Grasp of Erebus

By Sebastian Dax

Each night a boy named Tom is cursed with visions that reveal the nightmarish realm of the shadow creatures and countless barren worlds laid waste in the Shadow's wake. A secret organization known as the Shadow Cult exploits these hellscapes, searching for "travelers" like Tom and culling them for their insidious purposes. His mother Rachel is his only chance for protection.

Rachel's desperation grows. Each agonizing night she watches, helplessly as her son Tom descends into a shadowy hellscape of death and destruction of his own imagination, or is it? Their perilous search for answers ensnares them both into a nightmarish world and revelations of a far greater threat from which there may be no escape for them or humanity. Can they unlock the secrets to defeating the Shadow before it is too late to escape its grasp?

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 18, 2022
• ISBN: 9781667825571

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

PREMONITIONS

John steadied himself using his left hand in an open-hand grip after cramming his right hand into a small crevice at eye level. Once his foot found a small pocket to wedge his toes, he used the additional leverage to heave himself upward. He considered how amused the Gods must be by his decision to attempt a free solo ascent. He could almost sense their presence as he climbed. Montezuma’s Tower had so far bestowed him a steady bounty of cracks and outcroppings on an otherwise clean face. John further mused that the rock patterns seemingly emerged as he went as if deliberately hosting his efforts to climb them. He pondered how evolution had intentionally sculpted rock over millions of years in millions of like universes just for days like this day. Therefore, John theorized his climb both fulfilled his destiny as well as the destiny of the faces he climbed as he went.

I’m here for unwinding, not making puzzles.

He recalled how earlier he noticed a warning notice about the tower’s closure to climbers posted at the Visitor Center. The news only piqued his interest in climbing more. When he arrived at the tower, he couldn’t see any reason for the closure. The lack of rainfall, to his knowledge, in the past few weeks which might soften the sandstone in the area should make the climb safer. To John, as things stood, the closure signified that no other climbers would be there but him!

John wondered how many others had braved a free solo ascent in the Garden of the Gods as he set out to prove himself worthy of their blessing. The extreme risk carried an equally intense adrenaline rush, spurring him on. Similar to his roommate’s craving for women; he struggled to satisfy his own craving for climbing. This new challenge had beckoned him ever since his Doolie year at the U.S. Air Force Academy.

Accepting the challenge to pursue an Air Force career, John received an appointment to the first Academy class of cadets in 1955. Although he spent the last year settled into Lowry Air Force base, along with 306 of his classmates, John harbored a desire to eventually fulfill some of his deeply held ambitions and challenges. Along the way, John befriended Marcus Reitter, his roommate. Together they overcame the grueling academic, military, and physical demands of freshman-year cadet life. The week after receiving recognition and moving into the ranks of upperclassmen, John felt the time had arrived to act on his desires.

After settling into the facility where they would spend the first few weeks of summer, John recruited his roommate to take up his first challenge. Marcus called Colorado Springs home, but his family had only lived there since his father’s retirement from the Air force a few years earlier. Being from an Air Force family, Marcus knew military life firsthand. Raised to lead, Marcus’s appointment to the Academy also meant a burden of many new expectations by not only his parents but also his aristocratic lineage, with gilded footsteps he would follow. As a congressman, his uncle acted instrumentally in Marcus receiving his appointment to the first class of Academy cadets. Marcus flouted his connections when it suited him, but for all the bluster and pomp, John saw an insecure and vulnerable young man, desperate to find his own identity. Marcus drew on John’s strength and character to keep his divided loyalties from tearing himself apart.

So, when John drafted Marcus for rock climbing, he immediately obliged by obtaining gear for them both. Predictably for Marcus however, the trip presented an opportunity to conceal his intentions. Appearances were everything to Marcus where his family was concerned. Rock climbing seemed so incompatible for such a handsome young man with a libido to match. Marcus never intended to abandon his sweet tooth for the local women. Unsurprisingly, when the day arrived Marcus found a way to serve his impulses while enjoying the great outdoors. He brought with him a young woman he had met the night before in a local bar. Shortly after parking near the Visitor Center, Marcus sprung from his father’s car and strolled onto the trails hand-in-hand with Yvette, leaving John with a duffle bag full of climbing gear.

