Tonight's the night
Yesterday had been anything but ordinary. It had set my nerves on edge, leaving behind a restless unease that clung to me like a second skin.
The uncertainty gnawed at me, a slow, torturous decay. Did Father Gideon know? The Watchers remained statuesque, their hollow eyes betraying nothing. Father Gideon carried himself with the same unwavering calm, a shadow of a smile always lingering at the edges of his expression.
Maybe this was his game all along—no outright confrontation, no sudden moves. Just the slow, methodical unraveling of my sanity. Letting the paranoia fester, watching as it consumed me from within until there was nothing left but an empty shell.
But Elias—Elias hadn't come back last night. I had lain awake in the suffocating dark, every creak outside our shack sending my heart racing, every gust of wind whispering nightmarish possibilities into my ears. Had they already taken him? Slit his throat in some candlelit chamber while I lay useless in bed, waiting for a brother who would never return? Or had something else happened—something I couldn't even begin to fathom?
The lack of answers churned inside me, a hollow pit of dread that only deepened with each passing hour. Now, I sat in the camp's center, forcing down what would be my last meal in the Risen's camp. I chewed slowly, the taste of stale bread and watered-down stew turning to dust in my mouth.
A bitter thought curled in my mind—whatever else this cult was, however twisted their rituals, they at least fed their people well. It was almost ironic. They nurtured you, cared for you, made you feel like you belonged… until the day you were deemed worthy of the knife.
Tobias and Talia were doing their part—scouting, gathering supplies, preparing for a future I wasn't sure we would ever see. They were following my orders to the letter, yet a gnawing doubt clawed at the edges of my mind, whispering that it was all for nothing.
That no matter how much we planned, how many precautions we took, the walls of this place were higher than we could ever climb. That the unseen forces lurking in the shadows already knew.
So I sat there, pushing the last few bites of my meal past my lips, chewing without tasting. My stomach felt full, yet empty at the same time, the food settling like a stone. I had spent so long surviving that I had forgotten what it meant to simply eat without the weight of impending doom pressing against my ribs.
And then—"Hello, Rowan. Enjoying your meal?" The voice slid into my ears like silk, smooth yet suffocating. My body tensed before I could stop it, my grip tightening around the wooden spoon in my hand. I already knew who it was before I turned my head.
Father Gideon stood beside me, his presence an immovable monolith, a shadow stretching over my form. His expression, as always, was calm—kind, even.
The ever-patient shepherd tending to his flock. I forced myself to meet his gaze. "Hello, Father Gideon," I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil brewing inside me.
I hesitated, mind racing through possible ways to maneuver this conversation without raising suspicion. Finally, I forced a small nod. "And yes, I'm enjoying it. I'm grateful, truly. For everything you've done for me… and for Elias." The words felt foreign in my mouth, but I coated them in sincerity, hoping he wouldn't hear the strain beneath them.
Father Gideon smiled. It was warm, reassuring—yet it sent an icy shiver down my spine." Oh, it's nothing, my child. The Risen dutifully care for their members. After all," his voice dipped lower, like a lullaby meant to soothe, but instead, it suffocated. "We're all family here." Our eyes locked, and in that instant, the world around us seemed to still. A sudden, crushing weight settled over me, heavier than anything I had felt before. A nameless, suffocating dread.
He knew.
