“Ah… love.”

The word lingered in the dark like smoke.

A shadow shifted within the room, barely visible except for the slow movement of a figure reclining in a chair. The only light came from a narrow window overlooking the city, Ravenport stretching endlessly below — alive, glowing, indifferent.

“Something so many people receive,” he continued softly, “and yet discard like it’s worthless.”

A quiet laugh escaped him. Not amused — hollow.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, fingers interlaced.

“I crave it,” he whispered. “Desperately.”

His eyes closed for a moment, as if picturing someone’s face.

“Such beautiful eyes…” Another breathy laugh. “Haha.”

The sound died quickly.

Silence filled the room again — thick, heavy, familiar.

“The world is so big,” he murmured, rising slowly from his seat, “and yet I am alone.”

He walked toward the window. The city reflected faintly in the glass — fractured, distant, unreachable. From up here , people were just moving dots. Lives. Desires. Weaknesses.

All so close.
All so far.

“I crave something…”

He paused.

The room seemed to hold its breath with him. His gaze dropped — to the table beside the window, where a dagger lay untouched. Steel caught the city’s light, a thin spark dancing along its edge.

His lips curved upward.

“Ah.”

The loneliness twisted into clarity.

“If I cannot be given what I deserve,” he said quietly, “then I will take control of this city.”

His fingers brushed the dagger, not gripping it — just acknowledging its presence.

“And from it,” he continued, voice steady now, “I will take the love I am owed.”

He laughed again.

This time, it echoed — bouncing off the walls, folding back into itself, filling the room until it sounded less like amusement and more like a promise.


It was night, Ravenport City drenched in one of its loveliest rains — at least for those who adored a rainy night. Streetlights glimmered on wet asphalt, reflecting the endless drizzle like molten gold. The soft patter of raindrops against the windows mixed with the occasional distant honk of a lonely car. Shadows stretched and twisted across the slick streets, hiding secrets Amanda didn’t want to uncover — yet somehow, always noticed.

Amanda sat in the sitting room, curled on the couch, the dim glow of the TV painting soft rectangles of light across her face. Midnight had arrived, and the city outside whispered through the rain — quiet, patient, indifferent. She wasn’t enjoying the night. Not at all. She was miserable, desperate.

Her laptop glowed in her lap, a portal to Jobless, a website she had scoured endlessly. She’d tried every job site she could think of, applied to countless positions — nothing. The posts that might have caught her eye either required experience she didn’t have or simply ignored her.

*Ugh… I can’t even find a single job. I went to the best college, and I can’t get a job.*

Her inner scream echoed softly in the empty room. In the background, the TV murmured its monotonous news cycle — RVP News, the city’s lifeblood of updates, flickering across the screen like a restless ghost.

She scrolled through social media, drowning in the curated pleasures of the internet. Bright posts, screaming headlines, and the endless parade of perfection and desire filled the screen.

*I feel like I can never get a job…*

Her eyes caught a post — a photo, a message, a story — she didn’t know what exactly, but it struck a nerve deep inside.

*It’s a pandemic — it’s as if the entire world agreed the best job for a female is to sell their bodies. What bullshit is this.*

The rain drummed harder on the window, tapping out a rhythm that matched her growing agitation. She scrolled deeper, curiosity and dread mingling, diving into corners of the internet where the shadows of society crept unchecked.

Meanwhile, the TV’s broadcast drifted into the room, darker than before. The anchor’s calm voice carried an unsettling edge.

"Authorities have confirmed the discovery of three bodies in Silion Park this afternoon. The victims, all young, were found partially buried, with no signs of immediate identification. Police warn that these murders are likely linked, urging residents to exercise caution after dusk. Silion Park will remain under investigation as the city grapples with the grim reality of this crime."

Amanda froze for a moment, the words sinking in like stones dropped in her chest. She looked at the screen, but her attention quickly drifted back to the glowing phone in her hands.

*Even twelve-year-old girls have been brainwashed into this nightmare — pushed into porn, exposed to everything too soon…*

She flung her phone across the couch, letting it land with a soft thud. Her chest heaved as she exhaled, trying to shake the heaviness settling into her bones. She leaned back, the couch swallowing her, rain tapping against the glass, TV murmuring ominously in the background.

Slowly, fatigue took over. Her eyes grew heavy, the glow of the city outside and the fractured light from the TV blurring together. She let herself relax, sinking deeper into the couch, into the darkness, into sleep.

