Page 1 of A Dark Infinity

1

Lark

Everynightfeelslikea descent into a nightmare, the darkness enveloping me like a suffocating shroud. With each step I take, I can’t shake the eerie sensation of being watched, unseen eyes fixated on my every move with predatory intent. The silence of the deserted streets amplifies my unease, leaving me with a palpable sense of isolation in the heart of the city.

Even the usual denizens of the night are gone—the drug addicts, the prostitutes—leaving behind an unsettling emptiness that mirrors the void in my soul. I never thought I’d miss their presence, but without them around, it’s quiet. Too damn quiet.

Despite the quietness, I never hear his footsteps. Him—the elusive shadow whose presence I can feel lurking in the dark. He terrifies me. With each passing night, his presence looms larger, casting a sinister shadow over my already fractured sense of security.

I called 911 after the first week of being stalked, hoping they could help me. My voice was trembling with fear as I pleaded for assistance, only to be met with cold indifference. They told me there’s nothing they can do when I can’t provide tangible evidence of his existence. But I know he’s real—I’ve felt his gaze like a physical weight bearing down on my soul.

Rounding the last corner, I run the last of the way to my building. The door is open and the glass from the window lies shattered on the pavement. I kick the door open and run up the stairs to the small room I rent, my heart in my throat the entire time.

As I reach my door I let out a scream. On the doormat is a black velvet box. I don’t know why I pick it up and bring it inside as I rush to the window to look for him, but I do. Like every night, he stands below one of the street lamps, his face hidden by the black mask he’s wearing. It’s not completely black, the white X across each eye and the weird mouth lights up like neon, so I know he’s looking upwards—at me.

I don’t know for how long I stand there, staring back. But when I’ve finally had enough, I open my window and toss the velvet box at him. “No more,” I scream. “I don’t want anymore of your fucking gifts.” He doesn’t move, and I can’t help taking that as a bad sign.

Usually, he only leaves me gifts in the morning. It started out with brown feathers, then black, and eventually white ones. Then he moved onto little bird ornaments, always in the shape and coloring of a lark; brown, black, and white.

The weirdest ones he left me were a first edition of Chaucer’s “The Knight’s Tale” and Shakespeare’s “Sonnet 29.” I didn’t read them, but I Googled my way to learn the lark symbolizes daybreak and new beginnings in literature and mythology.

I don’t have to look inside the box to know it contains something lark related, but I don’t want to know what it is. Enough is enough.

If I had any friends, I would ask if I could sleep on their couch or even move into their spare room—assuming they had one. But I don’t have any friends, and my only family is slowly dying in a care home. My dad doesn’t even recognize me anymore. As much as I love him, he’s also the reason I’m all alone.

The day after I graduated highschool, my mom left us because “She couldn’t take it anymore”. Dad was still mostly okay. But a few years later, he could no longer look after me, and I instead had to shoulder the responsibility of taking care of him. I never wanted anyone to know how bad things were, so I did everything I could to keep us going.

Without the money for college, I worked three different jobs to keep up with our bills. For a while, dad got better, and he started going to the doctor again instead of sitting in his room, tearing up papers into perfect little squares he would glue on the walls. That’s when I decided to take some college classes online. It wasn’t much, but enough that I could still one day graduate. Who knew that day would be ten years later.

The sound of my phone ringing pulls me out of my thoughts. “Hello?” I answer. Normally, I don’t answer my phone when it’s an unknown number. But with my dad getting worse, I can’t be picky about when to answer.

“You didn’t like my present?” a sinister voice taunts, sending a shiver down my spine.

“I-I…” My words falter, my mind reeling with fear and confusion.

His derisive chuckle sends a chill down my spine. “Don’t you know it’s rude to decline a present?” he sneers, before abruptly hanging up.

I stare down at the street below, but he’s vanished into the darkness, leaving me to grapple with the suffocating sense of dread that hangs over me like a shroud.

“You’ll not break me,” I whisper, the words a defiant mantra in the face of overwhelming darkness. “You’ll not break me.” This time it’s a vow.

My dad spoke those words to mom the day she left, and I always found them powerful and admirable. And now they’re my mantra whenever I feel like I’m facing something that threatens to break me. I may be battered and bruised, but I refuse to be broken.

Ethan

As I watch Lark from the shadows, a surge of possessiveness courses through me like a tidal wave, threatening to drown me in its suffocating embrace. The sight of her throwing my carefully chosen gift away fills me with a primal fury that burns hot and fierce, consuming me from within.

How fucking dare she?

Doesn’t she know she’s meant for me?

I know she isn’t aware yet, but she should be. No one pays this much attention to someone they don’t want to possess in every sense of the word. And that’s what I want; to claim her as mine and mine alone.

It's a dangerous impulse, one that threatens to unravel the plans set in motion by Nikolaos the Ruthless. The Drákon Leader sent me here and gave me clear instructions of what he expects. My obligations to my family come first, and I can't afford to let anything—or anyone—distract me from my duty. But fuck… my Little bird needs me as much as I need her. We belong together.

If I’m honest with myself, I’m not even fighting the pull anymore. I’m willingly slipping further and further into the abyss that threatens to consume me whole.

Maybe it’s not the worst place to be.

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