Page 129 of Nocturne

“M…Matt?” I call cautiously, my voice shaking.

No answer. He doesn’t even move an inch. My glasses fog with the chill that is thick in this region, forcing me to wipe them on my shirt before I put them on. He is covered in blood. His broken leg is completely bent at an inverse angle, which should have him writhing in pain. But he lays there, motionless.

Trying not to think worse, I slowly make my way towards him. My ears are cautious, listening for any sound in the otherwise still forest as I crouch down beside the man. Somewhere in the depths of my mind, there’s a voice screaming at me to react. A voice that urges me that this is yet another scenario where normal people’s stomachs turn, and they vomit instead of investigating the horror. The voice has lost its power long back.

His face is mauled. And so is his stomach, his pelvis and neck. Chucks of flesh lay missing, and I don’t have to look far to see them thrown on his other side. Which animal simply kills its prey and does not feast on it?

What if it isn’t an animal that has attacked him?

The sudden question has me on guard. An animal is much safer than the ones capable of doing this. I look around once again, seeing if anything is amiss. I might not remember to carry my phone with me all the time, but I never made the mistake of not carrying my gun, not since the incident in the fighting ring. If someone comes for an attack, I’ll make sure to let them taste their blood before I run for the hills.

Convinced that there is no immediate harm, I reluctantly stretch my fingers towards Matt’s neck. Or what remains of it. It is futile to even attempt it, but like always, I cannot stop hoping. With quivering fingers covered in mud, I press them down onhis pulse point. I look down at my watch, waiting, praying for a miracle.

Nothing. Not even the barest hints of breathing.

Dead. Matt lies dead in a slow-forming puddle of his blood, carving a tiny hole to play his own role in my nightmares. Another innocent dies while I get to live.

But then my eyes fall on something.

A small white sheet.

I shouldn’t look at it. I should turn away. But my hands, trembling uncontrollably, reach for it. I unfold it slowly, my heart racing, not knowing what I will find. But I know. I know this moment is going to change everything.

The moment I open it, my world tilts on its axis. I fall back, scrambling away from Matt’s dead body. I cannot stop moving until my back hits the trunk of a tree, my breaths coming out in sharp gasps.

Tick-Tock.

That’s what’s written on the page. And I know, I just know that it is for me. And I know who it is from.

When I get to my legs, the courage that I taught myself to fake in situations like this evaporates like a wisp of air. There is no amount of courage that I could fake to stand staring at these hellish circumstances. There is no amount of courage I can show when faced with the boogeyman who was created personally for me.

What pure fear should be is something he has shown me. Instilled in me.

My bones ache in reminder of the pain, torture and the promise of death in his eyes as I pump my legs to run as fast as they can. My soul shivers in unfiltered fear, my palm crushing the wretched paper in my hand that was his message.

He found me.

After more than a decade, he found me.

After more than a decade of running, I can feel the weight of it pressing down on me—the knowledge that this was never just a game, never a forgotten threat. I don’t even have time to fully absorb the depth of the horror before my heart sinks with certainty: Matt's death was just the beginning. He’s sending his message, and it’s wrapped in the finality of death. More... more is coming.

This time, he won’t allow to be blindsided. He won’t leave any space for mistakes. Just him not grabbing me yet is enough to let me know that he has me where he wants and will be playing the game as long as he wishes to.

My feet hit the ground faster, each step driven by the fear that tightens around my chest. I burst out of the forest, my lungs searing as I break into the parking lot, desperate to escape, to make it out before the next blow lands.

But then, I hit something solid. A wall of muscle, a presence so imposing that it makes me recoil instinctively. A scream claws at my throat as I stagger backwards, my mind still reeling from what I’ve just seen.

No, no, no… it’s him.Vir. He has finally come to grab me himself.

The thought consumes me, takes over the space in my head, and I can feel my pulse ringing in my ears. The grip on my arms is iron, and I twist, thrashing against it, panic taking over as I lash out, clawing at whatever’s holding me—desperate to escape, to survive.

But then the world spins violently. My head rattles from the force of someone shaking me, my body jerking, and I almost lose all sense of who I am, where I am. The grip tightens, and the haze in my mind begins to clear, the fog lifting as the voice breaks through my panic.

The voice—a sound so powerful, so steady that it stops my breath in my chest. It rolls over me like the deep, relentless tide of the North Sea, and for the first time since I entered the woods, I don’t feel like I’m drowning.

“Ara”

His voice.

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