It was a cloudy, muted day, and gym class felt like a drag more than usual. The overcast sky seemed to press down on me, adding to the weight I was already carrying. I leaned back against the bleachers, watching the girls as they ran laps around the field.
My eyes followed them absently, but my mind was elsewhere, focusing on the constant gnawing sensation deep inside. No matter how much I ate or slept, I couldn't shake it. The hunger. The emptiness. It was like I was being hollowed out from within.
I flexed my hands, staring down at my fingers, the lines of muscle along my forearms. I knew I was different now. Stronger. I could feel it in my bones, in the way my body moved, fluid and controlled.
I'd tested it, bending a half-inch rebar like it was a soldering wire, and walked halfway across the city from home to school, to the library, and back without breaking a sweat. The bus and subway were no longer necessary; my legs could carry me farther and faster than I ever thought possible. And yet… I was still exhausted. It was the gauntlet—I knew it was feeding off me, draining me even as it made me stronger. It demanded something, and nothing I had given it so far was enough.
Across the field, my gaze settled on Gwen. She looked… different. More athletic. Her frame had become leaner, her movements more powerful, more confident. Muscles had developed along her arms and legs, and her whole posture seemed to radiate a sense of purpose, of strength.
It was almost strange to see, and I found myself wondering what she had done to change so much. It wasn't just her appearance; it was something deeper, something in the way she held herself. A quiet power.
The thought flashed through my mind: I could still outpace all of them. Even feeling as drained as I did, I could probably lap the entire field and leave them all in the dust. But then that exhaustion hit again, a wave of weakness that made me grip the bleacher a little tighter. No matter how much power the gauntlet had given me, it was always hungry, always draining, like a parasite latched onto my soul.
Last night, I'd tried to satisfy it. A bloody ribeye steak, rare, the juices almost spilling out of it as I ate. But it wasn't enough. Instead of satisfaction, I'd felt queasy, instinctively aware that it wasn't what the gauntlet needed. It wanted something alive, something pulsing with energy. Only life would satiate it, feed the darkness within it.
"Nothing can be gained without first paying the equivalent price."
The phrase echoed in my head, taunting me, a whisper from some dark corner of my mind. The price had to be paid, and it was a price I was ready to accept.
"Parker, you okay?"
I blinked, snapping back to reality to find my PE teacher looking at me with a raised eyebrow.
I nodded, forcing myself to stand. "Actually, I don't feel too great," I said, doing my best to sound sincere. "I think I need to see the nurse."
He looked at me skeptically but shrugged. "Fine. Go on."
As I turned to leave, I heard Flash's familiar, mocking laugh. "What's wrong, Parker? Can't handle a little running? Pussy," he sneered, loud enough for everyone around us to hear.
I didn't even look at him. My lips curled into a slight smirk as I walked away, already planning. He'd pay soon enough.
As I walked through the empty hallway toward the lockers, I felt a thrill course through me, sharper and colder than anything I'd felt in months. I knew Gwen's locker combination; she'd used the same numbers since we were kids.
Opening it was easy, and there, nestled among her things, was her phone. I picked it up, feeling the cold metal against my hand, and quickly typed a message, a cruel little plan forming in my mind.
I hit send, then placed the phone back exactly as I'd found it. The stage was set.
---
Later that Day
The final bell rang, and the students flooded out of the building, eager to escape the confines of school. But not Flash. He had received a text from Gwen during gym, one he clearly hadn't expected. Something about needing "stress relief" before her show tonight. It was no secret that Flash had tried to worm his way into her life, and now he thought he'd finally succeeded.
Flash strolled down the hall, swaggering as he approached the equipment room, anticipation written all over his face. He stepped inside, expecting to see Gwen, expecting… well, I could only imagine the twisted fantasy he'd spun in his mind.
The plastic sheeting covering the floor must have thrown him off at first. He stopped, a frown creasing his brow as he looked around, his eyes narrowing. That's when I moved, stepping out from the shadows, a length of PVC pipe in my hand. At the end, two exposed electrical wires sparked slightly, a crude but effective weapon.
"What the—" Flash started, but I didn't give him the chance to finish.
The current shot through the pipe, the wires crackling as they connected with his chest. He let out a strangled yelp, his body convulsing as the electricity coursed through him. He stumbled, legs giving way as he crumpled to the floor, twitching, his face twisted in pain and confusion.
Before he could regain his senses, I shoved a rag into his mouth, muffling his screams. His eyes went wide, panic setting in as he realized something was horribly wrong.
He struggled, tried to thrash, but I held him down, my strength far beyond anything he could resist. The power from the gauntlet coursed through me, steady and unyielding, and I reveled in it, felt it fuel my resolve. I could almost feel the gauntlet urging me on, pushing me toward the edge.
After a few moments, his body went limp, the fight drained from him. He was still conscious, barely, but weak, dazed, his eyes fluttering as he tried to process what was happening.
I moved quickly, tying his wrists and ankles with thick rope, securing him in the center of the plastic sheeting. Around him, I'd drawn symbols, crude and jagged, the lines etched into the tarp with charcoal and chalk. They looked ancient, sinister, symbols from the old tome, symbols that would make this ritual complete.
I stood back, surveying my work, and took a deep breath. Flash lay there, bound and gagged, his eyes wide with terror as he tried to scream, the muffled sounds barely reaching my ears. And I… I felt calm. Focused. Like I was finally doing what I was meant to do.
In my hand, I held a small cage, and inside it, a crow fluttered, its dark eyes darting around, its feathers glistening in the dim light. I looked down at it, a strange mix of pity and regret settling over me.
"I need your help little buddy," I murmured to the bird, my voice soft. "I hope you can forgive me and one day, we can be friends."
The crow stared back at me, unblinking, as if it understood what was coming.
I turned my gaze back to Flash, watching him squirm, his muffled cries growing more desperate as he realized just how helpless he was. He didn't know what was happening, didn't understand why he was here. But that didn't matter.
I crouched down beside him, meeting his terrified gaze, and felt a cold smile spread across my face. "You, on the other hand," I said softly, my voice a low, dangerous whisper, "I have no care whether you want to help me or not."
As I looked at him, his face twisted with fear and confusion, I felt a surge of satisfaction, a thrill that I'd never known before. This was power—real power. The kind of power that couldn't be taken away, that couldn't be mocked or dismissed. And I was ready to wield it, ready to pay the price.
This was the beginning.