Finding Darkness

Episode 3

It’s been an agonizing week since they vanished. A week of relentless pursuit, driven by a raw, primal fear that gnaws at my insides. I lost the trail two days ago, the heavy, incessant rain washing away any trace of their trucks. Now, I stick to the only road I can think they would have traveled, a desperate gamble against the odds. My shoulder hasn’t stopped screaming since the shot, a dull, throbbing ache that spreads through my entire upper body. I’m sure it’s infected; the angry red streaks crawling from the wound are a grim confirmation. And the antibiotics? The ones I painfully shot myself up with aren't doing a damn thing. A surge of frustration tightens my jaw. Why aren't they working? I push the thought away. I just need to keep moving.

But that's getting harder with every step. I haven't slept in three days. My vision blurs at the edges, my limbs feel heavy, each muscle fiber protesting. I’m running on fumes, pure adrenaline, and the phantom echo of Elpis’s name in my ears. I won’t be any good to them if I collapse out here. I’m wrestling with this brutal truth when a flicker of something catches my eye in the driving rain: a small building, a hunched silhouette, some distance off the road.

"Might as well stop and get some sleep," I rasp, the words dry and gravelly in my throat. "Plus, I’m done walking in this damn rain."

I push through the thick, muddy ground toward the structure. It’s barely a building, really. More of a derelict shed, leaning precariously as if held together by sheer stubbornness and a prayer. Its tin roof is rusted, the wooden walls warped and rotten in places. I’ve definitely been worse. And it will serve its purpose—a temporary reprieve. I kick open the sagging door, a blast of damp, stale air hitting me, and heave my pack onto the dirt floor. My body is a live wire of pain and exhaustion, but I manage to carefully lay myself down, my head hitting the worn canvas of my pack. Consciousness slips away the moment my eyes close.

"It’s all your fault." The voice, cold and familiar, slices through the swirling darkness.

"I really don’t want to have this conversation with you again," I sigh, though the sound feels heavy, hollow. My surroundings solidify. I’m standing on the shore of a vast lake, but the water isn't water; it’s a thick, viscous black goo, shimmering with an oily sheen. The air is heavy with a cloying scent, like decay and stagnant despair.

"Where am I?" I ask, my voice sounding distant.

"It’s all your fault she was taken because you are weak," the voice continues, echoing across the viscous surface of the lake. It doesn’t answer my question, never does. "You try to keep me caged up, deny my existence, but you know you can’t hide from me. Not anymore."

I can’t see who is talking to me, but I don't need to. I know. She's right. I have been denying her, denying this part of myself. The darkness that always haunts me, the cold, ruthless efficiency I keep locked away.

"You’re right, it is my fault she’s gone," I admit, the words bitter on my tongue. I can’t deny that crushing fact. "But I am not weak! I will get them back, and I will do it without you. You will stay in your cage, do you hear me? Forever."

"You need me." The voice hisses, closer now, a venomous whisper right by my ear.

"I’m done with you!" I try to run, to flee this suffocating void, but my feet won’t move. They’re stuck, sinking rapidly into the sludgy, black water. The more I struggle, the faster I sink, the oily goo climbing my legs, threatening to engulf me. Panic flares, hot and sharp. I have to get out of this. I grasp at nothing but air, my hands flailing, desperately trying to keep myself from going under.

Then, a strong, warm hand grasps mine, pulling with incredible force. I’m yanked upward, out of the dark, suffocating water, and suddenly, I’m standing in the middle of a vibrant, ethereal garden. The air is clean, sweet, filled with the intoxicating fragrance of countless flowers. Blooms of every imaginable color surround me, their petals shimmering with an otherworldly glow. I take a tentative step onto a winding path of smooth, pearlescent stones. The path leads to a large, ornate fountain at the garden’s center. The fountain seems profoundly familiar, yet I don’t ever remember seeing anything so magnificent. Above its base, carved from white marble, a mountain rises, and it’s from its peak that crystal-clear water cascades down, pooling into the basin.

I walk up to the fountain, drawn by an unseen force, and peer into the sparkling water. My reflection stares back, and I gasp. "Whoa, is that really me?" The woman in the water isn't the exhausted, scarred survivor I know. She’s regal, ethereal, clad in a beautiful lavender dress that flows around her like gentle waves in a breeze. Her long hair, usually a messy mass of tangles, is intricately woven with blossoms adorning it, framing a face unmarred by worry or pain.

"Of course it is you." A deep, resonant male voice speaks from behind me.

I turn, my heart giving a strange leap, and see a tall, powerfully built man standing there. He’s wearing a dark grey suit that fits his broad shoulders perfectly, and he’s looking at me with a tender, knowing smile. This man is huge, easily towering over me. He has dark, slightly wavy hair that frames a sculpted, olive-skinned face, flawless and striking. But it’s his eyes that truly captivate me: hazel like mine, but infused with a brilliant, molten gold. We simply look at each other, neither one speaking, a profound silence stretching between us. I know this man. A deep, unsettling recognition stirs within me, a memory trying to surface from a forgotten past.

"Who are you?" I finally ask, my voice a whisper.

"Who I am is not important at the moment," he replies, his voice like rich velvet. "What is important is that you need to prepare yourself for who you will face."

"Who I will face?" I question, a chill touching my spine.

"Yes, the one that will destroy this world." His golden eyes hold a profound sorrow.

"The one that will destroy this world?" I scoff, a flash of my usual cynicism returning. "Don’t you think the world is already being destroyed? Why do I have him to face? There are others—"

"You are the only one that can face him," he interrupts, his voice firm, leaving no room for doubt. "Soon, your powers will return, and you will need them. You will need to save this world, to save your daughter."

"My daughter?" A cold fury starts to simmer, replacing the awe. "What does any of this have to do with her?" I demand, stepping back, agitated that he knows of Elpis, a sacred secret.

"She is the key to it all. You need to find her before he does." He closes the distance between us in a single, fluid stride, his large hands gently grasping my shoulders. His touch is warm, reassuring, yet carries an immense, subtle power. "When you remember who you truly are, Mina, this will all make sense. You need to go do what you set out to do, my daughter." He leans down, presses a soft, paternal kiss to my forehead, and then the garden dissolves, melting into shadows.