He could see it now, that silhouette of an eye carved into the sky, cloaked in gray and black. Drooping down were the glimpses of its eyelashes, so long they seemed like spikes in the sky. Somehow, this thing controlled the day and light cycles of the Island; knowing that now didn't make a difference, but it was something to take into account.
Taking a look through the shattered window, he scanned the edge of the forest only a few miles away. From there, he could only partially see the outline of trees and bramble; everything else, his mind filled out to become a hazed image of monsters lurking. But eventually, it wouldn't need to, as they stopped at the tall black figure that crawled from the darkness and sprang to its feet. With no way of knowing where it was looking, Gryce still knew that the moment he'd noticed it, it'd noticed him as well. Without a chance to think, the large being was waving its hand in the air, the image morphing into a memory as bells began to ring in the crowded street of King's Talon, one of the many hands of Solomon's Reach. The girl bundled up in six, no maybe seven layers, and still shivering, piercing through that mindless crowd, a blurred image that only became clearer as he approached her.
It was one month before Gryce was sent through the pearly gates, time for coronation, the shedding of mortal clothing, and for a select few who had proven themselves to be granted their red cloaks. It was a very important event; all parents dreamt of their kids one day walking down the path of fire and being born anew, and of the possibility of visiting Ichemound.
The girl's name was ****. Two weeks after she'd be found hanging from a tree, Gryce was the first to find her and the one who brought her down, ruled as an unfortunate suicide. If only he hadn't seen the scratches. The sight of the red cloaks carrying her away imprinted into his mind, carving a scar into his soul. But as he thought back, everything went wrong on the coronation, when the ceremony was interrupted, and the clouds grew gray.
"Do you think we'll find a good spot to see the coronation?" Gryce asked. Alongside ****, they followed the crowd of drones toward the shore of King's Talon. The religious men would use the same platform to cast others away and to bring more to their ranks. The Pearly Gate was always in sight.
"I wouldn't count on that," **** said, looking off into the distance. She was right; it seemed unusually crowded that day for an otherwise standard event, even some odd characters in the mix of peasants that gave shrewd looks and scattered whispers that pierced through the crowd. There was one character that stood out from the rest, and out of everything that day, Gryce remembered it vividly. Remembered it vividly.
Hidden in the cramped alleyway between two houses, only a strand of light touched her chest and what she carried against it. Her legs glistened with an odd glare as the sun shifted just slightly down enough to see that the gray gown she'd worn was sopping wet. It was only her lower half, however, as everything else upward only had strands of darker spots, and all at once it hit him as his eyes met her stomach and the glistening baby she held in her arms. It was so unbelievably calm; he was sure what she was carrying was a corpse; it didn't cry; it didn't squirm, in this harsh climate, anyone would, but this baby was awake, and its eyes were focused and wide. The kid had undoubtedly just been born; they hadn't even had the chance to cut its umbilical cord, but despite all the evidence to the contrary, Gryce couldn't help but feel that what he was looking at was a grown man. Those eyes, there was not a shred of innocence, only contempt.
"Don't make it obvious, but I want you to look to the right." Gryce focused his vision forward, only catching glimpses in the corner of his eye.
"What am I supposed to be looking at?"
"That baby in the alleyway, you can't miss it". It took only a few more seconds for her to react as a wave of goosebumps traveled up her neck, and she held her stomach.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm alright, I just felt sick for whatever reason".
"Just try to ignore it, whatever that is, it's none of our business, alright?" Gryce shifted their position so that he was closer to the alley than she was. There was nothing they could do at that point besides continue each painfully slow step as the crowd slowly made its way toward the beach. Eventually, Gryce would be right next to them. His heart grew cold, his breathing becoming shallow and inconsistent. Why was he so scared? Why was the world closing in? What was this thing? His head had unconsciously moved to the right; they were looking directly into each other's eyes, and while Gryce wanted nothing more than to run and hide, all it did was a smile with such perfectly white, straight teeth you'd think they were dentures. It was amused, it was amused by his fear, and it made every attempt at taunting him, shedding whatever guise masked its appearance as scattered wrinkles appeared across its skin. As the memory faded, there was a realization that struck Gryce as all sound became mute; the thing's eyes weren't on him.
He wasn't sure how long it'd been going on for, but at some point, he'd grown used to the shadowed being waving. Didn't seem like it had any intention of moving, not yet at least. With its size, it would catch up to him in an instant, so trying to run away wasn't an option either. All he could do was sit there, either idly, waiting for anything really to happen.
"This isn't helping anything." He stood up and begrudgingly took his eyes off it and onto whatever remained inside the building, which wasn't much. Seemed more like a shed than anything; only a bed and a stool could fit comfortably inside — the bare necessities, really. He didn't hold hope of finding anything, but began looking anyhow, and not too long after landed on a note underneath the pillow.
To those who find themselves just as I, alone, confused, and desperate for company, salvation lies far away. But it exists. In my years of being here, I've seen traces of them being here, traces of them, footsteps only, but they were there. This place tends to screw with your mind; the fumes from the ground pollute your lungs without you knowing, and eventually, you'll die from the plague. It doesn't take long, so hopefully whoever finds this note makes better decisions than I and takes that walk, no matter how dangerous it might seem. Not everything on this land is what it seems; in ways, it's much simpler than how life was before. And your first lesson is the dark figure you'll see waving; you've been leaving him hanging for a while now, haven't you?. It's only kind to wave back.
He turned to the right, and still the black figure continued waving its hand with just as much enthusiasm as when it started. Gryce, in a slow ascent, stood up and walked outside; the tall figure following him throughout, and with a simple gesture, Gryce raised his hand and waved. Satisfied, it continued onward and disappeared back into the forest, waiting for the next greeting.