The parking lot was quiet.
Too quiet.
The Sparrow sat exactly where we'd left it—wedged crooked across two compact car spaces. The night air was humid, Florida heat was eating our ass up.
We were thirty feet out when we saw her.
A girl stood next to the bike. Thin. Pale. Maybe ten years old, barefoot on the asphalt. Her dress was blue and frilly, a little too old fashion for Disney and ripped and scuffed like she'd climbed through fences wearing it. Her blond hair curled around her shoulders in messy, uneven waves. Her arms hung loose at her sides.
She watched us approach.
Then she sniffed the air—twice, sharply.
Her body tensed.
And before anyone could say a word—
She lunged.
She hit me square in the chest like a thrown cat. Something snapped forward from her hands—shk-shk—and suddenly I had claws in my ribs.
I grunted, hit the pavement hard, rolled instinctively. Blood bloomed through my shirt. Her claws slashed again, catching my arm this time. I felt them tear into me, two jagged arcs. But there was no hesitation in her, no panic. Just feral intent, the wound growing cold and numb, frost starts forming on my body.
I caught her wrists mid-strike. She snarled.
And that's when I felt them.
My mind reeled.
I'd only known one other person who had these.
Me.
My grip faltered.
She slammed her knee into my stomach. A blast of cold erupted across my chest. The ground cracked around us. Her claws glowed with frostbite as she pulled back for another stab.
"...You're my kid," I breathed, stunned.
She paused mid-swing.
"Duh," she said.
Then she punched me in the face, snarled, and stabbed me again.
Her claws went straight in between my ribs. My skin blistered from the cold.
I grunted, grabbed her wrist, twisted hard, and headbutted her clean across the nose.
She yelped, bit down on my shoulder, and gnawed.
My blood hissed against her tongue.
She recoiled with a choking gasp.
I saw it click in her eyes—my blood was poison. Acid to anything that wasn't me.
She spat to the side, got her hands in her mouth and ripped her tongue off and came at me again, screaming without forming words.
I roared back.
We slammed into the pavement.
Claws out.
Mine were longer and sharper. They punched into her shoulder and removed her arm as I rolled, trying to pin her down.
She regenerated.
We rolled again. Her claws scraped across my spleen. I stabbed her in the thigh. She howled and slashed at my throat. I blocked with my forearm, felt the arm tear and start to stitch shut before she even blinked.
It was wrestling for dominance.
Two apex predators trying to see who would submit first.
Her eyes were wide and wild. Ice crusted the corners.
"Stop," I hissed.
"Asshole," she spat a blue fireball in my face.
I grabbed her wrists, slammed her back-first into the parking lot concrete, and pinned her down with a full-body press, claws at her throat.
She thrashed.
I snarled. "Yield or your losing the head."
She froze.
Breathing like an animal.
Face flushed. Hair wild. One eye swollen.
But not beaten.
Her breathing slowed.
And then—
She licked blood from her split lip and grinned.
"You're strong," she panted. "I like that."
"Ahhh, thank you sweety."
She blinked.
Then, calm as anything, she said, "...Are you my dad?"
I didn't answer right away.
I was still bleeding when I stood up.
Not from anything important. Just a few dozen stab wounds, some frostbite, and what was probably a my stomach melting my internal organs. The usual.
Across from me, the girl crouched barefoot on the asphalt, wild-haired and grinning like we'd just played a really fun game of Murder Dad.
The others?
Still hiding behind a minivan, watching like it was a live animal attack.
Elia had her knife out. Rhea was peeking just barely over the hood. Bianca looked equal parts confused and horrified. Nico had retreated into a hoodie like a threatened turtle.
I raised a hand toward them in a very chill it's fine, I'm fine, don't stab the child gesture.
Then turned back to the girl.
"You got a name?"
She shrugged, licking a bit of blood off her thumb. "Not really."
I waited.
She shifted, arms loose, eyes bright.
"The Queen Mother called me her Crystal," she said finally. "Said I was her sharpest treasure. Her little ice gem."
Behind the car, I heard Elia whisper, "Oh gods."
I winced hard.
"Right," I muttered. "Gonna go ahead and dad-veto that one."
She blinked. "Why?"
"No daughter of mine is going around with a name that sounds like she headlines the Thursday shift at a Gentlemen's Club."
