From the heart of the smoldering crater, where the city had been vaporized moments before, a figure slowly, impossibly, began to rise.
It stood tall, reaching a height of six feet nine inches, its silhouette stark against the swirling smoke and ash. Its eyes were hollow chasms, reflecting no light, mirroring only the infinite emptiness of the abyss from which it seemed to have been born.
A chorus of wails, a symphony of unending torment, surrounded it, clinging to the air like a broken record playing on repeat.
"It hurts"…"Mommy!!!" …"Lizzy!!"…"My dog, where is it!?"…
"Grandma, wake up… please wake up."
"NO… NO NOOOOOOO!!!"
The creature tilted its head, its gaze drawn towards a distant point on the horizon. Though kilometers away, its vision pierced through the lingering debris, past the rivers of blood that stained the ruined landscape.
It saw him.
A mangled corpse lay amidst the destruction, yet life flickered within its shattered form. Irises, the color of fresh blood, burned with an unnatural intensity. With agonizing slowness, the body began to mend. Tendons snapped back into place, followed by the grinding, grating sound of bones reconnecting. Muscles, ripped and torn, knit themselves back together.
A red flame, intertwined with tendrils of deepest black, erupted from within, wrapping itself around the broken form, a macabre shroud of power. It surged, consuming the entire body until only two piercing red irises remained, burning like embers in the encroaching twilight, staring back at the creature across the ravaged land. Not it… him. Owen.
The creature's impossibly long neck cracked with a sickening sound, and as it moved, the wails that had surrounded it fell silent. The lost souls, swirling around it like moths to a flame, turned their vacant gazes towards the resurrected figure in the distance.
A slow, deliberate smile stretched across the creature's featureless face. Then, with a subtle ripple, its form began to shift, morphing, flowing like liquid shadow until it solidified into a breathtakingly beautiful human shape. It was Faith, her serene face now twisted into a knowing, predatory grin.
She reached out a hand, palm open wide, towards him.
The kilometers between them seemed to vanish, space and distance rendered meaningless. Her hand, impossibly swift, reached for his eyes, hovering inches from his face as she stood before him.
"Don't..."
The creature's voice, a soft whisper that carried the weight of eons, finally broke the silence.
"Don't blink… Owen."
...
"Haaaaa," Owen gasped, the sound raw and ragged, like the death rattle of a dying animal. He awoke with a violent jolt, his body screaming in protest.
Every muscle was stiff, unresponsive. Though darkness enveloped him, he could feel the unnatural glow emanating from his own eyes, twin embers burning red.
He was buried. Half-buried beneath a crushing weight of debris. Dust choked the air, and he felt like a dried-up mummy, his skin stretched taut over bone. How long had he been here? Time stretched and distorted in his memory, an endless, suffocating void.
<-------->
The silence that followed the cataclysm was more terrifying than the roar of the explosion. A thick, acrid dust choked the air, coating everything in a fine layer of grey. Broken structures clawed at the blood-red sky, monuments to a devastation that felt both alien and brutally real.
Within the skeletal remains of what was once a bustling street, amidst the twisted metal and shattered concrete, sat a small, makeshift shack. Constructed from scavenged corrugated iron and scraps of wood, it offered little protection from the elements, yet it was home to a man named Elias. He was the picture of destitution: clothes tattered and stained, hair matted with grime, his face a roadmap of hardship etched by years of living on the fringes of society.
Elias sat hunched in the darkness of his shack, his arms wrapped tightly around his drawn-up knees. His eyes, wide and bloodshot, darted nervously towards the flimsy door, as if expecting the very air outside to solidify into a monstrous form. He muttered frantic prayers, a desperate litany directed at any power that might be listening – be it benevolent or malevolent.
Then, a sound cut through the oppressive silence. A soft, hesitant knock against the thin metal of his door. Elias froze, every muscle in his body tensing.
"Daddy..." A small, fragile voice drifted through the cracks in the shack's walls. "Daddy... I'm cold."