Zeke’s room was a chaos that mirrored his mind. Clothes and papers were scattered across the floor, books lay open with pages curling as if they were breathing, and half-drunk bottles of wine glimmered in the faint light of a single overhead bulb. A corkboard on the wall was cluttered with pictures and scribbles, threads connecting faces and notes in a way that made sense only to him. One corner of the board showed a drawing of a childlike black monster, lines dark and jagged, eyes hollow — he crossed it out with a sharp swipe of his marker.

Scripts lay splayed across the desk, their pages filled with meticulously calculated dialogue, notes in the margins about timing and human reaction. Knives rested beside the books, their steel catching the dim glow, polished yet menacing.

“Do you know what the difference between planners and strategists is?” Zeke said aloud, almost conversationally, as he stuffed a duffel bag with bottles of wine, knives, and other tools.

*No,* he answered himself.

“A planner is a man content to count his coins before the fire consumes the world. He draws lines, charts paths, imagines contingencies,” he said, standing and zipping the bag, eyes drifting to the board as he crossed out another scribble.

*Tell me, what about the strategist? How is it different from the planner?*

“Ah, right,” he replied, voice low and almost approving of the question. “A strategist, on the other hand… he understands decay. He knows the world is broken, inevitable, and moves through it like a shadow that cannot be stopped. He does not care if the pieces survive; he knows how to break them, and how to bend them to his will — a strategist creates inevitability.”

He swung the duffel bag over his shoulder and moved toward the door, the soles of his shoes silent against the worn floorboards. The hall was dark, the air heavy with the scent of old paper and faint cologne.

He entered the sitting room where Amanda slept, her body curled on the couch, breathing shallow and steady. The TV flickered in the corner, playing a horror movie — shadows of monsters crawling across the walls, their movements mirrored by the occasional twitch of Amanda’s eyelids.

*She’s sleeping… or maybe faking, waiting to follow me into the woods and ruin my beautiful nutcracker,* he thought, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Zeke passed her without a sound, the faint click of the TV remote pressing him to a whisper, and slipped out into the night, leaving Amanda to her dreams and the flickering shadows. The rain outside tapped against the windowpane, rhythmic and cold, blending with the low hum of the horror movie.

The house felt alive, holding its breath, waiting.

The night was drenched in rain, the kind that made the city streets shimmer with reflections of broken neon lights. Zeke moved through it like he owned the darkness, coat clinging to him, hair plastered to his forehead, coughing lightly as the cold bit at his lungs. His immune system wasn’t the strongest, but that never stopped him.

*It's night — I've taken matters into my own majestic hands. As they say ' When the sun is down, the demons rise.' *

Ignoring the shadows of Mycroft and his lingering desire to track Davien — already settled — he pressed forward.

“Today I’ll be capturing what I call a Dark Child,” he murmured, stopping in the middle of the wet street.

*It’s not always a child, obviously, but appearances don’t matter. This… this thing isn’t of this world. Like… a sperm rising from the depths of hell.*

He squinted into the tree line, cautious. “I still don’t know how it came to be,” he muttered aloud, scanning the dark woods as if expecting a pair of eyes to glow back at him.

“I know, I know… you may continue explaining — no need to start a pointless argument,” he added, sarcasm cutting through the damp air, talking to himself as usual.

*The Dark Child has a weakness,* his inner voice replied sharply. *It feeds on negative energy.*

Zeke exhaled slowly. “You mean frequencies?”

*Not frequencies,* the voice hissed. *Emotions, like Grief, despair, pain… the darker, the better.*

“How is that a weakness?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed. “Sounds like a superpower to me.”

*Exactly, it’s dangerous. But its weakness is proximity. It can’t feed unless it’s near its source.*

He paused, a branch snapping somewhere deep in the woods catching his attention. *Let’s get a gun ready.*

---

Meanwhile, Amanda was in Zeke’s room — a sanctuary of madness and curiosity. Books, scrolls, and scraps of paper covered every surface, ink-stained sketches of impossible creatures crawling along the walls. On the desk, pages written in a language she didn’t know swirled with diagrams, circles, and strange symbols. The air smelled of old parchment and faint, lingering candle wax. It was as if she just went back to the 1400AD.

She ran her fingers over a map pinned to the wall. “A map… so this is where he might be heading.” she murmured, eyes wide. “This isn’t just insanity… he’s aware of things most people can’t even imagine.” Her pulse quickened. *I've gotten curious about this place too.*

She lingered a moment, taking mental notes, imagining the labyrinthine thoughts that led him here. Then, a mischievous grin spread across her face. “Well, I guess I need some protection… a knife should do.”