There was a stunned pause from behind the van.
"Lucas," Elia hissed. "What is wrong with you?"
I ignored her.
The girl blinked at me. "So what would you call me?"
I rubbed the bridge of my nose, still wheezing a little. "How about... Alice?"
She tilted her head, curls bouncing. "That sounds... Ok."
"Yeah," I said. "I chose it after all."
She considered it.
Then shrugged. "Okay. I like it."
I turned and waved at the others behind the van.
"Hey! Everybody! Meet my daughter—Alice."
Nobody moved.
Elia just stared, pale with rage. Rhea had both hands on her knees like she was trying not to pass out. Nico mumbled something about needing to lie down. Bianca looked vaguely ready to cry.
Alice smiled at them and gave a little wave.
"Hi."
She stood dead center in the lot, blood-smeared, dress torn, claws still out and twitching.
She sniffed again. Loudly. Then turned in a slow circle like she was cataloguing each one of them by scent.
Her head cocked hard to the left.
"Too many smells," she muttered. "Sweat. Ozone. Fry oil. Girl fear. You," she pointed at Elia, "you smell like wet dog."
Elia pointed her knife right back at her. "You need to back up."
"She's like you," Bianca whispered from behind the minivan. "But small."
"I'm not small," Alice snapped, turning in a whip-crack motion toward them. "I'm just... growing."
Nico made a squeaky noise and retreated a solid two feet behind his sister.
"Lucas?" Rhea called from behind the car, voice cautiously calm. "Is she going to kill anyone?"
I raised a hand. "No. Probably not. I think we're done stabbing for now."
"Promise?" Bianca asked.
Alice made a low huffing noise. "They are weak, no fun fighting the weak... unless they have the numbers to make it a good bloodsport."
"That's not—!" Elia started.
"Don't correct her!" I shouted, barely holding in a wheeze.
Alice's claws retracted with a faint snikt, and she shook out her hands like she was shedding tension. "Okay. I'm bored now. Can we eat something? I want meat. Something with bones to clean my teeth."
Elia stood up fully from behind the van and stared at me like I'd just handed her a live grenade.
"There's two of you," she whispered. "There's actually two of you now."
"Technically there might be more around, god knows my gene's are cursed."
Elia just walked away from the conversation and leaned against the van, muttering to herself in multiple languages.
Nico stepped out next, cautiously, staring at Alice like she was a trap.
"She's really fast."
"Yup."
"And she regenerates."
"Yup."
"And she bit you."
"She's family," I said dryly. "I bite stuff too sometimes."
And grinned at him.
He recoiled slightly.
Bianca walked out slower, keeping a solid ten feet of distance between herself and Alice, who was now crouching on the ground next to Sif's bag, sticking her hand in and laughing every time the giant wolf inside licked her palm.
Rhea came last.
Then she nodded once, weirdly calm.
"Okay," she said. "I can work with this."
Elia turned her head like it might spin clean off her neck. "You're okay with this?!"
Rhea shrugged. "We needed a chaos gremlin. Now we have two. Think of the tactical advantage, think of how I will use the two of them to become queen bitch of the Ares cabin."
Alice beamed.
"I like her."
I clapped my hands once. "Great. We're all friends. Nobody's dead. Let's load up and get out of Florida before something gets on our way again."
I swung a leg over the Sparrow, grunting as my half-healed ribs cracked into place.
Alice jumped on behind me like a giddy murder monkey, one hand already pawing through my backpack.
"You have snacks? Do you have a phone? Do you have games on your phone? What's this? Is this a tooth?"
"Don't eat that."
"I won't," she said—while clearly preparing to eat it.
Bianca and Nico climbed into the sidecar. Rhea followed.
Elia took a long breath, made peace with her gods, and got in last.
The Sparrow thrummed to life.
"Alright," I said. "Next stop: Camp Half-Blood."
Behind me, Alice leaned forward, her voice soft and just a little too excited.
"Do we get to kill something soon?"
The Sparrow rolled down Half-Blood Hill, finally coming home.
The morning sun glinted off the lake. Pine trees whispered in the breeze. The pine tree at the summit swayed gently, the Fleece still crackling with magic above it. From a distance, it looked exactly the same.
But it wasn't.
