River along with five other drifters, moved cautiously through the suffocating darkness, their breaths shallow and hearts pounding in sync with the faint sound of their footsteps.
The pale yellow light from the lantern she held flickered uncertainly, casting only a small pool of illumination around them, barely enough to keep the encroaching shadows at bay.
It wasn't just the absence of light that disturbed her, but the feeling that the darkness was alive, watching, waiting.
After they had entered the sleeping pod, River and the other drifters were transported to this forsaken city—a place permanently shrouded in an oppressive, malevolent darkness.
Lightning flickered far above in the thick, roiling clouds, the only sign of day or night, as the inhabitants of this place could no longer distinguish between the two.
According to other drifters they had met here—survivors who called it the City of Darkness—this place had once been vibrant. But after a cataclysm of unknown origins, it had fallen into shadow, never again to see the sun or moon.
The city's drifters had splintered into small groups, forming exploration teams to brave the vast expanses of darkness outside its crumbled borders, where even the lightning dared not touch.
Beyond the city limits, they ventured into a seemingly endless abyss, battling creatures born of nightmares—the Nexus creatures. Every step was a risk; every breath, a gamble.
Suddenly, the light from River's lantern flickered and then blew out, plunging the group into complete and total darkness.
The silence that followed was deafening. It pressed against them, suffocating, as though the very air had thickened into a suffocating blanket.
River felt her thoughts slow as if her mind were turning to molasses. A sensation of cold dread clawed its way up her spine. Time seemed to stretch and distort.
The terrifying thought entered her mind—she wasn't just aging, she was becoming something else... something lifeless.
She could almost feel her body stiffening, turning into a grotesque puppet, ready to join the legion of corrupted souls trapped in this cursed place.
With a sharp intake of breath, River acted quickly. Her hand flared to life, a brilliant, condensed golden light bursting forth from her palm.
The warmth radiated through her, banishing the sluggishness that had gripped her body. The exploration team stirred as the golden light enveloped them, casting away the fog of paralysis and dread that had threatened to consume their very souls. But the relief was short-lived.
They knew well the terror of this place—the rule of survival. If the light was extinguished for more than five seconds, Nexus creatures would descend upon them, merciless and swift.
A shudder ran through River's body as the weight of that reality settled in. Five seconds was all it took for the darkness to devour them whole.
They pushed forward, entering the ruins of an ancient temple swallowed by the abyss. The air was thick with the scent of decay, and River's heart raced as they hurried to relight their lanterns.
As the flames flickered back to life, the dancing light revealed grotesque shapes scattered across the temple floor. River's breath hitched in her throat.
At first glance, they appeared to be human, standing eerily still—too still. Upon closer inspection, the truth was far more horrifying.
Looming before them were human-shaped toys, life-sized and disturbingly realistic. They stood as tall as the average person, their lifeless eyes gazing into the void, their faces frozen in expressions of fear, or perhaps despair.
These grotesque dolls weren't just toys—they were once drifters, corrupted by whatever evil had twisted this city.
Their clothes and features mirrored those of explorers who had disappeared into the darkness, never to return.
A sickening realization settled over River. These things had once been people, perhaps even from the same teams who had vanished.
"Is this how corruption manifests?" she wondered, bile rising in her throat. Had these people become trapped in their own bodies, their souls lost to the darkness?
They inched closer, lanterns trembling in their hands. River's scalp prickled with unease, and her heartbeat thundered in her chest.
Something was terribly wrong here. The oppressive silence grew louder until a sound broke through it—a faint, almost imperceptible footfall. Someone or something was approaching.
River spun, her lantern casting its pale glow into the yawning blackness. Emerging from the gloom was a figure—a man, or at least something resembling one.
He walked toward them with an unsettling calm, his face twisted into a wide, unnatural smile. He carried no lantern, no source of light, and yet he strolled through the void as though it were his domain.
"Thank the gods!" he exclaimed, his voice ringing out unnervingly loud in the silence. "I thought I would die here."
The exploration team froze, their instincts screaming at them that something was off. River's mind raced. No one should have survived this long in the darkness—not without light. Yet here he was, standing before them, unharmed.
Before anyone could react, River's body moved on its own. A searing beam of golden light shot from her palm, piercing the man's chest. His smile faltered, and his form began to distort.
His skin bubbled and sizzled as if burning from within. Inky black tendrils oozed from the wound, spreading like a viscous liquid over his body.
The man convulsed violently before collapsing into a writhing mass of black ink. From the pool of darkness, worms began to emerge, twisting and contorting as they reformed into the same human shape once more.
