By Brad Whittingham
I opened my eyes to a lifeless landscape. There were insinuations of vistas and peaks, but they refused to reveal their details. All was a dream, save for her. Her umber skin was scarred by many hard-fought victories, and despite always getting her fair share, I never saw her wearing anything finer than a simple tunic.
‘Vanyu!’ It felt like shouting through tar, and she flinched—almost hunched—in response. Vanyu’s head lowered. Her muscles tensed tight underneath her tunic as she clenched her fists.
And then I heard the static.
‘So, you’re trying to block me out, are you?’ She growled out through clenched teeth, something dark spattered onto the ground in front of her.
The ritual had failed.
I tried to shake myself free. The static was almost deafening. Before I knew it, she was upon me.
The wracking pain was what tore me from my vision. A scream caught in my throat as several blades skewered my chest. The white-hot agony that had filled my vision began to fade as I felt myself being slowly lifted, my rib cage aching as it was made a point of leverage.
The darkness clung to the monstrosity before me like pitch that dripped and evaporated into a thick miasma. It twitched and spasmed, enraptured by raw adrenaline. I could barely make out its face except for two orbs of static and a smile that stretched to reach them. I winced as it lunged at me. It breathed frigid air into my ear and across the side of my face.
‘How long will we play this game?’ Its voice struck something deep within me – the bass kicked into the back of my skull with each word teetering on a razor’s edge. I could see my breath, and the right of my face was numb.
Its claws dug deeper, and it let out a satisfied exhale in response to my mangled cry.
‘Waiting will not help. Meat tastes best when marinated.’
My mouth hung agape, head swimming with static. The monstrosity met my vacant stare.
‘You are steeped in agony. Oblivion drips from you like sweat and blood.’
It pulled me close. Its breath was heavy with the stink of carrion.
‘You will not see tomorrow.’
A sudden flash of magic—my own magic—rushed through me. I saw harrowing visions of my corpse splayed out. Crushed and contorted in ways only a monstrosity such as this could imagine.
But try as I might, I couldn’t see past the next break of dawn.
It didn’t take me long to pack my things. I intended on thanking Brok for allowing me to stay with him for the last few weeks, but his door had remained shut since I last saw him take off a few days ago.
I left him a brief note on some parchment and my coin purse.
I was only a few streets from Brok’s home before I cursed my hasty departure, rubbing at the gooseflesh on my arms as a bitter morning breeze swept through the city. The air had that crisp, salty quality that only port cities could boast, intermingling with the warm aroma of a fresh baker’s dozen. I mused on how Brok living in a neighbourhood like this was like a soldier in velvet – deserved but unbefitting.
The sky itself was a flat plane of soft grey by the time I made it to the port. The salt in the air had lost its subtlety, and was now laden with fresh—and not so fresh—fish. The chilling wind had softened, but was still present enough for me to be thankful for every patch of direct sunlight I could catch. This side of the city was still stretching its tired limbs, as deckhands and dock workers heaved around wooden crates and merchants battled with seagulls and buyers alike.
I sat down on a small bench that had caught the sun’s attention, feigning relief as I tried to decipher my thoughts. The sound of raucous laughter broke my concentration, and I glanced up to see Brok cheerily giving a send-off to a few dock workers before entering a nearby tavern. I barely noticed the buzzing in my ears fade as I sat up and rushed into The Crestside Squalor.
The smell that hit me lacked any eloquent description. The stale mix of sweat, alcohol, and the sea concocted only the pure ideal of “the sailor” in my mind – the patrons failed to stray far from that either.
I glanced about the dive, and my focus was quickly consumed by another bout of static; I moved normally, but I was elsewhere.
‘Felix?’ A familiar gruff shout sundered the static in my mind completely and I resurfaced, looking towards Brok. His once dark lavender skin was ruddier on the tops of his arms and face, and his black hair and beard could almost be considered shaggy. The light tunic he wore was speckled with stains and completely torn at the shoulders – for temperature control or to show off his muscular frame, I could only guess both.
‘Brok! It’s been, what, a month? Two?’ I barely recognised my laughter, although his own guffaw drowned it out with ease; Brok was known as the heart of our mercenary group, and for good reason.
He closed the distance between us with surprising dexterity, clapping my arm hard as a smile stretched across his face, his tusks jutting through his bristly beard.
‘More like two days! What, you miss me?’ He rested his arm across my shoulders, giving me a dramatic half-lidded stare and sly grin before corralling me to his table with booming laughter.
‘Not anymore!’ I retorted, elbowing him in the side. Brok always had a contagious energy, and I smiled despite myself as rosy-hued memories began to resurface.
‘Well, you’ve got me all to yourself now.’ he sang, his breath sour-sweet with hops as we stumbled to the table, which had been surreptitiously cleared of a dozen-or-so tankards in Brok’s brief absence.
Brok practically fell into his seat and took a moment to realise the offensively empty state of the table before he called out for two more drinks. He had two coins out before I could speak.
‘Ah! This is on me. You’re my guest.’ He made a grandiose gesture unbefitting of The Crestside Squalor – like a captain among recruits.
