The night was thick, a dense shroud that swallowed sound and sight alike, casting the world in shades of black and muted silver. Down an abandoned, cobblestone alley, a lone figure walked, each step a whisper against the silence, their form barely discernible from the shadows themselves. They moved as if belonging to the darkness, each motion fluid and quiet, like a ripple in still water.
"Another night," they murmured, a low voice colored with both scorn and a strange, almost wistful edge. The words fell into the empty air, swallowed by the night as if it had been waiting to devour them.
They ascended a winding set of cracked stone stairs, each creak underfoot softened by the city's faint background hum. Memories, as ancient as the stones themselves, seemed to rise unbidden, brushing against their consciousness like ghostly fingers. There was something bitter there, a twisted nostalgia—sharp edges worn smooth by time, yet still able to cut.
Reaching the top floor, they stepped through a weathered door into a dim room, furnished with little more than shadows and silence. Crossing to the small balcony, they leaned against the rail, letting their gaze fall across the city's skeletal skyline. Faint smoke still drifted in the air, curling and twisting into the night from a far-off smoldering fire. But there, amid the ruin and decay, something else caught their attention.
Across from them, through a cracked window, they saw it—the sleeping form of a girl asleep on a worn mattress, a thin blanket wrapped around her like a cocoon. From this distance, she was barely more than a fragile outline, yet they saw every detail with startling clarity: the subtle tension in her brow, the barely-there part of her lips, the curve of her fingers curled against the sheet.
"So fragile…" they muttered, an unsettling mix of disdain and longing coloring their voice.
The figure's gaze lingered, tracing the soft lines of her form, noting each breath, each flicker of movement as if memorizing them. She looked…out of place here, like a single fragile bloom daring to survive in a field of ash. Yet something in the way she clutched the blanket, in the faint crease of her brow even in sleep, told a different story.
"Little does she know," they whispered, words a quiet thread of thought that drifted into the night, "how easily the world could change for her."
There was something possessive in the way their gaze held her, a spark that lit in their eyes as they looked upon her sleeping form, stirring memories better left buried. Something stirred—a resentment, perhaps, or an ache that had never quite healed—and for a moment, the dark silence seemed to grow thicker, as if even the night itself had recognized the intensity of that gaze.
A sharp ring cut through the silence, vibrating with urgency. The figure's eyes never left the sleeping girl as they slipped a hand into their coat pocket, fingers brushing the cold metal edge before lifting the phone to their ear.
"Yes?" they answered, their voice a low murmur, barely louder than a breath.
The voice on the other end crackled, masked by static yet laced with impatience. "Did you find it?"
Their gaze sharpened, narrowing on the girl's sleeping form. She was still, her breathing deeper now, calm—a stark contrast to the chaos that lay just beyond her walls. As if, somehow, she could sense the presence, as if some part of her unconsciously sought comfort in the watchful, unseen gaze that lingered on her.
Their lips curved faintly, an almost wicked smile that hinted at secrets and promises. "Yes," they replied softly, eyes tracing the gentle rise and fall of her chest. "It's…within reach."
A quiet laugh escaped them, more an exhale than a sound. "Strange how even in sleep, some souls reach for the dark. Or perhaps they simply know to whom they belong."
The voice on the other end paused, considering. "And what do you intend to do now?"
They watched as a shadow brushed across the girl's brow, a fleeting frown as if she were caught in a half-formed dream. The faintest flicker of satisfaction stirred within them.
"Oh, I'll wait," they replied, their tone both resigned and resolute. Afterall Patience had always been their greatest weapon, he had nothing but time —a patient predator bound by desire and shadows
The other voice scoffed, a humorless sound. "Then don't lose sight of the goal. This city is already on its knees. We've made certain of that."
The figure's gaze darkened as they took in the fractured skyline, a city beaten and bruised under a weight it hadn't been able to withstand. And yet, amid the ruins, there was one light, one unsuspecting soul, untouched by the desolation.
The call ended, the line falling into dead silence. They lowered the phone but didn't move, their gaze fixed on the girl as though drawn by an invisible thread. For now, they'd stay in the shadows, biding time. The city may have crumbled, but she hadn't And that was what they intended to change —slowly, painfully, with a quiet resentment that festered in the shadows, a restless ache that gnawed at their very soul.
In the end, she'd be her own downfall, a piece of her strength turning to dust with every step closer to them, unraveling like a forgotten memory, until there was nothing left but the emptiness they'd left in her wake.