Damian stumbled through the darkness, his mind a blur of guilt and fear. He felt the cold bite of the night against his skin, but nothing compared to the chill in his heart. "Alexis! Alexis!" he shouted, his voice hoarse. "If you can hear me, I promise I'll bring you back safe and sound. Please... give me a sign."
His footsteps were unsteady as he walked in circles, each step filled with dread. He called out for his friend, his voice lost in the empty forest. The night stretched on endlessly, and exhaustion crept in. He hadn't slept since Lamia's disappearance, and finally, unable to keep going, Damian collapsed in a clearing. The soft grass beneath him offered little comfort as he drifted off into a troubled sleep.
Morning came too soon, the first rays of sunlight piercing the forest canopy and falling on Damian's face. Startled awake, he shot up, panic gripping his chest. The realization hit him like a wave—he still hadn't found Lamia. The fear he had momentarily pushed aside now returned with a vengeance. His body ached, but he forced himself to his feet, determined to keep searching.
"I'll find you, Alexis," Damian whispered to himself, his voice shaking with determination. "I won't give up."
Back at the grand Silverhill estate, Charles MacLeod stood in front of Lamia's door, his face set in frustration. He knocked heavily for what felt like the hundredth time. "Lamia, son, come downstairs for breakfast!" Charles called out, trying to keep his voice steady. "After breakfast, we're leaving for Scotland. Don't keep me waiting."
Silence.
Charles felt an uneasy chill run down his spine. Something was wrong. His son had never been this late before. The unease grew, transforming into a fear he couldn't shake.
"Guards!" he bellowed, turning to the men standing nearby. "Break down this door. Now!"
Four bulky guards rushed forward and, with one mighty shove, they splintered the door from its frame. The room beyond was pristine. The bed hadn't been touched; it looked like no one had slept in it.
Charles' heart dropped. His face twisted with rage. "Didn't I tell you all to make sure my son didn't leave his room? You've failed me. If anything happens to Lamia, your heads will roll for this!" His voice was ice-cold, filled with a barely controlled fury.
The guards trembled, fear evident in their wide eyes. But Charles didn't care. His mind was racing. Something terrible was unfolding, he was sure of it.
At that moment, Maxandra, Charles' wife, glided out from the kitchen, dressed in a sleek, emerald gown that shimmered as she moved. The gown hugged her curves perfectly, falling to the floor in soft, luxurious waves. Her heels—a pair of black stiletto heels, their glossy surface catching the morning light—clicked against the marble floor as she approached, her beauty stunning, but her expression filled with concern.
"Charles," Maxandra said, her voice light but cautious. "I made your favorite, fried plantains and chicken stew. You should come eat."
Charles tried to mask his distress, but Maxandra's sharp eyes caught on. She stepped closer, her brow furrowing as she searched his face. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice tight. "Where's Lamia? He's never missed breakfast before."
Charles didn't respond immediately, his jaw clenched as he tried to control the rising tide of panic.
Maxandra's face paled. "No..." Her voice broke, her hand flying to her mouth. "Could he have left after everything we told him?"
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Then, with a sudden crash, the framed portrait of Lamia that hung in the dining room shattered, the glass splintering across the floor.
Maxandra gasped, her eyes wide with horror. "No! This is a bad omen! Charles, our son—our baby boy—is in danger!" Her knees buckled, and she fell to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. "Why does he do this to me, every time? Didn't we warn him?"
Charles rushed to her, kneeling beside her. He cupped her cheeks, his face filled with grim determination. "Maxandra, listen to me," he said firmly. "I swear, I will find him. I'll bring Lamia back, no matter what it takes. As soon as we're back, we're leaving for Scotland. This place is dangerous for our son."
Maxandra nodded, her hiccups softening. She clutched the pendant Charles had given her years ago, her knuckles white with fear.
Charles kissed her, his lips firm and reassuring. "I have to go, my love. Stay strong for me."
She nodded again, watching as Charles hurried out the door.
He entered his sleek black Mercedes Benz, the engine roaring to life as he sped away from the estate, followed by several guards in pursuit. Unbeknownst to Lamia, Charles had placed a small tracking chip in his son's clothing, just in case something like this ever happened. He followed the signal closely, his heart pounding as the road led him toward the dangerous outskirts of Valemont City—toward a place where criminals and thugs ruled.
Meanwhile, Damian trudged through the forest, weary from hours of searching. His body was heavy with exhaustion, but his eyes caught something glinting in the morning light. Kneeling down, his fingers wrapped around a delicate silver necklace—Lamia's necklace.
Damian's chest tightened. Tears welled up in his eyes. This was his fault. He had failed to protect his friend, and now Lamia was out there somewhere—alone and scared.
He clutched the necklace tightly, his fingers trembling. A sob escaped his lips as the weight of his guilt pressed down on him. "I'm sorry, Alexis," Damian whispered. "I'll find you. I swear, I'll find you."
Suddenly, his eyes began to glow a deep red. Images flashed before him—Lamia being dragged through the dirt by thugs, their filthy hands pulling at him. Damian's blood boiled with rage.
He followed the path the vision had shown him, his pace quickening as he raced out of the forest and into a camp where a group of men sat laughing and joking crudely. The sight of them made Damian's stomach churn.
There, tied to a tree, was Lamia—pale, exhausted, and bruised. Damian's heart clenched.