The thought of leaving town slipped my mind.
The sun was high in the sky by the time we left The Crestside Squallor. Brok had his arm rested across my shoulders. I could feel the heft of his frame as he stumbled over his feet and chortled to himself.
‘I’fve godda… a room upshtairz,’ he thudded a tarnished brass key into my chest, ‘and’en we ken talk there.’ I lugged him upright as he began to lean into me.
‘What did you want to talk about?’ The question was rhetorical in the way you’d typically ask someone that drunk. He giggled loudly, beginning to walk the brass key up my chest.
‘Eheh. What didyu want to talk about?’ he repeated teasingly, his stare and grin now disarmingly convincing.
‘Can you try to walk a bit more? You’re heavier than you look.’ I pushed forward, trying to juggle his drunken words. He snickered to himself; I could only imagine the joke he was concocting in his head.
But he remained surprisingly tame as we stumbled back to his house, which allowed Brok to sober up enough that he managed to fish his house key from his pocket himself and open the door.
His bed creaked as he splayed out across it, giving out a groan as he nursed his temples.
‘Thanks for… you know, carryin me,’ his demeanour shifted, almost guilty or regretful, ‘Been avoidin’ goin’ ome.’
I hovered at the doorway, ‘Nothing I did, right?’ I half-joked.
‘Nah, not at all,’ he practically blurted out, ‘you’ve been great. Just… found out sum shit.’
A shiver went down my spine, not just cold and hair-prickling, but as though hundreds of freezing spiders raced down my back. Static sung at the corners of my subconscious.
I spoke through it. ‘Is that what you wanted to talk about earlier?’
Brok sat up and gave a heavy nod. I took a few steps into the room, the static encroaching with each footfall.
‘You remember Vanyu, yeah?’ The way he asked was more hopeful than questioning.
I paused. I felt watched – as though I were prey to a panther that was ready to pounce. ‘Yeah, I remember Vanyu.’
‘They found her yesterday…’ his voice was drawn out, but he continued despite himself, ‘She killed herself.’
Something seemed to tear the air from my lungs, like a kick to the sternum. The panther pounced, and suddenly static roared all around me. I stumbled backwards, failing to catch my breath, as a dark veil crept at the corners of my vision. Brok’s voice was a distant whisper as I felt myself rush away.
Darkness swallowed me.
I stirred awake as a tender wind rustled through my hair and clothes. A languid black smog filled the space where I was laid out – the strangeness of laying on smoke was lost on my body, as it refused to budge at my astonishment. Even my mind struggled to stir any feelings of anxiety or dread, as if they were vaporous or padded.
‘They all felt as you do.’ The voice that filled the space was dulled – almost kind. And just like the haze, it was languid and soft, like a sweet caress.
‘There were five others before you. Five.’ The sensation of several bony fingers cradling my chin made me realise I had closed my eyes. I opened them to the sight of two warm, white orbs that hung in the air above me.
‘They were strong. Vanyu the strongest… There is no shame in rest, even for a moment.’ As it pulled back, the smog began to thicken and roil around me. My body was completely devoid of energy now – I felt my heart slowing.
‘Just… for a moment?’ My head snapped upright as I barely skirted unconsciousness.
‘Yes… And soon, you’ll be with those you hold dear’
I thought of my mercenary group… of Brok and Vanyu, and how doggedly this thing must have worn Vanyu down to bring her to such lows.
At first, I didn’t notice the spark in my chest.
I tried to give out a retort, but felt my lungs burn in response. A deep chill set in to my legs and arms and began to creep through the rest of my body; the two static orbs above me watched closely. Reflexively, I pulled upon the dregs of magic within me, evoking vision after vision to search for an escape but I only received the same gruesome depictions of my death.
‘And to think that I thought you would last till dusk.’ The monstrosity’s voice was a barely-restrained scream – like nails on a chalkboard.
I felt the presence of the monstrosity within my mind, savouring each frenzied thought and prayer as the two white orbs became more intense and erratic.
‘I’ll have to make it easier for you then.’ I eked out my final words of defiance, and indulged in old, summer-hued memories of youth as the chill reached and pierced my heart.
My body erupted with silver flame.
Instinctively, I took in a breath that seemed to never cease. Sensation shot painfully through my body. The spark of intense heat within my heart flickered dangerously – I held it within myself fervently. I defiantly hoarded memories: frivolity and revelry with friends and family, the crashing rain on a summer night, holding someone I loved tightly to my chest.
Liquid fire swept through my body like a wave. Strength rushed through me as I stood tall and bold. The gloom began to recede as the eyes of the monstrosity sputtered and began evaporating. On the cusp of destruction, it let out a great scream as the darkness coalesced into thousands of stiletto-thin points, and descended upon me.
High on hope, I dared one last thought – not a memory, but a vision. I clawed through harrowing visions that showed what could be, and instead grasped onto what will be. As I held it, the gloam burned away, like the dark to the dawn, as I saw my true future:
Tomorrow