Backtracking with purpose, she returned to the kitchen, snatched a small hunting knife, and gave herself a playful little nod in the mirror. *Okay, Amanda… let’s see if following Zeke tonight gets us anywhere.* She slipped it into her jacket pocket, the thrill of curiosity mixed with danger giving her a rare sense of excitement.

---

Lethe Vestige crouched in the shadows of a bush across from Lucien’s house, eyes trained on Amanda as she emerged. Love or loneliness — the distinction had long blurred. To him, she was a reason, a spark, something to focus the ache that had been burning in his chest for as long as he could remember.

*In a world full of people, and yet I am alone… am I meant to be left behind?*

Pain wrapped around him like a cloak, heavy and suffocating, his heart twisting as if it were being wrenched from his chest. His movements were strange, jerky, almost compulsive, yet there was focus in his gaze.

“Again and again… it always ends like this,” he muttered, tears slipping down his cheeks. “I remember everything… but they don’t. Why does life always steals what matters the most to me?”

His body tensed as he followed Amanda from the shadows, hesitant but deliberate, a ghost in the night. Each step was careful, unsteady in its humanity yet unwavering in purpose.

The moon hung low over Cartercel Lake, casting a silver glow across the water. The air smelled faintly of pine and wet earth, a gentle breeze ruffling the leaves. Laughter echoed across the small clearing as five friends sprawled on blankets, a pile of half-empty bottles and snacks scattered around them.

Three boys and two girls — two couples entwined in whispered secrets and playful shoves, while the fifth, a boy, sat a little apart, glancing at his girlfriend with a hopeful smile. Music pulsed softly from a portable speaker, the bass vibrating through the grass as the friends danced barefoot on the dew-kissed ground.

One of the girls tossed her hair back, squealing as the other tried to cover her face with whipped cream from a hastily grabbed dessert. The boys hooted and cheered, trying to dodge the flurry of sugar and laughter, and someone accidentally toppled a cooler, sending ice cubes skittering across the blanket. The chaos only made them laugh harder.

The night felt endless, as if the world had melted away, leaving just the glow of firelight and the warmth of friendship. Each small gesture — a hand held, a glance exchanged, a whispered joke — wrapped the group in a bubble of careless joy.

But the night seemed to be having other plans for them. Shadows lengthened unnaturally along the tree line, the laughter fading into an uneasy silence. Something unseen pressed at the edges of the clearing, a subtle weight that made the hair on the back of their necks rise. The wind carried a strange whisper through the branches, and the water of the lake darkened, reflecting not the moon but something deeper, more sinister.

Unaware of the eyes watching them from the darkness, the friends continued their revelry — but the balance had already shifted. The fun, the warmth, the light of their laughter was now a fragile illusion, teetering on the brink of something that could swallow it whole. Zeke enjoyed the view from afar .

The five of them lounged on the grassy edge of Cartercel Lake, beer bottles glinting in the moonlight. Two couples, heads leaning together, hands brushing, and one guy sitting slightly apart, glancing at his girlfriend every few seconds.

Liam raised his bottle. “Yo, remember when that college teach told me to stop drinking?” He laughed, spilling a little on his shorts.

Stacy nudged him playfully, rolling her eyes. “And look at you now, Mr. Responsible. Totally listening, huh?”

Ethan, leaning close to Maya, smirked. “Some rules are made to be broken, honestly. Like, who even follows college rules anyway?”

Maya laughed, flicking his shoulder. “Exactly. And rules are boring. Like, live a little!”

Caleb ,sitting a little back, fiddled with his cup, watching the couples. “Yeah… I guess. I mean… just don’t, like, get too crazy. Last time someone almost fell in the lake.” He glanced down at the water, sighing, feeling a little left out as the other couples laughed and leaned into each other.

Stacy leaned forward, grinning. “Relax, bro, we’re fine. Unless you scared already?”

Liam laughed loudly, bumping Caleb with his shoulder. “Scared? Nah, you’re just jealous. Admit it!”

Maya nudged her boyfriend again. “He’s always pretending to be chill, but I saw him eyeing the snacks like a hawk.”

Ethan winked at her. “Better safe than sorry, I guess. This place is kinda… creepy at night, not gonna lie.”

Stacy tilted her head, eyes sparkling. “Creepy? It’s perfect. Moonlight, lake, music, us. Come on, don’t be a buzzkill.”

