A blurry world of soft, artificial light swam into focus. Owen's eyelids felt heavy, gritty, as if they were glued together. A dull throb pulsed through his head, a constant reminder of the beating he'd taken. He tried to move, but a sharp pain shot through his ribs, making him gasp.
A gentle pressure on his arm halted his movement. A figure leaned over him, their features initially indistinct. A soft light seemed to emanate from them, and for a fleeting moment, a single word echoed in the fog of his mind: Mia. The familiar silhouette, the comforting presence… it had to be her. A wave of relief washed over him, quickly followed by a desperate need to tell her what had happened, the terror he'd felt…
Then, as his vision cleared further, the image sharpened. This wasn't Mia. This woman was older, her face etched with lines of weariness but her eyes sharp and focused, a stark contrast to Mia's gentle features. She wore a simple white tunic, and her hands were surprisingly gentle as she continued to examine him.
"Easy there," the woman said, her voice calm and professional. "You've been out for a while."
The name "Mia" died on Owen's lips, replaced by a wave of confusion. Where was he? This wasn't the alleyway… and this wasn't Mia.
"Where… where am I?" Owen croaked, his throat dry and scratchy. He tried to sit up again, but the pain in his ribs stopped him short.
"You're safe, for now," Anya replied, gently pressing him back against the cot. "You were found in the ruins near the city center. Do you remember what happened?" Her voice was soothing, but her eyes held a professional watchfulness.
Owen blinked, trying to piece together the fragmented memories. The red moon… the monstrous shadows… the teeth…
"Monsters… there were monsters…" he whispered, a shiver running down his spine despite the relative warmth of the room.
Anya nodded slowly. "Abyssal creatures. They've been more active lately. What's your name?"
"Owen," he managed, the sound barely above a whisper. "Owen… what day is it?" He had no sense of time anymore. Everything had become a blur of fear and desperation.
"It's… not important right now. What's the last thing you clearly remember before… the monsters?" Anya continued, her tone conversational, as if she were discussing the weather.
Owen frowned, his brow furrowed in concentration. "I… I remember seeing those creatures...they...kept coming...whispering...ah." Faith, he thought. The name felt like a lifeline in the sea of his confusion. "There was Faith as well, I think...We got separated… when they attacked....no, I ran...I remember jumping out the window, then...I don't know."
Anya's gaze softened slightly. "Was there anyone else?"
He shook his head, a dull ache intensifying behind his eyes. "No… just Faith."
"And you were in the city center looking for her?" Anya asked, carefully observing his reactions.
"I don't remember," Owen replied, his voice laced with a desperate urgency. "I have to find her. I… I." The last word caught in his throat, a painful reminder of other losses he couldn't quite grasp.
Anya nodded understandingly. "The city center is dangerous, especially now. What were you doing there in the first place?"
Owen hesitated, a flicker of unease washing over him. He wasn't sure he should tell this stranger everything. "I woke up there...after the, ugh...after the bomb...no...star fell."
"Star?" Anya repeated, a hint of skepticism in her tone. "Who told you about this star?"
He struggled to remember. It was just something that had happened. He finally remembered: "It fell yesterday, I...even though...I..."
Anya didn't press further on that point. Instead, she shifted her focus. She noticed his memory seemed unstable, but she noted the words.
"You mentioned the monsters… these abyssal creatures. Did you see them clearly?"
"Yes," Owen said, his voice gaining a little more strength, the fear momentarily overriding his confusion. "Big ones… shadowy… with sharp teeth. And smaller ones… fast, like… like dogs." He shuddered at the memory.
"Did you see any… unusual creatures? Anything that didn't seem like the others?" Anya's eyes flickered subtly towards his face, her gaze lingering for a moment on his eyes, though not overtly.
Owen thought back, his memories still hazy. "There was… one bigger one. It was… tall. And it had these glowing eyes. Yellow, I think." He didn't mention the red glow that sometimes flickered in his own vision, a strange anomaly he couldn't explain and felt instinctively to hide.
"Yellow eyes," Anya repeated, making a mental note. "And what were you doing when these creatures attacked you?"
"I was trying to hide," Owen said, his voice barely audible again. "They kept on whispering...they filled my head with...ah, it hurts!"
Anya was silent for a moment, allowing him to rest. Telling him to relax and that he was safe, she continued her examination, gently probing his ribs and checking his pulse again. "You've got some broken ribs, and a fair amount of bruising. You were lucky to survive that encounter."
"Faith...Mia… what happened to her?" Owen asked, his voice filled with anxiety. "Did you… did you find her too?"
Anya's expression softened. "We didn't find anyone else in your immediate vicinity. But the city is vast. We'll keep an eye out." Her tone was reassuring, but noncommittal.
"You will?" Hope flickered in Owen's chest, a fragile ember in the darkness.
"We try to help those we find," Anya said. "Now, Owen, I noticed something… unusual about your eyes when we found you. They seemed to have a fred glow. Is that something you've noticed before?" She asked the question casually, as if inquiring about a minor ailment.