Without hesitation, Damian crept toward him, silent as a cat. He knelt by Lamia's side, quickly untying the ropes that had left angry red marks on his friend's delicate wrists.
Lamia's eyes fluttered open. "Xavier... I knew you'd come," he whispered, his voice weak but filled with relief.
"Shh, it's okay," Damian whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to Lamia's forehead. "I'm getting you out of here."
But as they turned to leave, a punch landed squarely on Damian's jaw, sending him crashing to the ground.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" a man sneered, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Come to join the fun, have you?"
Damian wiped the blood from his lip and glared up at the man. "Let him go," he growled. "He hasn't done anything wrong."
The man laughed, his wicked smile spreading across his face. "Looks like we've got ourselves a faggot," he taunted. "Tell me, who's the top and who's the bottom?"
Damian felt disgusted by the man's words, his fists clenching at his sides.
"Maxwell, bind the witch," the leader barked. "Kill the other one."
Lamia's eyes widened in horror. "No! Xavier, run!"
But Damian wouldn't leave. He stood firm, determined to protect his friend at any cost.
Just as the thugs lunged at him, Damian's powers flared to life. But nothing happened. His magic, still too unpredictable, failed him.
Maxwell smirked, advancing on Damian. "A witch in this century?" he mocked. "We're going to make a fortune off of you."
Before Damian could react, Lamia was thrown violently to the ground, his body crumpling like a ragdoll. The sound of bones breaking filled the air as an oncoming vehicle barreled down the road.
"Alexis, no!" Damian screamed, but it was too late.
The car slammed into Lamia, sending him flying. Blood gushed from his head as his fragile body hit the pavement. Damian's heart shattered as he was dragged away, his red eyes glowing with vengeance.
"I'll come back for you, Alexis. I swear... they will pay for this in blood."
AUTHOR NOTE
Try out my new book
Game of the dead
Every 10 years 15 students are chosen to play several deadly games for the amusement of vile, destructive and deadly forces.
Failure to do so was situation worse than death, some were dismembered body part to part, some were eaten alive, or boiled or worse fried.
No one has escaped the death game and to prevent the circle from repeating every 10 years the chosen students must complete 15 terrifying steps with malicious consequences and prices that either take you to the next step or kill you.
Meanwhile Alexander a class nerd and a victim of several bullying got entangled in a bigger mess, being hated and despised wasn't enough he was publicly humiliated by half of his classmates. But fate has another plan for him hearing of the final gathering of the seniors of Sunshine international school he eagerly decided to join but it became his doom. Creatures beyond human comprehension, twisted and deformed appeared from the shadows and 15 students were taken forcefully. Those that were not chosen were brutally killed leaving the chosen ones to a fate worse than death.....
Except
"Come on, Ethan, let's go! I can feel the vibes already. Today's going to be amazing—something tells me this is the day we'll go higher than ever," Alexander's excited voice cut through the air, pulling Ethan along without hesitation.
They reached the towering King's Hall, a place of grandeur and power, known for hosting the most exclusive, elite gatherings. The moment they stepped inside, the sheer scale of it overwhelmed Ethan.
"Oh boy, oh boy! This is it, Ethan. Look at that!" Alexander's eyes widened as they took in the shimmering chandeliers that hung above, casting fractured light across the lavishly decorated room. The crowd buzzed, laughter and voices blending together, but the dimly lit corners held a sinister energy—places where dark secrets unfolded away from prying eyes.
Ethan managed a small smile, but it quickly faded when a sharp, burning pain shot through his arm. He gasped, eyes darting down to find a slimy, black, dog-like creature latched onto his flesh. Its skin glistened with something foul, its eyes burning with a wild, ravenous hunger as it let out a guttural hiss.
"Haa! Get away from me, you monster!" Ethan shrieked, thrashing his arm as panic set in. "Aleeexxx!"
In sheer terror, Ethan bolted toward the hall, his legs trembling beneath him. But as he ran, something shifted. The lively atmosphere of the party was gone. The chatter, the music—everything had been snuffed out like a dying flame.
Silence.
The hall was deathly still, and as Ethan's frantic gaze scanned the room, his breath caught in his throat. Something was horribly wrong.
Out of the dim light emerged a towering, grotesque figure. It was dripping in blood, its bony frame wrapped in ragged skin. Long, twisted fingers dangled at its sides, each adorned with human organs—livers, kidneys, hearts. A sickening stench filled the air, and the figure's hollow, eyeless face loomed closer, dark and endless. The sockets were pits of pure void, consuming all light, all hope.
"No... no... what's happening? Alex! Where are you? Please, come..." Ethan's voice cracked, a terrified whisper.
But before he could do anything, the creature lunged forward with impossible speed, its clawed hand wrapping around him like a vice. It hoisted him into the air with ease, and Ethan's body went limp in shock. His mind screamed for help, but his voice was lost.
The creature's massive mouth, filled with jagged, rotting teeth, unhinged wide, wider than any human jaw ever could. The stench of decay and death overwhelmed him as it opened, revealing the gaping abyss inside. Ethan's heart pounded in his chest, pure horror gripping him.
Then, without mercy, the creature dragged him into its mouth, its slimy tongue coiling around him, pulling him into the endless pit of darkness. Ethan screamed as his body fell deeper, into the void, into nothingness, as the last remnants of light vanished, leaving only his terrified cries to echo into oblivion.