A noise from downstairs, like the ticking of my grandfather's old clock, woke me. I turned to my left and glanced at the bedside table. A pocket watch resting on it showed eight in the morning—time to get up. I rose from bed, slipped on dark blue trousers and a white sweater, and threw on a blazer that matched the trousers.
I walked to the bedroom door, which was to the right of the bed, opening it softly. My steps, light but firm, made the wooden floor creak, breaking the silence. I hurried down the stairs to the living room, where a table stood between the staircase and the sofas. Sitting at the table, I grabbed a piece of dry but soft bread. A mug filled with a brownish liquid sat before me. I took a sip, savoring the bitter taste of coffee. "Just what I needed," I thought reluctantly.
Footsteps echoed from upstairs. It had to be my grandfather—my grandmother had already left for work.
"Good morning, Edward!" a hoarse voice called from behind me.
A short man with white hair and a long, equally white mustache stood there, smiling at me.
"Good morning, Grandpa. How are you?" I asked politely.
"Couldn't be better, thank you," he replied.
I finished breakfast quickly, left the table, and stepped out of the house, waving to my grandfather, now seated on the sofa by the fireplace. It was winter; the cold bit at my skin, the gray sky cast little light on the street, and the gas lamps, still lit, glowed with a yellow hue that illuminated the road.
A thought struck me as I neared the street corner. The same figure from my dream was there, slowly licking its lips as if savoring a meal to come. My head throbbed, as if it might explode. I rubbed my eyes, hoping it was just a hallucination. When I looked again, the figure was gone, leaving no trace. It had to be a hallucination, but it felt too real to be a lie—strange, since I'd never seen it in dreams or nightmares before.
I ran to the intersection. Carriages passed by, some fast, some slow, depending on their purpose. There was no sign of the figure; I must have imagined it. I decided to visit Dr. Keppler. His office was on the next street, Luminous Square, a bustling, almost certainly the wealthiest part of Vicens.
I raced through the city without stopping. The fog wrapped around me like an uncomfortable embrace. Along the way, people passed by, waving, their dresses and coats fluttering in the cold, gentle breeze. There were several routes to Luminous Square, but some were best avoided—alleys filled with illegal trade or even prostitution. What would people think if someone saw me there? Best not to dwell on it.
Still running, I turned right at a corner, passing men's and women's clothing shops. "I should consider buying a hat and cane," I thought excitedly. But then, a small figure appeared ahead—a child, no older than ten, with empty eyes and a smile that didn't belong to an innocent. She stopped, staring at me, and whispered, "You'll be devoured piece by piece." Her laughter started low but grew, echoing in my head like nails on a chalkboard. She laughed so hard her mouth tore, stretching to her ears, blood dripping like red ink. The bloodthirsty child, her sharp teeth glinting, twisted her head fully around, the sound of snapping bones and tearing muscle ringing out with a wet crack. My heart raced; it was another hallucination, but the fear was real. I blinked, and she vanished, leaving only the echo of her laughter in the fog.
Out of breath, I reached Luminous Square. In the center stood an impressive, beautiful fountain. Children and adults sat, chatting with friends or family, or played in the square. Ahead, a sign on a wall read "Keppler," confirming I was in the right place. I opened the door slowly; a bell chimed softly, enough for an elegant, strikingly beautiful woman at the reception to look up with a smile. "First time seeing her; maybe the doctor hired a new assistant," I thought.
The entrance had only a wooden counter directly ahead. To the right, a cabinet likely for storing medicine or the like, and to the left of it, a door led to Keppler's office.
"Good morning, how can I help you?" Her voice was sweet and captivating; each word enchanted me.
"Good morning, I'd like to speak with Dr. Keppler, if possible," I said.
The woman, who seemed about thirty, with long, beautiful brown hair, stood and approached the door. She knocked twice and called out, "Mr. Keppler, someone's here to see you."
"Come in," a hoarse, fading voice echoed from inside.
I entered and greeted Keppler. A tall, bald, serene man sat in an armchair behind his desk, but his reaction puzzled me, radiating horror and doubt.
"H-How… is this possible… you… you died, Edward…"
"I died? This man must be mad," I thought.
"Are you trying to scare me, Doctor?" I asked.
"No, I clearly attended your funeral," the old man said.