"Run!" River screamed, terror gripping her as she understood the true nature of the thing before them. This was no ordinary monster—it was a being born of the darkness itself, and her light only slowed it down. They weren't equipped to fight it, not yet.
The team scattered, sprinting through the temple ruins, their lanterns bouncing wildly as they ran.
River cast golden beams behind her sporadically, trying to hold the monster at bay and ensuring that the team was never without light for more than a few precious seconds.
Her heart pounded in her ears, and every step felt like a desperate race against time.
The path ahead had been cleared of Nexus creatures, thanks to the efforts of other teams who had purged this part of the darkness.
But the horror that pursued them was far worse than any Nexus creature. It was a remnant of the city's cursed past—a drifter who had succumbed to the corruption of the god of creation.
"Aren't you searching for the white-haired boy?" the monster's voice echoed through the darkness, unnervingly close.
River's blood ran cold. How did it know? The creature was toying with her, luring her deeper into the abyss.
"I know where he is," it continued, its voice slithering like poison into her mind. "He's with me, in the darkness. Come, join us. We're waiting for you."
The monster's words were laced with malice, and yet something about its tone suggested it believed every word. River gritted her teeth, refusing to give in to the dread swelling within her. She would find the boy, but not like this—not by walking willingly into the monster's trap.
The lightning above flashed with renewed intensity, lighting the sky with an eerie brilliance. For a brief moment, the temple and the surrounding darkness were bathed in white light, and the monster let out a guttural scream, its form warping as if in pain. It retreated into the shadows, disappearing as though it had never existed.
The team collapsed to the ground, their breaths ragged, their bodies trembling. River's pulse hammered in her throat, her fingers twitching as she clenched her fists.
"Are you guys okay?" A voice came from the darkness beside them.
River spun, her heart sinking.
--
"Damn it!" Riley muttered through clenched teeth, frustration seeping into every part of his being. He had spent days, weeks even, combing through every shred of information he could find about the mysterious disappearances, but it was as if the clues dissolved the moment he touched them.
Every lead had crumbled into dust, every path ended at a dead wall. His efforts felt like chasing shadows, each one slipping through his grasp just when he thought he had them.
He let out a low curse under his breath as he climbed into the carriage waiting to take him back to 23rd Donegal Street. The faint drizzle outside matched the brooding storm in his chest.
He had left his address with those he had questioned—just in case they stumbled upon any useful tips—but the sinking feeling in his gut told him it would amount to nothing. Nothing ever did.
The cobbled streets rattled beneath the wheels of the carriage, the lamp lights flickering in the misty evening gloom.
Donegal Street loomed ahead, and soon Riley stood before the heavy wooden doors of the Blackout Company. The familiar scent of aged wood and smoke greeted him as he stepped inside. He made his way directly to the captain's office, the weight of yet another failure pressing down on him with every step.
He rapped sharply on the door, waiting for the captain's gruff voice.
"Come in," came the muffled reply.
Riley entered, carefully removing his half top hat as he crossed the threshold. He placed his cane gently beside the door, its metallic click echoing briefly in the room before fading into the heavy silence. He took a seat across from his captain, his brow furrowed in thought.
"Good evening captain."
"Just call me Donovan."
Captain Donovan, a man in his fifties with steely eyes that seemed to have seen more than they should have, regarded him with a steady gaze. His office was dimly lit, the corners shrouded in shadow, giving the whole place an air of perpetual dusk.
Riley cleared his throat and began, his voice steady despite the frustration gnawing at him.
"After thorough investigation, I've confirmed that the students were indeed missing." He paused, the words hanging in the air like a damp fog. "However, the pattern of kidnappings began shortly after Mr. Markham's death.
It was reported that he fell from the roof of the classroom... after a sudden, violent gust of wind."
Donovan's eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned forward, his chin resting on steepled fingers. Riley pressed on, the theory that had been swirling in his mind solidifying with each word.
"I believe Mr. Markham may have been protecting the students somehow, keeping the kidnapper at bay. Whoever's responsible must have realized this and took him out first."
The room seemed to grow colder, the soft crackle of the captain's oil lamp the only sound. Donovan sat back in his chair, his face inscrutable, though a flicker of intrigue passed through his eyes.
"You've done fine work, Riley," he said finally, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder.
"And your deductions are sharp. If Markham was indeed preventing these abductions, then his death is the keystone.
We now have something more than just missing children—we have a direction."
Riley nodded, though the weariness of the case weighed heavily on his shoulders.
"I suspect," he continued, "that the kidnapper is someone connected to the school—a teacher, perhaps. Or maybe a parent, someone who would have access to the students but could operate without raising suspicion."