********
Clay's breath stuttered, shallow and fast. The thing with no face but a gaping, lipless mouth scuttled toward him, small and twitching, yet deliberate in every movement. Its damp hands latched onto his chest, climbing him like a spider on its prey.
"No—" His voice cracked. He tried to shove it off, but his arms felt like stone, too slow, too heavy.
Cold fingers seized his jaw and forced his face forward. Then the mouth opened.
Not one mouth—many. Rows upon rows, nested within each other like a nightmare spiral, each lined with teeth that pulsed and churned like grinding gears. A sound rose, a hollow sucking that made Clay's stomach twist.
And then he felt it.
His skin tugged first, flesh dimpling inward as though invisible threads were being pulled from him. Then deeper—the pain tore past nerves, past bone. Clay arched, every muscle locked, his eyes rolling white as he screamed without breath. Something inside him was being ripped away, pulled strand by strand into that infinite maw.
His body hollowed. His veins burned. His chest rattled. He could feel himself thinning.
The sucking grew louder. His vision whited out.
And then—black smoke.
It hissed from his eyes, his nose, his mouth, a stream of shadow escaping his body. The smoke poured into the monster, filling its insatiable throat. It choked, gagging, but still it fed—greedy, frantic—until its tiny frame began to swell grotesquely.
The thing rose off the ground, bloated, twitching as if overstuffed. Then—SNAP—its mouth clenched shut. The smoke writhed, tendrils slashing outward like black tentacles. With a sickening crack, they whipped and flung the creature, smashing it into a car with a metallic shriek.
The smoke coiled back, curling lovingly around Clay's limp form. It lifted him gently, wrapping his joints in shadow, forcing his body upright. The boy who had collapsed was now a figure standing tall, animated by darkness.
Across the lot, the monster peeled itself from the dented car, wheezing. Its eyeless face twitched toward the smoke. Its trembling body stilled—then straightened with feverish hunger.
"...More," it rasped, voice wet with need. Its jaw unhinged again, inhaling hard. Air pressure shifted—gravel, papers, even dust ripped toward the vortex. The smoke shivered, Clay's body dragged step by step toward the gaping maw.
But Clay didn't resist.
He let himself be pulled closer—then, at the last instant, his arm snapped forward, plunging deep into the creature's gut.
The monster jerked, confused, yet continued to pull—until something tugged back. Its swollen torso convulsed. With a violent heave, it gagged, hacking out Clay's arm in a torrent of hot air that blasted him across the pavement.
Clay's body flipped mid-air, landing on its feet with unnatural poise. His hand gleamed. He was holding something—small, radiant, pulsing like a trapped star.
The monster staggered, eyes widening in recognition. Its voice hissed with desperation. "...Mine."
It readied another inhale.
Clay's outstretched arm burned with black smoke. The vapor thickened, condensing along his grip until it twisted, hardened, shaped itself. A blade.
The weapon took form piece by piece, smoke clinging and sharpening until a black sword emerged—its hilt crowned by a leering skull.
In his other hand, the glowing core pulsed like a living heart. Clay pressed it to the weapon. The blade drank it greedily, swallowing the light until it throbbed with stolen fire.
The creature froze. For the first time, it trembled. A suffocating pressure rolled from the weapon, thick enough to make the air quiver. Instinct screamed at the monster to run.
Clay's body moved. Not rushed—inevitable. He rotated the blade in one smooth arc, then swung down.
The air itself howled.
But just as the strike carved forward, a gust of wind—sharp, deliberate—shifted its path. The trajectory veered, snapping into control.
Even so, the cut was monstrous. Cars shrieked apart, pavement cracked like fractured glass, a building corner sheared with a groan of concrete and steel. But the devastation stopped there, as though some unseen hand had trimmed away the excess.
The creature wasn't so lucky. The redirected arc still found its mark, cleaving the abomination in two. Its body sagged, silent, before crumpling to the ground.
Clay's head snapped toward the gust of wind—just in time to see a fist cut through the blur.
Crack.
His skull snapped sideways, pain blooming white-hot. Another fist followed, a clean two-piece across his jaw. Clay tried to bring the sword up in defense, but the third strike buried itself into his diaphragm. His lungs seized; air exploded out of him.
The blow launched him skyward.
Above, a coiling tornado of wind caught him, spun him like a ragdoll, then spat him downward. His stomach lurched as the ground raced up to meet him—only for a final fist to crash into his jaw mid-descent, slamming him through a crumbling wall.
Dust. Silence.
Then, from the haze, two figures stepped into view.
