Mateo Cruz Steps Out of the Dark
845 Words
Mateo Cruz stood in the doorway like a shadow pretending to be a man.
Tall. Thin. Hair streaked with gray. Clothes rumpled, as if he’d slept in them—or never slept at all. His eyes were the worst part: hollow, sunken, ringed with exhaustion, but burning with something sharp and feverish.
Recognition.
Obsession.
Devotion.
“Marisol Reyes,” he said again, voice low and reverent. “You look just like her.”
Tomás stepped in front of the girls. “Stay back.”
Mateo smiled faintly. “Tomás. Still playing protector. Still pretending you understand any of this.”
Ana whispered, “He’s unhinged.”
Sofía trembled. “He’s been listening to it for years.”
Marisol’s heart pounded. “Why are you here?”
Mateo stepped into the room, the shadows behind him shifting like they were following him—or guiding him.
“I’ve been waiting,” he said softly. “For the archive to choose again. For the cycle to turn. For the last archivist to awaken.”
Ana muttered, “Nope. Absolutely not. We’re leaving.”
But the door behind Mateo slammed shut.
Hard.
The shadows thickened.
Mateo didn’t even flinch.
“You opened the stories,” he said, eyes fixed on Marisol. “You woke the watcher. You did what your mother could not.”
Tomás’s voice was sharp. “Isabel stopped it. She saved this town.”
Mateo’s smile twisted. “She delayed it. That’s all. The watcher cannot be stopped. Only completed.”
Marisol felt cold spread through her chest. “Completed?”
Mateo nodded. “The cycle. The offering. The archivist must be given to the watcher so the stories can end.”
Ana stepped forward. “You’re insane.”
Mateo ignored her.
He took another step toward Marisol.
“You feel it, don’t you?” he whispered. “The pull. The connection. The watcher has chosen you.”
Marisol shook her head. “I didn’t choose it.”
“You didn’t have to,” Mateo said. “It chose you the moment you were born.”
Sofía gasped. “What does that mean?”
Mateo’s eyes softened—almost pitying. “Isabel was pregnant when she became archivist. The watcher marked the child. Marked you.”
Tomás’s voice cracked. “That’s a lie.”
Mateo tilted his head. “Is it? Did she ever tell you why she hid the notebooks? Why she locked the room? Why she kept the pendant away from the baby?”
Tomás’s jaw tightened.
He didn’t answer.
Marisol felt the floor tilt beneath her feet. “Papá…?”
Tomás swallowed hard. “Your mother wanted to protect you.”
Mateo smiled. “From your destiny.”
Ana grabbed Marisol’s hand. “Don’t listen to him.”
But Marisol couldn’t look away.
“Why did you betray her?” she whispered.
Mateo’s smile faded.
“I didn’t betray her,” he said softly. “I tried to save her. I begged her to give herself to the watcher. To end the cycle. To spare the town.”
Tomás stepped forward. “You tried to hand her over.”
Mateo’s eyes flashed. “I tried to fulfill the prophecy.”
Ana scoffed. “Oh my god, he thinks he’s in a cult.”
Mateo ignored her.
He looked at Marisol with something like awe.
“When she refused,” he said, “the watcher took her anyway. But it wasn’t enough. It needed the archivist willingly given. It needed the cycle completed.”
Sofía whispered, “So you’ve been waiting for Marisol.”
Mateo nodded. “The last archivist. The final offering.”
Marisol felt the pendant pulse violently against her chest.
“No,” she said. “I’m not an offering.”
Mateo stepped closer.
“You don’t have a choice.”
Tomás moved to block him.
Mateo raised his hand.
The shadows behind him surged.
They slammed into Tomás, throwing him across the room.
“Papá!” Marisol screamed.
Tomás hit the wall hard, collapsing to the floor, dazed but conscious.
Ana lunged at Mateo.
The shadows caught her mid‑step, freezing her in place.
Sofía screamed.
Mateo didn’t even look at them.
His eyes were locked on Marisol.
“You belong to the watcher,” he whispered. “You always have.”
The pendant flared.
Light burst from it—bright, sharp, blinding.
Mateo staggered back, shielding his eyes.
The shadows recoiled, shrieking silently.
Ana fell to the floor, gasping.
Tomás pushed himself up, clutching his arm.
Sofía crawled toward Marisol, terrified.
The pendant glowed brighter.
Mateo stared at it, horrified.
“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no—she wasn’t supposed to activate it yet.”
Marisol stepped forward, the light growing stronger.
“You’re wrong,” she said, voice steady.
Mateo shook his head violently. “You don’t understand—”
“I’m not the watcher’s offering,” Marisol said.
The pendant pulsed like a heartbeat.
“I’m its enemy.”
The shadows screamed.
Mateo screamed with them.
And the library exploded with light.
- Writer
