Return to Chestme

Chapter 7: The Den

The glistening stalactite bars seemed to pulsate, casting twisted shadows across the damp grotto floor. Mirranda's obsidian eyes gleamed in the dim light, a testament to her Spiderling heritage. Timothy's body shook as he peered through the cave bars. The faint glow of microbial life on the ceiling only added to the ominous atmosphere, revealing glimpses of the Darklings lurking beyond sight. Deep down, the group knew that the bandits were not entirely Westerian, and the thought terrified them.

Mmuz and Syperion peered through the hanging bars, their breaths quickening at the sight of seven gnarled, woodgrain hexagonal crates leaning against the damp grotto wall. As Glenoids of Chestme, they had been sheltered their whole lives from the outside world. The legends of Darklings had reached their ears and always made them quiver. They'd heard Darklings were bloodthirsty killers and seductive creatures that lurked in the night, preying on unsuspecting victims. The mere thought frightened them more than their tyrannical lizard lord, Nimmod.

Timothy's screams pierced the eerie silence of the cave system and Mirranda frantically covered his mouth with a gentle hand. "Hush, my love," she whispered, her eyes darting. Timothy couldn't contain his fear as Mirranda's hand slipped away. The Darklings in the shadows were toying with them, casting glares and silhouettes on the grotto walls. Their eyes glowed and blinked through the dark, redder than the most obscure ichor, a stark contrast against the creature's pale skin whenever light hit them.

Samson's pointed ears perked, catching the rhythm of the Darkling's closing in. He detected the faint whispers and knew they were running out of time. The rhythmic tapping of their footsteps grew louder and closer.

Timothy's figure curled tight against the damp stone, his shaking breaths came as he sobbed. A shadow emerged from the darkness, its red eyes glinting with hunger. The boy screamed but it became drowned out by the chilling laughter of the bloodthirsty Darkling. The beast saw the boy as just another victim in a long line of mortals he'd slain in the past. Another addition to their herd, more bodies to claim as thralls. Timothy's screams, a cry from a child, so innocent and pure. It didn't matter that he was just a boy. No, the child's innocence was just a mere enticement, fueling their insatiable thirst.

"Hush, my little Saphiid," Mirranda whispered, her hands gripping his trembling body. She leaned in close. "We must be silent now. Can you do that for me?" As he nodded, his fear-filled eyes locked onto hers, Mirranda's lips drew into a warm smile.

Timothy's screams turned to whimpers, his small fingers clawing desperately at the hem of her tunic. Mirranda turned from Timothy and saw the twisted faces of the creatures prowling like animals outside, their desires reflected through the torchlight. Their depraved intentions loomed over the group.

"Good boy," she praised and stroked his hair with one hand while tracing a finger down his cheek with the other. Her heart beat erratically as she turned to Samson, her husband. Mirranda longed for the comfort of his strong arms.

Samson, known for his bravery, met her gaze with fear. His hand found hers and he gripped it tight. They had faced darkness before, but never had it been so suffocating. His lips curved into a bittersweet smile, his admiration for her undiminished even as the sound of their captor's voices grew louder.

"Are we harvesting them yet?" One called out...

The very idea of their son being harvested for his blood, subjected to unspeakable terrors beyond his young mind's comprehension, sent a primal fury coursing through Timothy's parents.

"Tonight," the leader drawled, pacing before them like an alpha wolf, "We will harvest them."

"If you lay a finger on any one of my family, I'll make sure you all see the light of day again," Samson spat back, his voice rippling through the heavy air.

"Brave words for a man behind bars," the leader retorted.

In the gloom, Mirranda's eyes locked onto Samson's, their shared history a silent symphony in the midst of the Darkling's leering gaze.

"Remember how we first met?" she whispered, her breath hitching as she relived the memory. "How you ran to meet me at the gate to Hilltop?"

"I'll never forget it," he breathed, the recollection a balm on their situation.

"Let's close our eyes, just for a moment, and go there," she suggested, her weariness weaving a fragile dream amidst the nightmare.

She crawled onto Samson's lap, relishing in the warmth and safety he provided. With her eyes closed, she let herself drift away from their dark prison to Hilltop, where their love first bloomed. It was here that Mirranda found solace in the steady rhythm of his heart beating against her cheek.

"Open your eyes," the leader commanded, shattering her escape and waking Timothy. "Soon we shall feast!"

Mirranda's heart raced with fear. "Whatever comes, my love" Mirranda said, blinking her eyes open. "We face it as one."

Samson held her close, whispering. "Until the end."

"I love you." She whimpered.

"I love you too..." Samson returned as they kissed, and Timothy clung closer to them.

Mmuz and Syperion squatted in front of the family, ready to fight. "Take us first!" Mmuz commanded.

"Ah, but Darklings don't go after the cold blooded," The leader sneered with a sinister grin. Mirranda and Samson shared one final kiss, not knowing if it would be their last...