The Lord of Veins | Shadow Slave

The icy wind howled, granting passage of the gaunt figure. Each step it took dragged through the snow, leaving deep furrows in the snow.

Squinting his eyes, Evan could see that it was a boy. In his current emaciated state, it was clear that this boy had been starved for days, perhaps weeks.

Following his dragging steps, the husk of what was once a boy scuffled through the snow. His head swayed in sync, his eyes dead as they bore down into the white snow just ahead.

You can hardly stand on your own! Get the hell out of here!

Evan grasped his hammer, turning back to face the Kaldrmanes. His eyes widened to find their posture faltered by the approaching stranger.

Emboldened by their sudden cowardice, Evan steeled himself and stepped closer. The creature's though capable retreated slightly, their eyes narrowing in caution. 

Though, this fragile truce only lasted but a moment. As Evan heard a thud behind him. He whirled around, his heart hammering in his chest. The boy had fallen to one knee, trembling violently.

He succumbed to a fit of hacking coughs, each one expelling thick, inky-black substances that tainted the pristine snow beneath him. 

Stabilizing himself, his blackened blade stabbed into the ground, supporting his failing body as his ragged breath filled the air.

SHIT!

Evan spun back towards the Kaldrmanes, to only see a kicked up smokescreen of snow. These creatures were using their environment to their advantage just like what they did just moments before.

Evan's eyes widened, but before he could even lift his hammer a claw raked through the kicked up snow.

He froze in the face of death, and it was certain, those 6 inch claws, moving at that speed would make quick work of him at that state. 

In that moment, Evan was taunted with the memory of the life he had just over a year ago. Everything was perfect. His father was healthy, he was finishing his senior year of high school, and he was on the brink of signing with a major sports team. His future was bright and right before him. 

But then the spell ripped everything right out of his hand. It spiraled out of control, and it all started with his father, his rock and guiding force in his life.

"Hell… son." His father rasped from the hospital bed, his voice strained. "If I'm going to die, I'll accept it. I've done enough already." 

Those words back then cut through Evan. He remembered standing beside the bed, his hands clenched at his sides. His father had always been unyielding, a man who never showed weakness, no matter how dire the situation. But now, that indomitable man was transformed, unrecognizable, dead…

His father's sickly face and resigned tone was alien—a reminder that even the strongest falter and cower to the face of death. 

For the first time, Evan saw something he had never associated with his father: surrender. 

It was a quality he could never mirror. 

Those memories coming back now at a time like this, made him want to scream, to fight, to bite, to rage.

He didn't settle, he never settled. Cowering? That was for his opponents, and death? He would not be content.

He gripped his hammer, even when he had no chance, not enough time to act. He raised his hammer anyways, just as the claws neared to rend his flesh, he yelled defiantly.

Lunging forward with a speed that made him a blur, the boy—no, the stranger drove his darkened blade into the predator's side. The force of the attack sent the large creature crashing to the ground, saving Evan from the killing blow, but not unscathed as the predators claw tore the outer corner of his eye socket.

Evan reeled in pain, dropping his hammer reaching for his eye. He groaned, blinking his eye, that was now being covered in his blood. 

The struggle he heard was barren of humanity, he closed his eye and witnessed through his other, to see blood and snow churning together, a feral clash of beasts.

Evan stood rooted in place, unable to look away. The stranger's ferocity was unmatched, the powerful blows from the creature seemed to have no effect. 

Then the struggle ended as abruptly as it began.

What the hell are you?

Evan froze, amazed, the boy, if he could still be called that, knelt over the lifeless creature. His chest heaved with ragged breaths as he raised his sword high above his head. 

His entire body was bathed in blood, it was indistinguishable if it was his or the creature he had slain. His clothes were torn into terrible tatters, but his eyes, those eyes were filled with an animalistic resolve, a color befit of a monster, a glowing devilish red. 

With a hoarse exhale, the boy brought his blade down plunging it deep into the Kaldrmane's belly. The sound of flesh and bone filled the empty cold air as he wrenched the blade violently, splitting the creature open. Blood and bits of viscera spilled onto the snow, but the boy didn't stop.

Then, the boy did something that horrified Evan. He discarded his blade to the side and plunged his hands into the warm gore.

Evan stumbled back, his stomach twisting as bile rose in his throat. Even though he wanted to look away, he just couldn't.

He watched as the boy tore into the beast with his bare hands, but that wasn't the worst of it all.

The boy leaned down and dipped his head into the open cavity. The sound of gnawing reaching Evan's ears, making his stomach lurch, then he hurled out the remnants that were in his belly. 

The scene seared itself into his mind. The sight of the emaciated stranger feeding, tearing into the predator with an unrelenting hunger. 

This was no mere survivor or savior—it was entirely inhuman, something completely and utterly monstrous.

***

"Its so dark…so cold…" he whispered, his voice quivering. "Where am I?"

Zerin's eyelids opened to a sea of darkness. It was not merely the absence of light, as he could feel the pressure of it like a suffocating tide. 

It stretched forever, infinite.

Responding to his voice the darkness stirred. A faint, flickering light appeared just a short distance ahead of him—a wisp of white. It pulsed faintly and danced, as if to beckon him closer.

Zerin reached out instinctively. He began to move, each step feeling more like he was wading through thick invisible tar. 

Suddenly, a voice tore through the darkness, a sharp and urgent warning. It was familiar—impossibly so.

"Run from the light!"

Zerin froze, his breath hitching. His hand hovering just inches from the flame pulled back to him.

"That voice… No way…"

He spun around, scanning the infinite darkness behind him, his eyes wide and searching. There was nothing, just darkness.

"Wi—?" He could hardly utter the name before a chill surged up his spine, a primal instinct of fear. It was a fear that he had only experienced once before.

Whipping his head back to the light, Zerin's stomach dropped. The flame instantly vanished.

The darkness stirred once more, an outline barely perceptible.

Then it emerged.