We crossed the boundary, grav plates humming, frost trailing from the back wheel like an afterthought.
Then I noticed it.
The leaves.
They weren't green anymore.
Not bright, summery, sun-soaked green.
They were rust-colored, coppery and crisp, swirling down from trees in little spirals. The air smelled cooler. Sharper. A breeze tugged at the hem of my jacket and didn't carry summer heat—it carried autumn.
Rhea narrowed her eyes. "Why are the trees turning?"
Elia stood up in the sidecar, squinting toward the cabins.
"Someone moved the archery range," she muttered. "And… that's new." She pointed at a fresh wooden shed near the forge. "That wasn't there."
Bianca rubbed her arm, looking unsettled. "Did we… take the long way?"
Nico, pale and silent, just stared at a group of campers passing by in jackets.
I cut the engine.
We all sat there in the silence for a second.
Then I said, "What day is it?"
No one answered.
A breeze carried a few brown leaves across the path in front of us.
Rhea slowly turned toward me. "Lucas… how long do you think we were gone?"
I swallowed. Looked toward the sky.
The sun was too low. The clouds were thinner. Even the song of the camp wards felt aged.
"…A while," I said. "Too long."
Elia stepped off the bike like she was stepping onto an alien planet.
Campers walked by without noticing us yet. Some were strangers—new kids. A few I recognized, but they looked different. Older. More tired.
Nico whispered, "Do you think it's been weeks?"
I shook my head.
"No."
And I knew. Deep in my gut.
"It's been months."
Alice looked up, one claw extended like a kid about to poke a power outlet.
Rhea let out a slow breath. "Okay. So… we walk into camp. We explain we're not dead."
Bianca blinked. "Then what?"
I looked toward the Big House.
"I guess we tell Chiron that I accidentally kidnapped two Hades kids, may have a frost-wolf daughter, and possibly violated international divine law."
Alice hopped off the bike behind me, stretching like a cat, then stared at camp like she was planning how to conquer it by lunchtime.
She whispered, "There are so many smells."
Rhea was already walking toward the Big House.
Bianca and Nico followed, slow and unsure.
Elia trailed behind with her head in her hands.
I looked at Alice. She looked at me.
Then she licked blood off her knuckle and smiled.
"Time to meet the Horse?" she asked while sniffing the air.
"Yeah," I muttered. "Time to meet Grandpa Horse."
We started walking.
Behind us, a few leaves blew by, crisp and cold.
Chiron was already waiting when we rolled into camp.
He stood in front of the Big House, arms crossed, eyes scanning us.
His gaze settled on Nico and Bianca, and something shifted in his shoulders—just a little. Like relief, or bracing for whatever was about to come next.
Chiron stepped forward.
"Well," he said, voice measured. "You've returned."
"Technically," I said. "That counts, right?"
He didn't smile, but his eyes softened slightly.
He moved toward the kids, slow and calm, like approaching deer.
"You must be Nico. And Bianca."
They both nodded, unsure.
Bianca glanced at me. "He's… safe?"
"Safest centaur you'll meet," I said.
Chiron shot me a look but didn't correct me.
He placed a gentle hand on their shoulders and guided them toward the Big House.
"I'll make sure they're settled," he said quietly. "There's room in Cabin Thirteen for now. And… they've been expected."
That stopped me. "They have?"
Chiron gave me a look that said we'll talk later.
Then he nodded at the rest of us. "Welcome back."
He led the kids inside.
As soon as the door closed, Elia muttered, "Well, that wasn't ominous."
I adjusted the strap on my bag and looked back at the path down toward the infirmary, the storage shed, the supplies depot.
"I'm gonna grab a few things," I said casually.
Rhea raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
"Just… stuff."
Elia crossed her arms. "That's not a real answer."
I gave her my best innocent face. "Camp stuff. Don't wait up."
Bianca popped her head back out the door. "Do you want help getting… whatever you're getting?"
"Nope," I said quickly.
She tilted her head. "What even is it?"
"Nothing important."
She squinted. "Then why'd you say it like that?"
"Because you're twelve, and I don't want to explain... stuff."
She stared at me for a second, then disappeared back into the house.
Rhea walked up beside me, arms crossed.
She sighed.
"Don't overdose on whatever-it-is."
