Grey awoke to a gurgling screech echoing in the distance. Black sludge gripped his skin; slowly creeping up his face, threatening to seep into his eyes as he pushed himself off the moist floor. In a panic he quickly swatted the sludge away, peeling a portion of skin off his face in the process, steadying himself as he rose. As he observed his surroundings, darkness around him pulsed, emitting sweltering heat which seemed to burrow under his flesh. His new location resembled a cave, its rough walls overflowing with a viscous black liquid. He made his way towards the wall, attempting to study it. The closer he got, the more the stench of rot permeated the air. He stumbled towards the wall, placing his hand on it. He traced the rocky surface, using his sense of touch to search for a support in the darkness.
'What a terribly suffocating atmosphere.'
Grey walked alongside the wall as his hand dragged across its rough exterior. Due to the increase in temperature, Grey struggled to breathe. He was forced to take rough, shallow breaths. After spending two or possibly more years in a tundra, he had become accustomed to taking in large amounts of cool air. His lungs could not do such in this environment however, it would take a while before they adapted to the scorching heat… time he wasn't sure he had. Grey winced in pain. On top of breathing being painful, he had not registered the fact that he had peeled skin off his face. His wound stung like hornets had burrowed into him.
"Ouch… something tells me I should stay away from that sludge."
Said Grey hoarsely, no one there to listen to bleak sarcasm. He tried to sigh but an odd strained quack came out instead. Considering the fact that he couldn't see, Grey decided to just rest his eyes as he walked along the wall.
"Man what should I do…? I'm gonna go insane…"
Grey laughed to himself, quickly realising the implications of his situation. He was going to die. Alone. In the dark. Probably of heatstroke. Grey grimaced at the thought. There were no visible sources of water, and unless he wanted to take a chance with the dark liquid, he was going to have to find water in the next three days, lest he meet his demise.
'Oh man… really how did I get myself into this?'
***
Grey plunged his arm into the tar, crushing the core of the oddity standing before him. He bared his teeth, suppressing a scream as his flesh was torn apart inside. After a couple of seconds which were a dreadful eternity to Grey, the creature went unresponsive, its absorbing surface relaxing its grip on his arm.
'Hope is just another poison. No longer will it trickle down my throat'
Grey scowled as he pulled his arm back, wincing in pain as the flesh tore off his arm, strips of tar still clinging onto him. He suppressed a scream. He wasn't trying to be stoic, rather he was too afraid to make a sound. The cavern was teeming with these blobs of black tar, and if Grey entered their proximity they would lash out at him. He spent a long time observing these blobs with visible cores, something that the other ones didn't have, and so he came to the conclusion that these blobs of tar were holding the cavern together… probably. Therefore, Grey decided to "kill" these things. Could it even be called killing?
'Are these things even alive?'
Grey's right arm was mangled and maimed beyond repair at this point. He could barely move it without exerting his full force and pain shot through every time it moved. Only three more 'core blobs' were left, and Grey was willing to sacrifice his right arm if it meant escaping the damned place. Once again Grey scowled, preparing himself to endure the pain of his flesh being torn apart. Once was bad enough, but now he would have to repeat the process three more times.
'Really now… Hope is a flimsy thing, from now on I can only rely on logic.'
As Grey finished steeling himself, he walked towards the next blob of black tar, pulling back his arm, getting ready to crush the next core.
***
Grey fell and screamed until his throat bled. He had finally succeeded in destroying all of the core blobs, when he did a small crevice opened up in between each blob. The problem however, was that his arm was completely torn into pieces. The ivory white of his bones glistened in stark contrast to the darkness, his flesh dangling off like bits of rubber—clear tears flowing down his cheeks.
"Agh ack, hck!"
He tried whispering words of comfort to himself, but under the unrelenting agony of his wound, all that came out was incoherent nonsense. Tears clouded his vision, his throat dry and raspy, his arm mangled beyond repair, truly one could regard him as a tragic figure. He tried rising to stand, but the remaining strength in his legs had left him with flimsy husks incapable of supporting his body weight. He could not go anywhere and had nowhere to go. The room shook as pressure emanated from a large chasm between the core blobs, previously a small crevice. Naked, formless tendrils erupted from beneath the chasm. These tendrils, possessing no uniform shape, began to weave themselves into a larger creature. The dark nothingness stood out in contrast to the ivory white of Grey's bones and even the black environment around him. Grey's vision blurred as the tendrils' creative process blasted wind towards his direction.
By the time Grey regained his sight, the tendrils had finished weaving themselves into a blob-like mass, akin to the tar-slimes from before. Only this mass wasn't simply amorphous like the others, but had a defined spine and jaw, though lacking in any sharp features. The mass bellowed as if calling upon the tendrils, and the tendrils responded in kind to its invitation. More and more formless tendrils rose from the chasm twisting, bending, deforming, merging, to transmute themselves into weapons. Grey's jaw dropped as he watched in horror as suction cup-like limbs flew towards him.
'What the… I've got to move!'
But Grey's body would not respond to him. No longer could he articulate his limbs, his lungs were in pain trying to take in air naturally, with that there was only one possible outcome left for Grey… That was to be struck at full force by the tendrils. As the thought crossed his mind his chest caved in on itself. It was as if twelve freight trains crashed directly into him. He was knocked back and his head hit the floor with a loud thud. Reflective shards of glass poured out of Grey's forehead on impact, each containing a moment captured in time.
And then suddenly; tendrils whizzed above his head and gripped onto the reflective shards of glass. He could feel his conscious being deconstructed as the memories were plucked directly from him. Unbearable pain streaked across his head, a mental attack was something he could not guard against, not even in the slightest. As Grey's conscious began to fall apart, he managed to squeeze out one more thought, unrelenting against his apparent fate.
'Those are my memories… Mine!'
An insatiable avarice corrupted his final thoughts as the boy faded.
'Your memories. They'll be mine too, just wait!'