Caleb sighed, forcing a laugh. “Yeah… yeah, perfect.” But his smile didn’t reach his eyes. He took a long swig, staring at the water rippling under the moon.

The laughter and playful teasing continued around him, louder, brighter — a sharp contrast to the shadow gathering in the woods just beyond the lake’s edge.

Zeke was crouched behind the thick trees, the darkness of the woods oozing around him like wet ink. His eyes glinted in the faint moonlight, sharp and predatory. Everything was unfolding exactly as he had imagined. He slipped a hand into his pocket, fingers brushing the smooth glass of his phone — his tiny dagger to manipulate fate — and dialed.

On the other end, Caleb’s phone vibrated. He picked it up, expecting Emilia. His friends noticed and went silent, the pause heavy, expectant.

“Hey… Emilia just might not make it,”Zeke said smoothly, teeth glinting in a devilish grin, “something came up.”

“What do you mean she’s not coming — WHO ARE YOU?!” Caleb’s voice cracked, panic rising.

Zeke cut the call. Just like that. The line went dead. He lingered in the shadows, watching the ripples of confusion and worry spread across the group like water.



*People are most vulnerable when they think they’re protected by numbers. What I just did is use:

- Authority by possession (her phone = instant credibility)
- Incomplete information (no explanation = obsessive curiosity)
- Abrupt withdrawal (cutting the line = panic loop)

The human mind is… beautifully fragile.*

Maya’s voice broke the silence. “Wait… was that your girlfriend? She gonna show up or nah?”

Caleb shook his head, uneasy. “No… she’s not coming. But some random dude picked up. That’s… weird.”

The girls leaned in, whispering. “Ooo, this is messy,” Maya teased.

The boys smirked, nudging each other knowingly. Liam leaned toward Caleb, elbowing him. “Bro, forget her. Honestly, I’ve seen Roxanne glancing your way — you might be in luck.”

Maya laughed, flicking Liam’s arm. “Yeah, she’s totally into you. Don’t sweat Emilia.”

Ethan grinned, reclining in the grass. “Lowkey though… I’ve seen Emilia talking to this shady dude once. Not sure what that was about.”

“Damn,” Liam muttered, “pouring salt on the wound.”

Maya tilted her head, playful but sharp. “Right? I saw it too. Weird vibes.”

Roxanne remained only in their stories, her presence lingering as gossip and tension. Maya waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever. Tonight’s about fun, not drama.”

Laughter bubbled, bottles clinking in the moonlight, music soft from a speaker hidden in the grass. The two couples leaned into each other, whispers and playful touches painting the night with warmth.

Caleb felt the sharp edges of loneliness dig into him. The laughter felt too bright, too loud — a reminder that he was… separate. His gaze drifted to the shadows at the treeline. The kiss of cool night air, the distant rustle of leaves, beckoned him. Slowly, he stood, hands fidgeting, and wandered toward the woods.

Behind the trees, Zeke’s smile widened, teeth catching the moonlight. Darkness clung to him like a cloak. Every movement

deliberate, every breath measured. *Soon,* he thought, *the grief will call to me.*

When Caleb was wandering the woods, lonely and spiraling, the silence pressed against him like judgment. Every step felt louder than it should’ve been, every thought heavier. His phone buzzed once — nothing. No message. No explanation. Just absence.

A shadow slid beside him. He flinched.

“What are you doing out here all alone at night?” Zeke’s voice came smooth, almost conversational. He stood too close, a bottle of wine dangling loosely from his fingers. His face was cold, unreadable — yet beneath it, something restrained itself, fighting the urge to enjoy the moment.

“I should be asking you that,” Caleb said, forcing steadiness as his eyes dropped to the bottle.

“I’m drinking while enjoying the beauty of the moon and the quietness of the woods — 'as they say, the moon knows all the lonely ones' -” Zeke extended the bottle toward him. “It’s amazing how someone can be alone… yet have people around them, right?”

His side‑eye lingered a second too long.

Caleb looked up at the moon like it might answer for him. Pale. Distant. Uncaring. “Yeah… I’ve noticed,” he said, taking a sip.

The wine burned on the way down.

*In times of someone else’s grief, I tend to lack the empathy to comfort them. But I’m badly good at helping them either learn from their mistakes or worsen it for my own benefit. In the end, I’m wise enough to lead them to sheer greatness — turning a flower without leaves into a black rose. I call myself Zekius Prime Mento.*

“I’ve been cheated on before,” Zeke exhaled, faking weight behind the words as he snatched the bottle back and took a deep pull. The gesture was deliberate — calculated to pull Caleb in.

