Ahead, the gang of men spread out warily, flashlights cutting brief, erratic paths through the gloom. They were trying to maintain a perimeter, trying to look dangerous. It didn’t matter. They were prey. They just didn’t know it yet. Grym watched with tightening dread as it began. One by one, men vanished.
No screams. No drawn-out struggles. Just a flicker of movement. A ripple at the edge of visibility, and another man was simply gone. Taken. Snatched away as if plucked by some vast, invisible hand. She barely caught glimpses of it: something fluid, something monstrously fast. It stayed outside the direct beams of their lights, striking from blind angles, moving with impossible grace through the cluttered factory ruins.
Grym tensed, fingers tightening around the grip of her pistol, but she didn’t move. To act now would only make her the next target. Beside her, the stranger from the petrol station crouched silently. She flicked a glance at him, and froze for half a second. He wasn’t panicking.
Instead, he calmly drew a weapon, a sleek pistol, and settled into a defensive stance, weight balanced perfectly on the balls of his feet. His breathing was slow. Steady. He was no civilian. Her mind raced. Who the hell are you?
The field ahead thinned rapidly. One man gone. Another. Another. Flashlights tumbled to the floor, rolling lazily in circles before coming to a stop, beams pointing uselessly into the void. Only one remained. The leader. The one who had commanded them.
He stood alone, flashlight held steady, pistol in hand, body rigid with control. Even from here, Grym could see the tension running through him like high-tension cable, but he didn’t bolt. Didn’t even flinch. She drew a slow breath through her nose, brain working fast. The way the creature moved: intelligent, patient, predatory. The way it was harvesting them, not killing outright.
It clicked into place. A cold certainty settled into her gut. “Dreyken,” she whispered under her breath.
Blood-drinkers. They didn’t kill quickly. They incapacitated their prey, dragging them off to be kept alive sometimes, stored away like cattle for future feedings. There had to be a lair nearby. Somewhere dark and deep where the missing men were still breathing. She leaned in close to the stranger, her voice barely a breath in the dead air. “You should leave. Now. Before it notices you.”
She expected resistance, confusion. Maybe even gratitude.
The stranger only offered a slow, almost serene smile and a shake of the head ‘no’, like he had long ago decided that staying was inevitable.
Grym grimaced inwardly. Fine. Have it your way, mystery man.
She checked her pistol again out of habit, then shifted to where she could see the last man more clearly. He hadn't run. He stood his ground. The last light in a darkening field.
She touched the stranger's arm lightly to get his full attention.
“When it grabs him,” she whispered, her voice taut, “we move. Fast. Quiet. No shooting unless absolutely necessary.”
Grym shifted her weight forward, her muscles coiled, heart hammering against her ribs. They weren’t here to fight the thing. Not yet. First, they had to find where it was keeping the others.
The Dreyken was moving closer. She could almost hear the whisper of its passage through the ruined factory air. Any second now.
No screams. No drawn-out struggles. Just a flicker of movement. A ripple at the edge of visibility, and another man was simply gone. Taken. Snatched away as if plucked by some vast, invisible hand. She barely caught glimpses of it: something fluid, something monstrously fast. It stayed outside the direct beams of their lights, striking from blind angles, moving with impossible grace through the cluttered factory ruins.
Grym tensed, fingers tightening around the grip of her pistol, but she didn’t move. To act now would only make her the next target. Beside her, the stranger from the petrol station crouched silently. She flicked a glance at him, and froze for half a second. He wasn’t panicking.
Instead, he calmly drew a weapon, a sleek pistol, and settled into a defensive stance, weight balanced perfectly on the balls of his feet. His breathing was slow. Steady. He was no civilian. Her mind raced. Who the hell are you?
The field ahead thinned rapidly. One man gone. Another. Another. Flashlights tumbled to the floor, rolling lazily in circles before coming to a stop, beams pointing uselessly into the void. Only one remained. The leader. The one who had commanded them.
He stood alone, flashlight held steady, pistol in hand, body rigid with control. Even from here, Grym could see the tension running through him like high-tension cable, but he didn’t bolt. Didn’t even flinch. She drew a slow breath through her nose, brain working fast. The way the creature moved: intelligent, patient, predatory. The way it was harvesting them, not killing outright.
It clicked into place. A cold certainty settled into her gut. “Dreyken,” she whispered under her breath.
Blood-drinkers. They didn’t kill quickly. They incapacitated their prey, dragging them off to be kept alive sometimes, stored away like cattle for future feedings. There had to be a lair nearby. Somewhere dark and deep where the missing men were still breathing. She leaned in close to the stranger, her voice barely a breath in the dead air. “You should leave. Now. Before it notices you.”
She expected resistance, confusion. Maybe even gratitude.
The stranger only offered a slow, almost serene smile and a shake of the head ‘no’, like he had long ago decided that staying was inevitable.
Grym grimaced inwardly. Fine. Have it your way, mystery man.
She checked her pistol again out of habit, then shifted to where she could see the last man more clearly. He hadn't run. He stood his ground. The last light in a darkening field.
She touched the stranger's arm lightly to get his full attention.
“When it grabs him,” she whispered, her voice taut, “we move. Fast. Quiet. No shooting unless absolutely necessary.”
Grym shifted her weight forward, her muscles coiled, heart hammering against her ribs. They weren’t here to fight the thing. Not yet. First, they had to find where it was keeping the others.
The Dreyken was moving closer. She could almost hear the whisper of its passage through the ruined factory air. Any second now.
‡‡ GRYM ‡‡