I grinned and turned, heading down the path.
The supply shed was technically locked.
Technically.
I hummed a little tune and melted the latch with a bit of drool. The door creaked open, and the familiar scent of cedar, dust, salve, and godly trail mix hit me like a comforting slap to the face.
I stepped inside, eyes already locking on the prize.
Top shelf. Wooden crates marked with the old Greek for "Emergency Only."
That meant ambrosia and nectar.
Camp's divine-grade healing stockpile. Reserved for serious injuries and approved quests.
Or, y'know, whatever I was doing.
I pulled open a crate. There they were.
Ambrosia: golden-brown cubes wrapped in parchment.
Nectar: heavy ceramic bottles marked with wax seals. Pale. Luminous. Thick as cream.
I started loading them into my bag with the quiet focus of a man shoplifting god-snacks for righteous reasons.
Then came the voice.
"What are you doing?"
I froze mid-grab.
Turned.
Ares kid.
Big. Muscled. Bandana. Definitely trying too hard.
He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, chest puffed like he'd walked here looking for a bar fight.
"You're not authorized to be in here," he barked. "This is for actual quests."
I straightened slowly, still holding a bottle of nectar.
I was just opening my mouth to say something incredibly clever—
—when Alice appeared.
She crawled out from under the shelf like a spider, popped up beside me, and blinked at the Ares kid like she was sizing him up for stew meat.
He blinked back.
"Who the hell—?"
Alice punched him.
One clean shot, right in the jaw.
He dropped like a bag of bricks. Just bonk—thud.
Dead quiet.
She stared at him.
Then looked up at me.
Maintained eye contact.
And slowly, deliberately…
licked the side of his unconscious face, lapping the blood from her punch.
I blinked.
She kept eye contact.
"…Damn," I muttered. "You really are a mini-me."
Alice grinned, wiped her mouth on her sleeve, and casually started grabbing cubes of ambrosia like nothing happened.
I stepped over the Ares kid and opened another crate.
"Alright," I muttered. "Let's call this... unauthorized provisioning."
Alice was already chewing on a cube like it was a marshmallow.
"Can we rob the armory next?" she asked through a full mouth.
"Later," I said. "Priorities."
We kept packing.
CP Bank:0cp
Perks earned this chapter:None.
Milestones: None373Magus exploratorMay 23, 2025View discussionThreadmarks Chapter 39- E.T is not calling home.View contentMagus exploratorMay 29, 2025#2,574We regrouped by the Sparrow near the tree line, the sun filtering through yellowing leaves and casting long shadows across the gravel.
I was double-checking the supplies I'd stuffed in the bag—ambrosia tucked tight in waxed wraps, nectar sloshing faintly in sealed bottles.
Alice sat cross-legged on the sidecar's hood, chewing an ambrosia cube with loud, sticky enthusiasm, her claws drumming against the metal, she paused every few minutes to spit a glob of blood out. Rhea stood beside the bike, arms crossed, watching the forest. Elia adjusted the strap on her pack.
She wasn't armored up. Just a travel tunic, her hunting knife, and that look in her eyes that meant she'd already made up her mind before she ever walked over.
"I'm out," she said.
I looked up. Rhea blinked. "Wait, what?"
Elia shrugged. "This quest's dragging and you kinda sprung the the "second quest" on me. My sisters are still out there. I don't know where they went after the Hunt pulled out. Could be New England. Could be freaking Tunisia." She glanced at Alice. "Anyway… looks like you've got my job covered."
Alice licked her fingers, then raised one like she was about to ask a question. Instead, she said, "Can I keep your spot?"
"Be my guest."
I stepped forward. "You sure about this?"
"I'm not a camper," Elia said. "Never was. I don't do full quests. I drop in, stab things, and bounce. This one's yours now."
I didn't argue. Because she wasn't wrong.
She gave Sif one last pat on the snout. The big wolf let out a low boof in approval. Then Elia looked at me.
"Don't die," she said.
"No promises," I replied.
"Good."
She turned to Rhea. "You keep them out of trouble."
"Define trouble."
Elia snorted. "Exactly why I'm leaving."
And then she was walking—pack slung, head high, straight down the trail toward the border. Just another sharp-edged figure disappearing into the trees.