“I hope you are not a cheater, friend.”

Caleb shook his head quickly. “No. I was supposed to be with my girlfriend today… but she never came.”

*Sounds sexual, I may say.*

Zeke watched him blink too often. Watched his balance shift.

“Don’t beat around the bush, my friend.”
A pause. “Oh, this is nice — you’re drunk.”

Zeke took out a baseball bat out of nowhere. Almost lazily.

“Guess it’s time to attract the Dark Child.”

Without hesitation,he firstly hit knocked the air out of Caleb slamming the bat on his stomach like he was hitting the wall. The second sent him to the ground. Zeke didn’t rush. He didn’t rage. Each strike was measured — meant to hurt, not to end. Pain as instruction.

*To enlighten his grief.*

Caleb coughed blood, sobbing, trying to crawl away. Zeke stopped only when Caleb started crying.

“The hardest choices demands the strongest will.”

He looked past Caleb — toward the firelight flickering far away, where laughter still existed.

“I pity you… so I’ll take them all down with you.”

*This is one of those times where I sincerely go to them and beat the hell out of their bodies and stripped the girls and raped them.*

The thought lingered. Zeke was already having plans as he was adapting with the changes of his original plan.

He wiped the bat clean against Caleb's jacket, lifted the wine bottle, and turned back toward the sound of music and shallow happiness.

---

Meanwhile — at the clearing

Liam kicked off his sneakers, letting the sand squish between his toes. Stacy leaned back on her elbows beside him, grinning.

“Bet you can’t skip a rock more than five times,” Liam teased, tossing a flat stone across the water. It skipped once, twice… then sank.

“Ha! Beginner’s luck,” Stacy shot back, nudging him playfully.

From a little ways off, Ethan and Maya were sprawled on a blanket, marshmallows roasting over a tiny fire.

“Honestly, Liam, you’re lucky you’re cute,” Maya said, flicking a marshmallow at him. “Otherwise, you’d be food for the fish.”

“Excuse me,” Liam said, pretending to clutch his heart, “I am way more than just cute. I’m, like, peak snack energy.”

Ethan laughed, leaning closer to Maya. “Peak snack? More like premium fries,” he said with a wink.

The four of them dissolved into giggles, the night full of their laughter and the soft lapping of water. Stacy rolled onto her side, her hair brushing the sand, and stared at the dark treeline across the lake.

Then she froze.

A rustle. Just beyond the glow of the fire, a bush shivered violently.

“…Did you guys hear that?” Stacy whispered, her playful smile fading. She sat up, eyes wide. “There’s… something there.”

Liam sat up, brushing sand off his jeans. “Chill, it’s probably a raccoon or—”

But the bush shook again, louder this time, leaves scratching like nails against each other.

Maya leaned forward, squinting. “Uh… yeah, I don’t think that’s normal, Stace.”

Ethan smirked nervously. “Maybe it’s just… nature being extra creepy tonight?”

Stacy grabbed Liam’s arm. “Nope. I’m not imagining this. There’s something in the bushes!”

The rustling paused. Silence stretched. Then, with a sudden *crash*, a figure burst out of the dark.

"BOO!"

They all yelped. Ethan fell backward on the blanket. Liam scrambled to his feet. Maya shrieked—half in terror, half in laughter.

The figure stepped into the moonlight. It was Zeke, grinning wide, arms raised like he’d just won the ultimate scare.

“You should’ve seen your faces!” Zeke laughed, hair mussed and eyes sparkling in the firelight.

Stacy’s mouth dropped open, then she groaned, burying her face in her hands. “You asshole! You gave me a heart attack!”

Liam laughed, “Dude, not funny… actually, maybe a little funny.”

Maya shook her head, giggling. “Peak energy”

Ethan joined in, still on the ground, “10/10 scare, would almost pee again.”

“Just passing by, I couldn't help myself but be jealous of your lovely time,” said Zeke, smiling as he scanned the group, swirling his wine.

“Oh, I see y’all are having these simple beers—I kinda hate these, they don’t hit hard,” he added, settling down near the fire.

Liam blinked, mouth slightly open. “Uh… wait. ‘Don’t hit hard’? Bruh, what does that even mean?”

Stacy elbowed Liam, whispering with a smirk, “I think he means it’s weak, like, soft vibes. He’s classy wine energy or something.”

Maya leaned back on her hands, laughing. “Soft vibes? Big mood. He’s out here flexing his palate.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow, trying to hide a grin. “Okay, but also… lowkey savage? Like, he’s judging our beer choices in front of us. This dude’s confident.”

