His parents were slaughtered before Arches' very eyes. And the killer made sure Arches saw every brutal detail.
Mom... Dad...
The rain fell in torrents, a relentless, unyielding downpour that seemed to wash away all hope. The heavens themselves were weeping. It was the kind of weather that mirrored the tragedy that had struck, as if nature itself mourned. The heavy clouds pressed down on the world, turning everything into a blur of gray, and the cold, biting wind swept through the landscape with a sorrowful wail.
Arches stood frozen, his breath caught in his chest as he stared at the bodies of his parents. They lay in a grotesque silence, their once vibrant forms now just lifeless husks. His father, tall and broad-shouldered with dark eyes that had always seemed to see through to the soul, was sprawled on the cold stone floor, his strong frame broken, a cruel mockery of the man who had once been his protector. His mother, petite and graceful, with raven-black hair that shimmered even in the darkest of rooms, lay beside him. Her amber eyes, which had always been warm and welcoming, now stared blankly at the ceiling, and her mouth, which had often broken into soft smiles, was now frozen in a rictus of horror. Blood pooled beneath them, staining the once-pristine floor.
Arches' heart seemed to stop in his chest. His limbs felt like stone, his mind unable to process the scene before him. His parents—their warmth, their love, their very presence—had been ripped away in an instant. His breath came in shallow gasps as he tried to comprehend the impossible. He wanted to scream, to run, but he couldn't. His body was paralyzed by an invisible force.
The killer's voice cut through the air like a blade. "You're next," he whispered, his tone cold and flat, devoid of any emotion. It was as if the words were the simple declaration of a fact, not a threat.
Arches' eyes snapped to the figure standing before him. The killer was tall, cloaked in shadows, his face obscured beneath a hood. His presence was suffocating, a darkness that seemed to swallow the very light around him. There was an aura of malice that radiated from him, an unnatural chill that seemed to freeze the air itself. His eyes, pale and cold, locked onto Arches with a predatory gleam. And then he smiled—if one could even call it that. It was a twisted, cruel smirk, the kind of smile that suggested nothing but pain and death.
Arches could hardly breathe as the figure stepped closer, his movements smooth and unnerving. The killer's voice was like ice scraping against stone as he spoke again. "You've seen it, haven't you? The futility of your existence. The fragility of your life. You can't escape what's coming for you."
Before Arches could even process the words, before he could even scream, the killer's hand shot out with inhuman speed. It closed around his throat, freezing cold, and his body was lifted off the ground as if he were a ragdoll. The blade came next—its sharp edge glinted in the dim light before it buried itself deep into Arches' chest with sickening precision.
The pain hit him like a thunderclap, an explosion of raw agony that tore through his body. It was as though his chest had been set on fire, every nerve screaming in protest as the blade twisted inside him. Arches' vision blurred, and his legs gave out beneath him. He gasped, unable to draw in air, the weight of the pain threatening to crush him.
His heart pounded furiously, every beat a battle against the growing cold in his chest. His body wanted to give up, wanted to surrender, but something deep inside him fought back, his will struggling to keep him alive.
It hurts so much...
And then, in an instant, everything shattered.
Arches' eyes flew open, and he gasped for air, his body jerking upright as if waking from a nightmare. Sweat drenched his skin, and his heart hammered in his chest, the echo of the pain still lingering like a shadow. He looked around, disoriented. The familiar walls of his room surrounded him. The weight of the nightmare hung in the air, thick and suffocating.
It was just a dream, he thought desperately, but the fear still clung to him, as real as the pulse racing in his veins.
His mother's voice called from downstairs, warm and comforting as it always was. "Arches! Dinner's ready—wake up already!"
Arches flinched at the sound, his heart leaping in his chest. For a moment, he couldn't tell where the nightmare ended and reality began. The line between the two was blurred, twisted together in a haze of fear and confusion. He stumbled out of bed, his body shaking uncontrollably, drenched in sweat.
Thank God... he whispered under his breath, the words barely audible. He wiped the sweat from his brow, but the terror didn't release its grip on him. His heart raced, each beat a reminder of the nightmare's cruel grip.
He stumbled toward the kitchen, his legs weak, as though the ground beneath him was unstable. The warmth of the house should have offered comfort, but instead, the shadows of the nightmare clung to him. The silence was oppressive, and the weight of dread he couldn't shake gnawed at him from within.
Why would I have such a horrible dream?
He couldn't shake the unease. The memory of his parents' bodies—so vivid, so real—was still fresh, seared into his mind. It wasn't real, he told himself. Just a nightmare.
He reached the table, forcing himself to sit, but his hands trembled as they gripped the edge. He tried to smile, but it felt like a mask, hollow and empty. He pretended everything was normal, but the nightmare had left its mark, and no matter how much he tried, he couldn't escape its hold.
Just a dream... Arches repeated silently, his fingers curling tighter around the table. Move on. Move on...
Later, as Arches closed his eyes again, he saw a figure. It was shadowed, a dark silhouette that seemed to pulse with malice. The creature's eyes gleamed with an unholy light, burning with a hatred that seemed to radiate from the very air. The words it spoke were laced with venom, thick with malice.
"You are next."
The words sank into Arches like a knife, and a cold shiver ran down his spine. He opened his eyes, his heart pounding. His entire body was filled with a sense of dread, a fear so intense it made him feel as though his very soul was being crushed.
What was happening? Why couldn't he escape the horror that clung to him like a second skin?