Alice watched her go, then casually shifted into Elia's usual seat on the Sparrow like she'd always been there. "I'm the scary one now," she declared.
"You are," I muttered, slinging my leg over the bike.
Rhea climbed into the sidecar, tucking her hoodie tight. I looked at the compass. It was jittering southeast now.
"Alright," I said. "Phase Two."
"Do I get to stab anyone?"
"Probably."
Alice grinned, teeth too sharp. Rhea exhaled through her nose. "Let's just find the book."
I revved the engine. The Sparrow growled. And we rode.
The Sparrow screamed down the eastbound highway. Leaves whipped past in blurs of orange and red. Asphalt blurred under us. The wind snapped at my jacket, the cold bite of October sharp against my face.
But I didn't care. Because I'd finally found the radio button.
The speakers crackled to life like an old god waking up angry, and suddenly—"Back in Black" roared across the New England countryside.
Alice whooped in the backseat, claws tapping out a beat on the frame. Rhea smirked, leaning back in the sidecar, mouthing along to the lyrics like she'd memorized the whole tracklist years ago.
I turned the volume up. Loud.
We were singing. Just for a few minutes, we weren't cursed or hunted or stitched together by war. We were just a girl with claws, a a tomboy with the blicky, and a half-feral demigod screaming rock lyrics into the sky like it owed us something.
Then the music cut.
A quick static chirp snapped us out of it as a calm, clipped voice slid over the speakers.
"This is WRLD—breaking update from the international wire."
The three of us didn't say anything. Just listened.
The voice continued, steady and cold: "Early this morning, coordinated explosions targeted the Bibliothèque nationale de France in Paris and the University of Buenos Aires in Argentina. Sources claim the attackers were affiliated with an Islamic extremist sect, though no official group has taken credit."
Rhea sat up straighter in the sidecar. My hands clenched tighter on the handlebars.
The voice went on: "Two dozen are dead. Hundreds wounded. Archives in both institutions—some of which were centuries old—have been destroyed or heavily damaged. Outrage continues to grow worldwide."
A pause.
Then the tone shifted—somber, reverent. "In an unprecedented move, religious leaders across the globe have called for calm. The Pope held mass at St. Peter's and condemned the violence. The Patriarch of Constantinople urged Orthodox followers to seek understanding, not vengeance. And the Sharif of Mecca issued a rare trilingual broadcast asking for peace, reconciliation, and prayer for the victims."
The static flicked. Then the music returned. Something slower now. Fleetwood Mac, I think.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
Alice's voice broke the silence first. Quiet. Not playful. "They're trying to stop the book."
Rhea nodded, eyes still locked on the horizon. "And they're not wasting time... damm"
I didn't speak. Just kept driving.
The wind had picked up by the time we hit the coast. The air was wet, salt-stung. Pine trees gave way to cracked docks and salt-burnt houses. Somewhere out there, the sea was chewing up the shoreline with quiet, ancient teeth.
Alice let out a whine from the backseat, loud enough to compete with the engine. "I'm huuungry."
I didn't turn around. "Yeah, yeah. We'll stop in the next town. You can get something that isn't a sacred cube this time."
"I liked the cubes."
"They were not for snacking, they are healthcare, and I need them to deal with the elder god."
"They tasted like blood sausage."
"Eww."
Rhea muttered, "She's got a point, lets not annoy the other chaos gremlin."
"I will throw both of you into the bay."
Alice let out a satisfied little growl and turned her attention to the roadside. She leaned over the edge of the Sparrow, claws scraping a rhythm on the metal frame.
Then she perked up. "Ooh! Food town!"
I glanced up ahead—and saw the weather-beaten plaque nailed into a crooked wooden post.
"Welcome to Innsmouth."
The letters were carved deep and stained dark, like they bled when it rained.
Something hissed in my brain. A memory.
Rhea leaned forward slightly. "Lucas—"
"Nope," I said instantly.
I reached for the throttle and twisted it hard. The Sparrow let out a growl of fire, veering left off the main road and straight past the entrance to town.
Alice blinked. "Wait—Innsmouth had diners."
"Yeah," I said. "And cultists. And fish people. And Dagon."
Rhea's eyes narrowed. "You know, not everything in this world is a monster."
"Yeah," I shot back, "but Innsmouth definitely is, I'm not fucking the fish people."