Owen's breath hitched. He instinctively looked away, a sudden surge of paranoia gripping him. "No," he said quickly, perhaps too quickly. "I… I don't know what you're talking about. My eyes are just… normal."
Anya didn't push, but her gaze remained steady. "Sometimes, in stressful situations, the body can react in unexpected ways. It's nothing to be alarmed about. Just something we like to keep track of." She offered a small, reassuring smile. "Do you have any other… unusual symptoms you've noticed lately? Anything out of the ordinary with your body or your senses?"
Owen hesitated again. He had noticed other things… strange whispers in his mind, a heightened awareness of his surroundings at times, but he couldn't bring himself to voice them. It felt too strange, too… wrong. "No," he repeated, trying to sound more convincing this time. "I just… I've been scared."
"That's understandable," Anya said. "You've been through a traumatic experience. It's natural to feel scared. Are you feeling any pain right now, besides your ribs?"
He nodded slightly. "My head hurts… and everything feels… heavy."
"That's likely from the injuries and the shock. We'll give you something for the pain. Try to rest for now. You're safe here." Anya adjusted the thin blanket covering him. "We'll talk more later." She moved away to prepare some medication, but Owen could still feel her gaze on him, a silent observation that made him uneasy. He had a feeling that she didn't believe him about his eyes, and he wondered what that meant for him.
He closed his eyes, the image of Faith's face flickering behind his eyelids, a desperate plea for her safety echoing in his heart.
A Fragile Sanctuary
Lying back on the surprisingly comfortable cot, Owen closed his eyes, but the darkness behind his eyelids was far from restful. His mind raced, trying to catch up with the reality he found himself in. One moment, he was huddled in the crumbling building with Faith, the sounds of monstrous growls echoing all around them. The next, he was waking up in this strange, sterile room with a woman who seemed both kind and… observant.
"Safe, for now," she had said. The "for now" part echoed in his mind, a subtle undercurrent of unease. What was going to happen later? Were these people really trying to help, or had they brought him here for some other reason? Their armor, their weapons… they looked like soldiers, efficient and perhaps a little intimidating.
The memory of Anya's words about his eyes sent a fresh wave of anxiety through him. The faint red glow. He had seen it sometimes, in his reflection in puddles or shattered glass, a faint crimson flicker that didn't belong. He had always dismissed it as a trick of the light.
But the way the medic had asked, so
casually yet so directly… it made him wonder if it was more noticeable than he thought.
Why hadn't he told her about it? Instinct, pure and simple. A gut feeling that this was something he should keep hidden. In a world where monsters roamed and the very sky seemed stained with blood, anything that made him different felt like a target painted on his back.well he can't hide his bloody red eyes so simply.
He listened to the sounds around him. The soft hum of what he assumed were the glowing crystals providing light, the distant clanging of metal, muffled voices in the background. This place felt secure, fortified, a stark contrast to the chaos of the city. These "Hunters," as the large one called Borin.
Borin had been referred to, seemed capable, organized. They had saved him, after all.
But the question lingered: where was Faith? Had they found her too? Anya's words offered a sliver of hope, but her tone hadn't been entirely convincing. We'll keep an eye out. It sounded more like a polite dismissal than a promise or so he thought.
The edges of his memory were still fuzzy, painful gaps where he suspected there were more losses, more fear.
He shifted slightly, trying to alleviate the ache in his ribs. He needed to get out of here, to search for Faith himself. But he was weak, injured. He wouldn't last long on his own in that ruined city. Maybe, just maybe, these Hunters could help him. But could he trust them? Especially if this red glow in his eyes was something they considered dangerous.
Anya returned with a small cup and a pill. "Here," she said gently. "This will help with the pain."
Owen swallowed the pill with a sip of water, the coolness soothing his dry throat. He watched Anya as she cleaned some of the cuts on his face and hands. Her touch was surprisingly gentle, her movements efficient. She seemed genuinely concerned for his well-being.
"Try to get some rest, Owen," she said, her gaze meeting his. "Your body needs to heal."
He nodded, pretending to feel drowsy, but his mind was still racing. As Anya moved away to attend to another cot, Owen's eyes flickered open again. He scanned the room, taking in more details. Other cots, some occupied by figures wrapped in bandages, their faces pale and drawn. Various medical supplies, strange devices with glowing lights, and weapons leaning against the walls. This was a place of both healing and combat.
He noticed Seraphina standing near the entrance to the infirmary, her golden armor gleaming in the soft light. Her expression was unreadable as she observed him. There was a regal air about her, a quiet confidence that suggested she was in charge. He wondered what she thought of him, this strange survivor with the unusual eyes.
A thought struck him.
The red glow… it had seemed to intensify when he was close to the bigger, shadowy creatures in the city. Almost like a… response. Could it be connected to them? Was he somehow… like them? The idea sent a jolt of fear through him. If the Hunters suspected that, they might not be so keen on helping him.
He decided then and there that he would keep the red glow, and any other strange abilities he might have, a secret for as long as possible. He needed to figure out what was going on and to survive in this terrifying new world. Trusting these armored strangers was a risk he wasn't sure he could afford just yet. He would play along, appear weak and grateful, and observe, learn, and wait for his opportunity.