of tracing the ground, Cal felt the cold stone face of a wall. He pressed himself against it and ran his hands along its surface.

If I can find the entrance to a tunnel or something, then at the very least, I could have a way forward.

Cal followed the wall. After a few steps, the jagged rock grew smoother. Then, his foot bumped into a patch of rock on the ground. Feeling around with his foot, Cal gasped in excitement.

"Stairs! Stairs mean people. Yes, perfect!" Cal sighed in relief.

With a huge smile on his face, Cal searched for the next stair and found it. Gleefully, he began to ascend. After the tenth step, Cal knocked into something at the top. It was stone and oddly shaped. Running his hands over it, he felt grooves and ridges—it almost felt like a big stone hand. Something was hanging from it. Cal followed the stone-carved chain links down from the gripped hand to where they attached to something large and flat with a slight dip in its center—a platter, basin, or plate.

Feeling the carving filled him with both curiosity and despair. The stairs didn’t lead to a door or back to the surface but to this... statue of sorts. Cal reached into the stone plate and touched something wet. The liquid inside didn’t feel like water; it was more viscous, like syrup or gravy.

Cal reached back up for the hand and followed the arm of the carving until he felt the wall of the cave again. As he explored further, he discovered another arm with an open hand at the end, palm up, holding a small, smooth sphere.

What are you?

Cal picked up the sphere and rolled it in his hand. It seemed to be covered in a thin layer of something crusty. Scratching at it with his fingernails, he scraped off some of the gunk. Underneath, the sphere had ridged lines, like writing. With his hands still wet from the liquid in the plate, he rubbed more of the gunk off. Cal dipped his hand back into the liquid and used it to clean off the rest of the sphere. He then sat down, turning it in his hands, feeling the markings on it.

The lines on the sphere were thin and ran parallel to each other, with small offshoots at seemingly random intervals, resembling tree branches, rivers, or veins. The sphere was heavy, weighing about fifteen pounds and roughly the size of a baseball.

As the liquid on his hands soaked into the markings, the sphere throbbed in Cal’s grasp. Startled, he almost dropped it, but barely managed to hold on as it buzzed again.

"What the...?"

Is it reacting to the liquid? Why the hell is it moving? This isn’t normal ball behavior at all. Maybe I should...

Cal stood up and made his way over to the platter holding the thick fluid. Slowly, he dipped the sphere into the liquid. Immediately, the ball began to shake. Cal tightened his grip and used his other hand to splash the fluid over it, covering it completely. For the first time in hours, light appeared in Cal’s vision. The markings on the sphere started to glow with a faint red light—not enough to illuminate the whole room or even his hands, but just bright enough to reveal the color of the liquid he was rubbing onto it. A deep crimson red. It was blood.

Cal gagged and immediately let go of the sphere. The blood that coated it was a deep, heart-like red, and it was all over him—his hands, his body. He couldn’t see it, but just knowing was enough. He stumbled backward, his foot slipping off the platform. He tried to plant it on the stairs but missed, slamming his toes into the steps. Falling backward, Cal raised his arms over his head to protect himself, inadvertently wiping and dripping blood over his face and into his hair. As he tumbled down the stairs, the blood mixed with his own as his body was scraped and torn by the hard, jagged ground.

Grunting and slightly growling, Cal forced himself onto his hands and knees. Cuts of all sizes decorated his body. While he couldn't see the damage, it didn't feel urgent. The blood in his hair slid down his forehead and into his mouth. Gagging on the coppery taste, he vomited onto the ground in front of him. His eyes stung and began to water. Cal slammed his fist onto the floor and screamed out at the darkness, his voice tearing from his throat like it was on fire.

"WHERE THE FUCK AM I? WHERE AM I? WHY ME? IT'S NOT FUCKING FAIR! BLOOD—BLOOD! WHAT IS THIS, HUH? GOD? ARE YOU LISTENING? LADY, IF YOU FUCKING CHOSE ME FOR THIS, THEN FUCK YOU! I WANT TO GO HOME... I want to go home... I... want... home..."

Tears ran down Cal's face, mixing with the blood. His voice echoed, and when the echo died, he was once again left completely, utterly alone.