The sign vanished behind us as we tore through the next exit.
Alice pouted behind me. "I wanted fried fish."
"You would've gotten fish, Alice. Possibly still chanting curses at us."
She hissed like a gremlin and curled tighter in the seat.
A few minutes later, we passed a sleepy little town with a gas station and a diner with a cartoon owl on the sign. I pulled in.
"You've got ten minutes," I said. "Pick something normal."
Alice hopped off the bike, eyes glinting.
The diner smelled like grease, coffee, and something vaguely lemon-scented that had long since surrendered to the smell of everything else.
Rhea nursed a cup of bitter black coffee like it owed her money. Alice had both knees up in the booth and was halfway through a double cheeseburger, eyes gleaming with every bite. I sat across from them, peeling the paper off a grilled cheese that was somehow already soggy.
For a second, we could've passed as normal.
Until Alice opened her mouth.
"So I was a princess back in Faeland," she said casually, chewing with her mouth open. "Personal executioner to Queen Mab. Pretty big deal."
Rhea looked up, one eyebrow raised. "You?"
Alice nodded, bits of meat still on her chin. "Yep. I had my own little warrior. They let me name him. I called him 'Bonk.'"
I blinked. "That tracks."
She bit into her burger again, then paused. Chewed slower. Her brow furrowed. "Mm," she said with a frown. "Too good."
I lowered my sandwich. "What?"
"This meat," she mumbled. "Too soft. Too alive-y."
She spit the half-chewed chunk back onto her plate.
Rhea made a quiet noise of disgust and turned away.
Then Alice leaned in, opened her mouth wide, and spat.
The saliva hit the patty with a hiss like a match striking oil—and the burger briefly flared with blue flame. The air sizzled. Grease popped.
She picked it back up and took another bite, nodding with approval. "Better."
I stared at her. "…You really are a mini-me."
Rhea just sighed and went back to sipping her coffee.
Behind us, outside the greasy window smeared with fingerprints and ketchup streaks, something stood across the street.
Tall. Too tall.
Its outline barely visible in the fog. Just a shape—too lean, too still—half-shrouded by mist and shadows.
No one noticed.
Alice reached for the mustard. "I think I was good at the job," she said. "You have to be fast. And cold. And not flinch when something begs. I didn't flinch, worked myself out of the job."
"You're ten," Rhea muttered.
"Wasn't counting."
I smiled faintly, watching her torch the fries next.
Outside, the shape leaned slightly closer. Fog swirled tighter around it. Its head tilted, just enough to suggest interest.
Still, none of us looked.
We paid in cash. Technically.
Rhea left a twenty drachmas on the counter. The waitress gave us the kind of look usually reserved for drunk raccoons.
Outside, the air had cooled. The fog was thicker now—sliding down the streets like something with intent.
Alice skipped ahead of us, licking grease off her fingers and leaving faint little sizzle marks where her claws grazed the railing. She stopped by the Sparrow, turned on her heel, and grinned at me.
"I bet mine burns hotter."
I blinked. "What?"
She squared her shoulders, took a deep inhale, then launched a luggie into the air—a glittering arc of spit that caught fire midair and burst into a blue-white flame, sizzling like a sparkler before it hit the pavement and scorched a dinner plate-sized mark into the concrete.
Rhea froze halfway into the sidecar.
Alice looked very pleased with herself.
I raised an eyebrow. "Cute."
She narrowed her eyes. "Bet you can't do better."
I rolled my neck. "Watch and learn."
I stepped back, took a deep breath, and hawked one with the full power of demigod lung-pressure. The luggie arced high—higher than hers—and caught mid-spin with a roaring burst of orange flame, mixed with black crackling embers. It hit the sidewalk like a comet, left a crater, and set off a car alarm three spaces over.
Alice's jaw dropped.
Rhea groaned, covering her face with both hands. "You're teaching her the worst things."
"She started it," I said.
Alice just stared at the scorch mark, wide-eyed. "You're so cool."
"Ahhh, thank you honey."
Behind us, in the fog across the street, the thing watched. Closer now. It stood just beyond the edge of the diner's neon flicker, limbs impossibly long, face still hidden in shadow.
It made no sound. Didn't move.
But it watched.
None of us saw it.