And he would fucking end us before we even had the chance to breathe, before our feet could so much as graze the path to freedom. There would be no last-minute dashes, no desperate struggle through the darkness—only silence, swift and merciless.No.Maybe I was just imagining things. Maybe the fear twisting itself into knots inside my gut was nothing more than paranoia. Maybe the weight of Father Gideon's presence, the suffocating intensity of his gaze, was a trick of my exhausted mind."Yes, Father Gideon. Now, if you'll excuse me, I should get back to my chores."The words slipped past my lips too easily, smoothed over with a carefully crafted mask of obedience. I even forced a small smile, though it felt wrong—like stretching the skin over a wound, like trying to hold together something that was already splitting at the seams. But as I looked into his eyes, I knew. He saw me. Not the mask, not the empty words, but the truth—the despair roiling beneath the surface, the unspoken secrets clinging to my bones.He knew."Of course, Rowan," he said, his voice light, almost amused. "After all, there's only so much time in the day."And then—he winked.A small, effortless gesture. A moment so simple it could have been mistaken for casual affection. But to me, it was anything but. To me, it felt like a snake tightening its coils, like venom on the tip of a fang, waiting—just waiting—for the perfect moment to sink in.---The rest of the day unraveled like a fever dream. After my conversation with Father Gideon, the world blurred at the edges, tilting on an axis I could no longer control. Each breath was a battle, shallow and uncertain, as if the very air had turned against me. Elias really told him. The thought dug its claws into my mind, an unrelenting whisper of betrayal. Any lingering hope that my brother—my real brother—was still somewhere beneath the obedient shadow he had become was dead. The boy I had grown up with, the one whose heart had once been untainted by the rot of this world, was gone. Now, there was only this hollow-eyed version, hovering at Father Gideon's side like a starving dog waiting for scraps.As the sun surrendered to the horizon, dusk bled into night, swallowing the last remnants of warmth. Darkness stretched its arms wide, an unspoken promise of freedom—so close I could taste it, yet so distant it felt like a cruel jest. Every second that passed coiled tighter around me, anticipation turning my pulse into a war drum. I had to be ready.Father Gideon wasn't expecting the escape yet. He believed it would happen tomorrow. I told myself this over and over again, clutching onto the frayed edges of hope as if sheer will alone could make it true. But if he had even the faintest suspicion, if he placed just one Watcher on our trail, it would all be over before it even began. This had to be fast. A single moment, a sliver of opportunity—and maybe, just maybe, we'd have a chance.I found Elias at our shack, unaware that time had betrayed him. He still believed he had another day—another sunrise between him and the moment of truth. And yet, standing there, I still didn't know how I would make him see, how I would pull him back from the abyss he had chosen. The brother I had spent my life protecting, the boy I had shielded from the world's cruelty, now looked at me as if I were a stranger. No, worse—as if I were the enemy.I studied him in the dim glow of the lantern, searching for traces of the boy I once knew. The softness in his eyes had hardened into something I barely recognized, twisted by forces I couldn't undo. His innocence had been burned away, leaving only ash.Desperation crept into my bones, pressing against my ribs like a vice. I whispered a prayer—not to Father Gideon's god, nor to any god I had ever known, but to the nameless forces that might still listen. Let us leave. Let us slip through his fingers before it's too late.What a joke. There was no salvation in whispered words, no divine hand to lift us from the shadows. I had only myself. And I would not fail. Not now—not ever.The shack's frail door groaned, the sound ripping through the quiet like a blade against stone. My breath stilled. Then, through the threshold, Tobias and Talia stepped into the dim light. Their presence shattered the fragile moment, pulling me back into the weight of reality.It's now or never.We exchanged a silent nod, an unspoken vow passing between us. This was our last day here—one way or another. Tobias and Talia carried a quiet acceptance that almost unsettled me, as if they had already made peace with whatever fate awaited us. I wasn't sure if I had.Slowly, I turned to Elias. He stared back, eyes clouded with confusion, his mind still a step behind the moment. He doesn't know. Not yet. Not truly.I took a breath, steadying myself. "Elias, I know this might seem sudden, but… we're leaving." My voice was firm, but not unkind. "The camp, Father Gideon—all of it. One day, it'll just be a chapter of our lives, something we can leave behind."I stopped, searching his face for a flicker of understanding. Nothing. The silence stretched between us like a fragile thread, but I pushed forward."Elias," I tried again, softer this time. "My brother. I know things have been rough between us, but I can't leave you behind. I won't. Not here. Not in this place."For the first time, something shifted in his expression. His confusion deepened, his gaze flickering between me and my two companions. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, but steady."Brother… why do you want to leave so badly?" His brows furrowed, his fingers curling at his sides. "Don't you see? This is our way out. Out of the slums, out of the suffering. Here, we have a chance."His words struck something in me, a raw wound I had tried to ignore. He truly believed this. That Father Gideon's promises meant freedom. That this life was a gift, not a cage.His next words sealed it."So no, I don't want to leave. And you shouldn't either."A heavy sigh escaped me, the weight of inevitability pressing down on my chest. I had hoped—desperately—that it wouldn't come to this. But the moment had arrived, and I had to be ready for what came next.I braced myself.