ELDRITCH NIGHT (Rough Draft)

Chapter 37: Fuel on the Fire

I turned the photo over and pushed it across the table. My finger lingered on the photograph for several seconds. I was unable to let it go. I'd done so once before; I'd let her go, and I'd always regretted my decision.

"This is bullshit. Liv has never even left South Carolina," I said. "How could she have anything to do with anything? She's a girl, not some space terrorist or eldritch cultist. I'm not going to let you turn me against my friends."

"Your loyalty is commendable, Mr. Finn," Sebbit said. "My own daughter speaks highly of you – a courtesy that even I rarely receive."

He picked up the metal canister, looking at it before setting it on the center of the table. I had no idea what it was. It was roughly the same size as a tube of tennis balls. If anything, the display and the odd protrusions made it look like a cliché sci-fi bomb from a Hollywood prop department.

The captain pressed down on the three protrusions and the canister split open down the center. A cold mist rose up from the canister obscuring anything that lied within. As the cloud dissipated a small round object was revealed.

"What's this?" I asked.

As I looked at the object I saw it twitch. It was a ball of black, leathery material riddled with veins and tumorous growths. Every few seconds it would pulse, releasing a thick stream of a familiar energy.

Not only did it seem alive, it was somehow creating eldritch energy.

"This object was retrieved from one of the cultists that ambushed my soldiers. What is most concerning, to me, is that its existence on this planet predates the eldritch event that predicated Hegemony intervention."

I simply sat there watching the beating heart. I could feel the thick streams of energy that poured out of it with each spasm. The energy was much thicker than anything I had ever felt. I had to force myself to stifle an instinctive urge to reach out and manipulate it.

Some deep part of my mind responded, desiring to consume the energy and make it part of ourselves. Myself.

The energy quickly filled the room, and I felt as if I was swimming in muck that clung to me and threatened to pull me deeper into it like quicksand. The grey paint on the walls began to peel and warp, as if time and entropy had been sped up.

I reached out towards the energy but pulled back in disgust.

It felt much more active and volatile than the reddish black energy I was used to working with. As it caressed my skin, trace amounts of the energy would seep into my pores, filling me with a sense of hatred for the living.

Whatever this heart belonged to had died terribly, and I could still feel it calling out for vengeance.

My arms and torso shook and sweat began to pour down my face.

My face paled, and I could feel the contents of my stomach beginning to rebel. I pushed the energy away, and Sebbit snapped shut the canister with a deafening bang that reverberated between the walls of the narrow concrete room.

The energy didn't immediately dissipate, instead lingering as a literal cloud of malaise.

I reached up to touch my face and ran my thumb across the stubble before placing my hand over my eyes. I couldn't get the emotions out of my head.

"Aah," I said, finally breaking free from the spell. "What the hell was that?"

"Hmm..." Sebbit vocalized. "As I said, this object was taken from a cultist. A human that murdered several highly trained Peacekeepers. I shouldn't have to tell you how difficult that should be for any citizen, let alone a tier four citizen armed with primitive weaponry."