Zeke took a slow sip, eyes flicking over them.

Stacy tilted her head, teasingly. “So basically… we’re peasants drinking soda water while you’re over there being Mr. Fancy?”

Liam snorted. “Bro, you’re wild. But I lowkey respect it. Someone gotta educate us.”

Maya grinned at Ethan. “Imagine him judging us like this at every picnic.”

Ethan shrugged, grinning back. “Honestly? I’d pay to watch that. Peak entertainment.”

Zeke leaned back, swirling the wine with a lazy smile, like he owned the moment. “Chill ,if you don't mind me and 2 of you guys can just go get some bottles of wine in my car ,I got like 10 of them”

Liam pushed himself to his feet first. “I’ll go,” he said casually, like they were just heading to grab snacks from a fridge and not walking into pitch-dark woods.

Stacy stood immediately. “Yeah, obviously I’m going too,” she said, already brushing sand off her shorts. “I’m not letting you disappear into the forest with a random wine guy.”

Liam grinned. “See? Protective queen.”

They followed Zeke as he turned toward the trees, the firelight shrinking behind them with every step. The woods swallowed sound fast—the laughter from the lake fading into nothing but crickets and the faint rustle of leaves.

The air felt colder here. Thicker. The path wasn’t really a path at all—just dirt, roots, and shadows pretending to be solid ground. Stacy stayed close to Liam, her fingers brushing his hand, not holding it yet, just *ready*.

“So,” Liam said, breaking the silence, voice a little louder than usual, “you just… keep ten bottles of wine in your car?”

Zeke chuckled softly as he walked ahead of them. “Yeah. I travel a lot. Helps pass the time.”

Stacy raised an eyebrow. “That’s either really cool… or really concerning.”

Liam laughed. “Facts. Like, what kind of wine guy are you? Red? White? ‘I drink this because it’s expensive’ energy?”

The woods grew darker the farther they went. Moonlight barely slipped through the branches, turning everything silver and distorted. Every snap of a twig made Stacy’s shoulders tense, even though she told herself it was stupid.

“You come out here often?” she asked, half-curious, half-checking.

Zeke glanced back at them, his smile easy, unreadable. “More than you’d think.”

Liam nodded slowly. “Okay, forest regular. Respect.” He leaned closer to Stacy, lowering his voice. “Lowkey feels like we’re in a horror movie though.”

She smirked, but her eyes kept scanning the trees. “Stop. Don’t say that. I already hate how quiet it is.”

Zeke slowed near a thick tree, the bark dark and rough, shadows pooling around its roots.

“Oh, I forgot to say—I think I saw someone behind, over there,” Zeke said, pointing casually into the woods.

Liam and Stacy turned at the same time.

Nothing. Just trees. Darkness. Empty air.

The impact came before either of them could react.

A blunt, sickening *thud* slammed into the backs of their heads. Liam went down hard, the breath knocked clean out of him as he hit the ground. Stacy collapsed beside him, vision exploding into white sparks, her ears ringing violently. Neither was unconscious—just stunned, helpless, the world tilting sideways.

“In these kinds of moments, you need to call for help,” Zeke said calmly.

Stacy’s hands shook as she clawed her phone out of her pocket, fingers slippery, panic flooding her chest. She hit Ethan’s name, barely able to see the screen.

“Aww, yes—call your other friends so y’all can die together. Fun!” Zeke said, his voice light, almost delighted.

Liam groaned, trying to push himself up, but his arms gave out. His head felt heavy, wrong. Stacy turned her face slightly—and froze.

A body lay just a few feet away, half-hidden in shadow.

Caleb.

Her scream ripped out of her before she could stop it—raw, broken. She tried to crawl back, her leg screaming in pain as she moved.

“Haha, you thought you were gonna go running somewhere, huh?” Zeke said, smiling.

Pain exploded through Stacy’s leg as she collapsed again, blood darkening the dirt beneath her. She sobbed, dragging herself closer to Liam, who reached for her weakly, his face pale with terror.

Footsteps. Rushed. Panicked.

“Stacy?” Ethan’s voice cracked through the trees. “Liam?!”

Ethan and Maya burst into the clearing—and stopped dead.

“Oh my god—” Maya whispered, her hand flying to her mouth.

Ethan dropped to his knees beside them. “What the hell happened? What did he do to you?” His voice shook as he grabbed Liam’s shoulders, hands trembling.

