The vision of Miguel’s body smacking against the table flashes over and over in my mind. The sound of his skull cracking against the wooden surface. He’s hurt because of me. My insides twist into a sickening knot.
The eyeless cyclops pulls me close, lifting me off my feet. I come face to face with the atrocity, its features even more horrific up close. The skin on its face is a labyrinth of scars and lesions. Its empty eye socket seems deeper, a tunnel to an eternity of despair.
A small voice at the back of my mind reminds me, Shadow isn’t coming.
Not this time. Not ever again.
A Thousand Drops of Blood
Regret pierces through me like a jagged piece of glass in my last moments before the cycloptic horror devours me whole.
I drove Shadow away with my toxic emotions, my overwhelming needs.
Now, when I need him most, I am truly alone. I should have stayed that way, stayed alone to keep everyone else safe from the darkness that is my life.
I should have given Miguel a call or just left a message. Anything to keep him far away from my destructive reach.
Green dripping teeth grin at me with a lethal sharpness. This is it. The hidden monstrosities of my reality have caught up to me.
I couldn't protect Miguel, and I can’t protect myself. Maybe it's time to let go, to let the dark consume me once and for all.
Darkness surges through the restaurant, reaching every corner and swallowing every light source, every vibrant splash of color.
Amidst the engulfing shadows, certain elements burst to life. The rich broth of the pho takes on an almost luminous quality. Gleaming silverware and glass shimmers while a spilled garnet-red chili sauce blazes like a flare against the overwhelming obsidian.
Despite being cloaked in inky darkness, the world is suddenly filled with jarring contrasts, making the mundane appear extraordinary.
The monster’s hold tightens, its claws sinking deeper into my arms. Pain floods my brain, and my own sticky, slick blood continues to fill the sleeves of my sweater. I’d cry out, but I can’t catch my breath. It comes in ragged gasps as waves of agony crash into me, mixed with the buzzing adrenaline of panic.
Tendrils of an even deeper blackness suddenly emerge from the abyss, winding and writhing with purpose. Sensing the shift, the creature hesitates but its grip doesn't falter. The atmosphere thickens—electric and tense.
Shadow materializes from the darkness, every tentacle quivering with fury. His monstrous form is an unexpected beacon of light in this nightmare.
The air vibrates with his rage. In a gravelly voice that echoes with power, he growls, "For each drop of her blood you've taken, I will extract a thousand from you."
He's here.
Despite Shadow’s warnings, despite the distance he tried to place between us, he’s here. The realization overwhelms me, causing the backs of my eyes to sting with unshed tears. As the rush of emotions crashes over me, my heart thunders, matching the pulse of Shadow's wrathful energy.
The cyclops snarls in response, tightening its grip on me. I scream at the crushing pain, my ribs cracking to a near breaking point.
"The Nexus will be mine," it rumbles in a monstrous timbre that’s difficult to understand, that would be impossible if I hadn’t been used to having conversations with the creature under my bed.
My mind races but the word "Nexus" is unfamiliar.
In a horrifying move, the cyclops creature leans down, its cavernous maw opening. It stretches impossibly wide, lined in rows of razor-sharp teeth. It seems to be preparing to shove me in its mouth. But before it can, Shadow's rage manifests as a dark explosion of energy.
The creature lunges at Shadow, throwing me aside like a ragdoll. Pain shoots through every part of my body as I crash into a nearby table. A copper tang fills my mouth and my vision slides sideways.
The pho in the nearby bowls starts to boil uncontrollably, steam rising in thick, aggressive columns. The very essence of the environment seems to react to the raw energy in the room. Windows shatter under the pressure, sending sharp shards flying in every direction. Tables begin to tremble, their legs buckling and wood splintering. Chairs levitate before jettisoning across the room or getting crushed under the sheer force of the combat.
A pungent aroma fills the air—the mingling of rich broths, fresh herbs, and the metallic scent of spilled blood.
A young woman tries to make her escape, but her foot catches on a chair forcefully sliding toward her, sending her sprawling.
A teenager, probably no older than sixteen, jumps forward and helps her to her feet. They disappear into the kitchen. I hope to God there is an exit back there.
The eyeless cyclops charges forward with brute force, trying to overpower Shadow with its size. The ground shakes with each of its pounding steps as Shadow darts around quickly, using the darkness as a veil. Just as the cyclops prepares to swing, Shadow's tentacles lash out, targeting its legs, trying to topple the behemoth.