Alice ran to the Sparrow and jumped into her spot behind me, still hyped from her partial victory. "Okay! Let's go blow up a university!"
"Investigate," Rhea corrected sharply, climbing in.
"Investigate then blow up a university," I amended.
The Sparrow growled to life, engines rumbling underfoot.
I looked at the compass. It spun once. Clicked southward.
"Miskatonic," I said. "Here we come."
We didn't see the fog curl tighter behind us, like fingers pulling closed.
And we didn't see the tall thing step out into the street, walking slowly, steadily, in the direction we'd just left.
I stared at the sign.
GARDNER FARM.
Dead gray fields. A leaning barn. A half-sunken stone well out back surrounded by twisted, dying trees.
The color of the light was just a little too pink. A little too silver. Like the air had an Instagram filter.
And then it clicked.
Oh no.
Oh, hell no.
I swung off the bike and tossed my jacket off my shoulders.
Rhea blinked. "What are you doing?"
"I know where we are," I said.
She looked around. "Okay?"
Alice's ears perked.
Rhea frowned. "You mean like… this place is important?"
"Yes, there's an alien in the well."
Rhea opened her mouth to argue—
Then saw how the grass curled in toward the well.
She closed her mouth.
"So what, you're just gonna walk up and—?"
"Kill it," I said, already cracking my knuckles. "Before it leaks out again."
"I'm sorry—again?"
"It came down in a meteor, poisoned the land, drained a whole family."
Alice bounced on her heels. "Are we killing now?"
I looked at her, dead serious.
"You ready to set an alien on fire?"
Her grin stretched sharp and her eyes soften. "Dad, I've been waiting for this moment for my entire life."
"Good. Stay close. Aim for center mass, even if you can't see it. If it starts talking to your brain, bite your own tongue and scream real loud."
Rhea stared at us, completely done. "Do I even want to know how you learned this?"
"I just thought of it," I said, walking toward the well. "You should try it sometime."
The air grew thicker the closer we got.
And under it all, I could feel it.
Something moving in the bottom of that well.
We crossed the field, step by step, until we stood at the edge.
The well was cracked around the rim. Covered in moss and something that looked like lichen but pulsed faintly—like it had a heartbeat of its own.
The light inside was… wrong.
Not pink. Not purple. It shimmered in colors that didn't belong in sunlight. A greasy hue that made the back of my teeth itch. The air buzzed with a tone I could feel in my fillings.
Alice leaned over the edge, claws gripping the lip of the stone. She made a face.
"Smells like Italian dressing."
I cracked my neck.
"Alright," I said. "You ready?"
Alice's grin sharpened. "You bet your spleen I am."
"No hesitation."
"No mercy."
"And if it starts whispering—"
"I bite it."
"…Close enough."
Then I hocked a glob of spit and fired it straight down the well.
It hit the inside with a wet splat—
—and the Color screamed.
A high, vibrating, metal-on-bone screech that buzzed through the stone and into our bones like a migraine that could yell, I felt weird, the color was probably trying to drain us, but there was I reason why I took Alice and not Rhea, regeneration bitch.
Alice didn't wait.
She leaned in and spat, hers bursting into blue fire midair. It hit lower, right where the shimmer was thickest.
The alien howled.
Something twisted inside the well—a ripple of anti-light flashing up the stone like it wanted to escape our spit.
We spit again. And again.
I coughed once to reload, then fired a thick luggie laced with hellfire that slammed down like a mortar.
Alice added a second stream—both middle fingers extended flipping off the alien. good girl.
The well shook.
The light convulsed, flickered, started to boil.
The scream turned into a shriek, rising in pitch like it was trying to claw its way out—desperate, feral.
"Keep going!" I shouted.
Alice spat again, eyes glowing. "Die, rainbow freak!"
The air above the well exploded in a flash of chromatic fire. A final scream tore through the trees—
And then—
Silence.
Just the sound of sizzling stone.
The color was gone.
Whatever was in the well?
Burnt.
Alice wiped her mouth on her sleeve. "That was awesome."
I spat once more for good measure, then nodded.
"Cosmic horror? Meet humanity fuck yeah."
CP Bank:100cp
Perks earned this chapter: None.
Milestones: Suffer not the alien: Kill an Alien- 100 cpLast edited: M