I first saw them in Egypt, back when humans butchered each other in the name of whichever god they favored that day.
The Tesem were deadly. Poetry in motion. So swift and fearless that death raced alongside them.
The creature I crafted is larger, sharper, and honed by centuries of adaptation.
I didn’t evolve this form out of necessity, though.
I did it because restraint is for cowards. And no matter how massive or terrifying I make this form, the fools still take the bait.
Every goddamn time.
Humans may be terrified of the unknown, but if you wrap it up in soft fur and a wagging tail, they’ll practically beg you to rip their throats out.
Even the worst predators fall for the wounded-dog act. Serial killers soften, monsters drop their guard, all because of some pathetic whimper and sad eyes.
Pitiful, really. Which is what makes it so damn funny.
As the last shadows sink into me, I stretch, relishing the ripple of muscle beneath sleek black fur. With a snort of frustration, one that’s unmistakably canine, I slip silently into the night.
Trees blur into shadowed streaks as that narcotic scent drifts closer, tunneling beneath my skin.
It’s achingly familiar, ancient even, yet somehow disturbingly new—like an old nightmare returned, wrapped in something irresistible and utterly terrifying.
Whatever’s out there.
Whatever infiltrated my town and dared to make me feel.
I’ll find it.
No one disrupts my peace.
Not without consequences.
Threats are simple: hunt, kill, forget.
But this?
This is different.
Familiar in a way that makes my skin crawl.
And personal in a way I can’t ignore.
Aurora
Shit, shit, shit!
I overslept again.
I knew I should have put the damn book down after dinner, but when the boroughs of New York City teamed up to save the world?
Yeah, I was fucked.
I read through the night like a dumbass and didn’t even twitch when my alarm clock went off twenty minutes ago. Now, the digital traitor glares at me, beaming my failure in neon red.
Can alarm clocks feel?
Because mine is definitely mocking me.