Elias's breath hitched in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if trying to block out the sound, the reality it presented.
"Daddy?... please..." The voice was laced with a growing desperation, a child's plea for comfort in a world that had suddenly turned monstrous. The faint sound of sniffling followed, the universal language of a child's tears.
"Hick Daddy.... open please..." The small voice was now thick with sobs, each word a painful shard piercing Elias's fragile composure.
A wave of conflicting emotions crashed over him. A primal instinct, the ingrained fatherly urge to protect and comfort his child, warred with a terror so profound it threatened to shatter his sanity. His daughter, Lily. He hadn't seen her ... He had tried to find her, searching the chaotic streets, his calls swallowed by the rising panic. Had she somehow survived? Was this truly her?
Or was it... something else? The voice, though familiar, carried an unnerving sweetness, a childlike innocence that felt grotesquely out of place in the ravaged landscape. His mind, already frayed by fear and deprivation, conjured images from the whispers he'd heard – tales of twisted imitations, of loved ones returned with hollow eyes and sinister intent.
"Lord almighty... devil in hell... f-fuck whichever divine or malice-filled god, please save me..." Elias choked out, his voice a ragged whisper. "Remove this v-vile creature..."
The crying outside intensified, each sob tearing at the remnants of Elias's resolve. "It's me, Daddy! It's Lily! I'm scared!"
He could hear the small hands fumbling at the makeshift latch on the door. A sliver of light peeked through as it was lifted slightly. Elias recoiled, pressing himself further into the shadows, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
Through the narrow opening, he saw a small, shivering figure. A girl, no older than seven, her face pale and streaked with tears, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. She clutched a tattered teddy bear to her chest, its fur matted and worn. It was Lily. There was no mistaking the bright, curious spark that usually lit up her eyes, now dimmed by terror, but undeniably her.
His terror began to crack, replaced by a wave of guilt so intense it felt physical. He had abandoned her, in his fear, even before knowing what lurked outside. He had called his own daughter a vile creature.
"Lily..." His voice was barely a whisper, thick with emotion.
"Daddy!" Her face lit up with a flicker of hope, quickly replaced by confusion as he didn't immediately open the door. "Why won't you open up? I'm so cold, Daddy."
He hesitated, his mind still battling the lingering tendrils of fear. What if this was a trick? What if this innocent-looking child was a vessel for something malevolent? But looking at her small, trembling form, the genuine distress in her voice, the way she clutched her worn teddy bear – all his doubts began to crumble.
"Just... just a moment, sweetheart," he managed, his voice trembling. He scrambled to his feet, his legs stiff and unsteady. He fumbled with the makeshift barricade he had placed against the door, his hands shaking so violently he could barely grip the rough wood.
Finally, the barrier was removed. He reached for the latch, his hand hovering over the cold metal. He took a deep, shuddering breath. He had to trust. He had to believe that this was his Lily, his precious daughter, who had somehow found her way back to him amidst the chaos.
He pulled the door open, and Lily stumbled into his arms, her small body wracked with sobs. He held her tight, burying his face in her matted hair, the familiar scent of her still clinging to her clothes.
"Oh, Lily... my Lily..." he choked out, tears streaming down his own face. "I thought... I thought I'd lost you."
She clung to him, her small arms wrapped tightly around his neck. "I was so scared, Daddy. So many bad things... loud noises... and everyone disappeared."
He held her closer, shielding her fragile form from the horrors outside. He looked past her, out into the desolate landscape.
The red moon still hung in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the devastation. The world had changed, irrevocably. But in his arms, he held the one thing that still mattered. His daughter. His reason to keep going in this shattered world.
The cries outside faded into whimpers as she finally felt safe in his embrace. He knew their troubles were far from over. The world outside was still dangerous, unpredictable. But for now, in the dim light of his meager shack, with his daughter safe in his arms,
He looked at his daughter but he pulled a knife and struck for the head and came out the other side..
He killed her himself after all...killing her with the same knife again.....