"Then how do you explain my grandfather not mentioning anything this morning?" I asked, skeptical.
"Grandfather? Your grandfather died ten years ago, boy!"
It couldn't be. The morning felt so real, so normal. Had I lost my mind? Silence fell over the room, broken only by our faint breathing. I began explaining the dream I'd had that morning, the figure licking its lips. Keppler listened intently, his face hardening with each word. When I finished, he leaned forward, his sunken eyes fixed on me.
"Edward… this isn't normal," he murmured, his voice trembling. "I've seen things like this… people who return with shadows in their eyes. Your grandfather… maybe he knew more than he let on. If this happens again, run. It might be more than you think."
"More than I think? What do you mean?" I asked, my voice faltering.
"I can't explain," he said, rubbing his hands nervously. "But something brought you here, and it wasn't just chance."
Before Keppler could say more, a commotion erupted outside. Agonized screams filled the air. Suddenly, a towering creature, at least two meters tall, crashed through the window, glass shattering across the floor. The abomination rose, its eyes so red they seemed to burn with hellfire, staring at Keppler and me.
Its words were incomprehensible, drool dripping everywhere, acidic enough to dissolve whatever it touched. The beast grew erratic, lunging at Keppler with startling speed. Keppler, with surprising agility for his age, reached for something on his desk—a metallic object, perhaps a relic or ancient weapon, as if he'd faced this before. But the creature was faster. I tried to act, but I was weak… powerless. My body froze; I couldn't think of anything to help.
Tears streamed down Keppler's face as he was brutally torn apart. The smell of blood and the sound of bones snapping and limbs being ripped apart made me vomit uncontrollably. I had to escape, or I'd end up like Keppler. The creature turned its red eyes on me. Now I could see it clearly: its head seemed to be disintegrating, with two horns protruding from its forehead, making it utterly macabre. I couldn't make out its ears, nose, or mouth. I could hear what sounded like two hearts beating inside it.
It lunged, striking me with its arm, sending me crashing through the wall into the reception. The beautiful woman was gone, understandably, given the chaos. My heart pounded, my lungs gasping as the creature's image consumed me. I was about to die—I could feel its horns tearing my flesh, its acid burning my bones, my blood spilling as it devoured Keppler. It wasn't real, but it felt real, as if my mind screamed I was already dead, trapped in an endless nightmare. The walls spun, the screams echoed within me, and I knew it would come for me next, that I'd be torn apart. I had to move, to run, but my body trembled, paralyzed by the terror of those red eyes.
From outside, I heard rapid, precise footsteps. Suddenly, an overwhelming aura filled the room. A tall woman in a black cloak and breastplate appeared, wielding a sword nearly my height, but it didn't look like an ordinary blade.
I couldn't move; I could only watch. The impact must have broken some bones, and I was lucky to be alive. The woman unsheathed her sword with a slow, deliberate motion, the air trembling with an acidic, metallic scent from the blade. The abomination roared, its horns glowing red, and charged with renewed fury. The woman dodged narrowly, her sword slicing through the air, but the creature countered, striking her shoulder. Her cloak tore, but she raised her sword again, plunging it into the beast's leg. Dark green liquid sprayed, and the monster screamed, a sound that seemed to tear reality itself.
The creature didn't fall. Instead, it spun, its horns aiming for the woman, who leaped back, rolling across the glass-strewn floor. She stood quickly, her pale face sweating, and struck upward, severing one horn. The abomination howled, the sound reverberating, and charged, nearly impaling her. She spun her sword, blocking the attack, sparks flying as the blade clashed against the horns. For a moment, it was a stalemate—the beast pushed, its muscles pulsing, while she held firm, her arms trembling under the strain.
With a hoarse cry, the woman forced her sword upward, breaking free, and spun, slicing off the creature's other arm. Viscous liquid sprayed, burning the floor, but the beast still moved, dragging itself with terrifying speed. She took a deep breath, her eyes locked on the monster, and leaped forward with a powerful thrust. Her sword gleamed as it pierced the creature's chest, and with a precise, swift motion, she tilted the blade, tearing its chest apart. The beast collapsed like a plank. I covered my nose; the stench was so intense it nearly made me faint. The woman, drenched in the creature's green liquid, looked at me with a pale, serene face. Pointing her sword at me, she asked:
"Are you… the next one?"