Liam tried to speak, but all that came out was a broken breath. Stacy clutched Maya’s wrist, eyes wide, tears streaking her face.

“Run,” she whispered. “Please—”

Maya looked up, fear crashing into her all at once, the trap snapping shut as the woods closed in around them.

And Zeke watched them all.

Smiling.

They were all down now.

Not dead — just broken enough to understand fear properly.

Blood darkened sleeves and soaked into leaves. Breath came uneven, shallow, fogging the cold air. No one screamed anymore. Screaming took energy. Hope did too.

The woods had gone quiet.

Not peaceful quiet — the kind where even insects seem to hold their breath.

Somewhere deeper in the trees, Zeke disappeared into shadow, folding himself into the dark like he belonged there. He watched. He waited. This wasn’t his moment.

This was its.

At first, nothing happened.

That was the worst part.

A pressure settled in their chests — subtle, invasive. Like standing too close to a power line. Fingers trembled. Teeth chattered without cold. One of the girls laughed softly, uncontrollably, then clamped her hand over her mouth, eyes wide in horror at herself.

“Do you feel that?” someone whispered.

No one answered.

The air grew heavy, thick — as if the forest itself had begun to breathe inward.

They didn’t see it at first.

They felt it.

A crawling awareness along the spine. The certainty of being observed by something that didn’t blink. Didn’t judge. Didn’t care.

Then the shape detached itself from the dark.

It moved low to the ground, hunched — wrong in proportion. Not fully upright, not fully animal. Its surface wasn’t fur, not skin either — more like shadow tangled into texture, as if darkness had learned how to clump.

It's eyes were the first clear thing.

Too bright.

Not glowing with rage — glowing with attention.

They reflected the group back at themselves, warped and trembling.

No footsteps. No sound of approach. It was simply… there.

The Dark Child did not rush. Did not roar.

It tilted its head slightly, curious.

The fear deepened.

Hands began to shake harder. Muscles locked. One of the guys tried to crawl backward and couldn’t — his body refused the command, like fear had unplugged him from himself.

Their thoughts fragmented.

*Something’s wrong.*
*Don’t move.*
*Why can’t I breathe right?*
*Is this real?*

The anomaly fed quietly.

Not on blood.
Not yet.

It drank the space between heartbeats. The hesitation. The disbelief. The raw, unfiltered realization of helplessness.

One girl started crying — silent, tears cutting lines through dirt on her face. Another stared at the thing without blinking, pupils blown wide, whispering “no” over and over like a broken loop.

The Dark Child leaned forward slightly.

Closer.

Its long arms brushed the ground, fingers almost touching the earth, as if tasting the fear through vibration alone.

Somewhere in the trees, unseen, Zeke smiled faintly.

Not in joy.

In recognition.

This was the moment he’d been waiting for — the instant before collapse, before instinct gave way, before people stopped pretending they were safe.

The Dark Child had arrived.

And the forest knew it was time to feed.

*they say the dark child doesn't see humans as threats because it believes we don't see it*

Said Zeke as he moved through the trees, his boots brushing wet leaves without urgency, without fear. He walked the way a man walks through a room he owns.

Around him, the group lay scattered across the forest floor — breathing, barely. Their fear still lingered in the air like smoke after a fire, and the Dark Child drank it slowly, patiently, the way something eternal eats.

The anomaly crouched low, its form pulsing faintly, darkness thickening and thinning as if it were inhaling emotion itself. Its eyes stayed fixed on the bodies — not hunting, not rushing — simply feeding.

*I am not a threat to it - I figured it's only seen by humans gifted with specific skills such as myself*

Zeke stepped out of the shadow.

Nothing happened.

No reaction. No flinch.

The Dark Child did not acknowledge him — because to it, Zeke was absence. A blind spot in reality. A thing outside its pattern of fear.

He kept walking.

Each step brought him closer to something that should have triggered instinct, terror, survival — but Zeke felt none of it. Only focus. Calculation.

The air around the anomaly felt wrong. Heavy. Pressurized. Like standing too close to something that bends the rules quietly.



Zeke stopped an arm’s length away.

The Dark Child shifted slightly, its body folding inward, dark energy oozing off it like condensation. For a brief second, its eyes flicked toward him — not in alarm, not in recognition — but in vague confusion.

Then it looked away.

Dismissed him.

Zeke smiled thinly.

In one smooth motion, he produced the syringe.

It was large. Industrial. Filled with a thick, lightless fluid that seemed to swallow what little moonlight touched it.

He plunged it forward.