A girl rolled her shoulders, cracking her knuckles before sliding into a southpaw stance, chin tucked, eyes sharp. Across from her, a bow hovered midair, its string taut with invisible tension, the air around it trembling.
The boy touched down lightly beside her, gaze fixed on the rubble. "This kai…" His voice carried certainty. "There's no doubt. It's what we've been looking for."
The girl gave a short nod, fists tightening. "Then we neutralize it. Fast. Before anyone else picks up."
The rubble groaned.
Black smoke slithered out like serpents, lashing toward them. The girl weaved back, swaying past the first two tendrils, but the third nearly grazed her face—until the bow's string thrummed. A sudden gust ripped across the battlefield, scattering the smoke.
Clay burst free, sprinting low through the haze, sword poised to cleave. His eyes were hollow but burning, movements jagged yet growing sharper.
"On it," the girl barked, already closing the gap.
The fight exploded into motion. The girl pressed with relentless fists, each strike fast and punishing, while the boy curved the wind around her, carrying her movements and covering her blind spots. Every jab came with a sudden push of air, every dodge aided by a gust that nudged her clear of the blade.
But Clay was learning. His swings grew tighter, timed to their rhythm. His legs smoked with black haze as he slid under a punch, wrapped the smoke around the girl's ankle, and yanked her off balance. With a surge, he leapt onto her back, using her body as a springboard to launch at the floating bow.
He swung.
The bow fired.
Sword met gale. The clash ripped the air open, shockwaves slamming outward. The boy was hurled back, spinning, but he twisted midair and slammed a palm to the ground. A burst of wind cushioned his fall, flipping him upright. From there he whirled, body moving like breakdance footwork, each spin unleashing compressed gusts that cut toward Clay.
Clay slashed them apart midair, black arcs shredding through invisible blades of air. The clash rang like steel on steel.
But the girl had recovered. She lunged, grabbing Clay's legs mid-spin. With a grunt, she wrenched him down, slamming him into the pavement hard enough to crater it. She dropped on top of him, fists flying, each punch landing with brutal thuds.
Clay's head snapped back, blood flecking from his mouth. His vision rattled.
Until something inside him tore loose.
"AAAHHHHHHHH!"
The scream wasn't just sound—it was force. Black smoke erupted outward in a violent shockwave, hurling the girl off him. She spun midair, flipping, before the bow whipped a gale beneath her to slow her descent. She landed crouched beside her brother, chest heaving.
Clay staggered to his feet, sword dragging, smoke curling around him like armor. The siblings exchanged a quick glance, then surged forward in unison.
The three collided.
Fists cracked, steel sang, winds roared. And then, in a blur, the boy slipped behind Clay, locking his arms tight around his neck.
"Now, sis!" he shouted, straining against Clay's thrashing.
The girl lunged, fist cocked back, ready to end it—
Clay snarled. His sword turned inward. And he drove it into his own chest—straight through himself, straight into the boy behind him.
The boy's eyes went wide. His grip faltered.
"Shoto!" the girl screamed, her face contorted with panic.
Her fist came down with everything she had.
Bang.
*********
The first thing Clay felt was cold.
A sharp sting crawling up his bare chest, biting into his skin like frost.
His eyes blinked open. Darkness. Or… not quite. There were faint points of light, blinking in and out across the void. Stars?
Wait—space?
He tried to move, only to feel straps digging into his wrists and ankles. He was seated, bound to a chair, his torso exposed. His breath quickened as the reality settled in.
Then he saw her.
A girl. Standing in front of him, watching with wide, awkward eyes. She wasn't saying anything—just holding something in her hands.
Clay followed the line of her arms, down to the hilt she gripped tightly.
And froze.
A blade.
Buried in his abdomen.
The scream tore out of him before he could stop it.
"Ah—! What the hell—?!"
"Hold still!" the girl snapped, her voice shaky but determined. She planted her boot against his chest, using him as leverage, and yanked at the sword.
"Wait—stop, stop, STOP!" Clay choked out, thrashing against the straps as pain shot through him.
A calm voice came from somewhere behind her.
"Put your back into it."
"I'm trying!" she shouted back, teeth gritted. "He keeps moving—"
Clay's mind reeled, every nerve screaming in panic. "Where the hell am I? Who are you people?!"
"Just a sec—I think I've got it," the girl muttered, tugging harder.
She didn't.
With a final slip, the hilt ripped from her hands and she stumbled backward, landing hard on the floor. The chair toppled with her momentum, and Clay crashed sideways, his head slamming against the ground.
Stars exploded across his vision—different from the ones blinking overhead.