The needle sank into the Dark Child’s mass with resistance — not flesh, not bone — more like piercing through congealed shadow. The anomaly convulsed violently, its limbs jerking, its entire form rippling as if reality itself rejected what was being injected into it.

It did not scream.

It could not.

Its eyes widened instead — brighter, frantic — finally seeing Zeke, not as a man, but as an error.

The ground beneath them trembled.

Darkness spilled outward in waves, choking the air, pressing down on the forest. Leaves lifted. Branches creaked. The bodies on the ground shuddered as if the fear inside them was being ripped away too fast.

The Dark Child thrashed, clawing at nothing, collapsing inward on itself as the substance spread through its form.

Zeke didn’t let go.

He went down with it, knee hitting the earth, hand locked around the syringe, teeth clenched — not in panic, not in effort — but in satisfaction he refused to acknowledge.

They hit the ground together.

The anomaly writhed once more… then stilled.

The forest exhaled.

Silence returned — heavier than before.

Zeke remained crouched over it for a moment, breathing evenly, watching the darkness settle like ash. The Dark Child lay inert, eyes dimmed but not closed — as if even subdued, it refused to fully leave.

Relentless.

That was the word.

Zeke stood, wiped his hand against his coat, and looked back toward the broken group on the forest floor — alive, traumatized, emptied.

The hunt wasn’t over.

It had only moved to its next phase.

Amanda pushed through the brush, branches snapping softly beneath her boots.

The smell hit first — iron, damp earth, something old and wrong. Then the shapes resolved in the dark.

Bodies.

Not dead — she could hear breathing, shallow and uneven — but broken, sprawled like discarded thoughts across the forest floor. And between them… it.

A thing crouched wrong against the earth, hair matted and thick, swallowing moonlight, its limbs folded inward like it had collapsed from exhaustion rather than injury. Its eyes were dim now, unfocused, but still there.

Amanda staggered back a step, hand flying to her mouth.

Zeke straightened slowly beside it, calm as ever, as if he’d just finished a chore.

“you came just in time to help me out with this Dark child of mine”

He flicked the syringe toward her without looking.

Instinct caught it before her mind could protest. The weight of it made her stomach drop.

Her voice came out shaky, breathless. “Zeke… what the hell is this?” She looked at the syringe, then at the thing on the ground. “What did you do?”

“Chill you are already involved”

Before she could move, Zeke raised his phone. The flash cut through the dark like a blade.

“see - what a beautiful picture”

Amanda froze.

The implication settled in — slow, suffocating. Her fingerprints. Her face. The syringe in her hand. Whatever this was, she was now part of it.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You’re insane.”

Zeke smiled — not wide, not cruel — just knowing.

“now help me out - carry this thing”

He bent down and grabbed the Dark Child by its legs. The hair shifted under his grip, reacting like it was still aware, still listening.

Amanda stared.

Up close, it was worse. The hair wasn’t just hair — it moved in slow, nervous ripples, like it remembered fear even while unconscious. No mouth. No face. Just eyes that refused to fully close.

“What… is it?” she breathed. “Is it— alive?”

Zeke didn’t answer.

He only smiled again.

Her hands trembled as she crouched, grabbing the other end, flinching when the hair brushed her wrist. Cold seeped into her skin immediately, a hollow chill that felt like standing too close to someone else’s grief.

They moved through the woods in silence.

The forest seemed to lean inward as they passed, branches creaking softly, shadows stretching and recoiling as if they recognized the thing being carried. Amanda’s breath fogged in the air despite the season.

Then Zeke slowed.

He tilted his head slightly.

Someone was there.

Not close — but not far either.

A girl sat beneath a tree, knees pulled to her chest, hair falling forward as she stared at the ground. She hadn’t noticed them. She was still. Too still. Like someone waiting for a thought to finish breaking them.

Moonlight caught her profile for a brief second.

Zeke stopped walking.

The Dark Child dragged slightly against the ground as his grip loosened.

His eyes stayed on the girl.

Interest sparked — quiet, precise. Not hunger. Not desire.

Recognition.

Amanda followed his gaze and swallowed. “Zeke… we should go.”

He didn’t respond.

The girl shifted, hugging herself tighter, unaware she was being observed. The night seemed to fold around her, protective and predatory all at once.

Zeke’s smile faded into something sharper.



Something thoughtful.

Then, without a word, he resumed walking.

The woods swallowed them again — but the image of the girl lingered in his mind, etched deeper than the bodies, deeper than the Dark Child.