Catch ‘ya back here at 3! Marcus shot over his shoulder as the two disappeared. John watched them leave, and then set out for the tower. Three it is, John had said, with a smile.

After his foot found the crevice that his hand abandoned only moments before, John surveyed what his line-of-sight could observe of the inset just above him. The narrow inset lay almost beyond reach, but John felt optimistic a leap would work. With a grunt he lunged and successfully hooked his hand in the inset. The surprisingly soft inset, still saturated by rain, slipped through his fingers, exacerbated by the fact he had unwisely abandoned his footing in the leap. Struggling to rescue his balance, John flailed wildly in a panic against the sheer rock face. Sensing the crevice continuing to shift through his fingers, John threw his other hand into the inset in a vain attempt to stabilize his grip. The additional fingers only sank further, as if he had grabbed a soft stick of butter, shifting quickly through his hands and deeply into the soft sandstone. Moments later, the inset gently gave way entirely, abandoning John completely to emerge out of the surrounding rock formation and sending him backward into a freefall. John felt the rush toward the rocks below as he watched the tower accelerate away. The Gods had turned their backs on him, and then there was silence.

John awoke in the dark. Slowly, his senses revived; after surviving a fatal fall. Yet, circumstances unbeknownst to him instead miraculously and strangely left him alive. Aside from a few cuts and bruises, John managed to land unharmed, as the thick brush beneath him had caught the brunt of his fall. He gathered his focus as he slowly rose to his feet. Dim moonlight offered little insight into his surroundings, but it did reveal the crevice he had fallen through. Shaking off the disorientation, John discovered he had somehow fallen through the rock formation and landed inside a small crevice that he did not remember seeing earlier. In fact, John distinctively recalled that an outcrop filled with jagged rocks awaited any fall.

What is that?

John spotted a faintly visible film just within his reach, glowing softly overhead, spanning the entire crevice, and embedded in the surrounding ground in a large arc. John stood on his toes and stretched out his fingers to reach through the film. To his amazement, he could see the rock formations he had reflected upon as he fell illuminated on his fingers. They appeared only to have been some type of projected illusion.

In the distance, John could hear footsteps rapidly approaching. Instinctively, he leaped from the crevice and hid in the bushes nearby. A hooded figure approached from a pathway John had not noticed before. Without a pause, the figure passed through the glowing film and continued toward the rock formation. Reaching through the formation, John heard a metallic clank as an access door built through the sandstone face opened.

John gasped softly and the figure paused at the entrance. The figure stood motionless as if fused to the sandstone, while John watched silently from the underbrush. Without warning, the figure turned and threw a dagger past John, narrowly missing him, embedding instead into the ground behind him. The figure then pulled back its hood to reveal a bald man, who then charged screaming at John. The man gleefully threw a jab that hit John squarely in the face, then again in the stomach. Every swing thereafter connected perfectly, while John’s counter punches were blocked as if telegraphing his every move to his attacker. Changing tactics unexpectedly, John grabbed the man in a wrestling grip, and then flipped him onto his back. Holding him in a chokehold, the man struggled until the lack of air caused him to pass out. Breathless, John pulled away from the stranger, now on the ground silent before him. Dusting himself off, he stood over the man, briefly examining his bizarre-hooded dress before a faint glow in the distance caught his attention.

From the door the man had opened, John could see a small room, illuminated by violet light. Casting one more look at the hooded figure, John proceeded inside the small room, shutting the door behind him. The small room was spherical. Large symbols appeared embedded in panels lining the room. At the center of the room was a large column. A large fissure, seemingly splitting the column in two at the center, revealed the violet glow filling the space. Controlling his fear, John approached the fissure. Inside, he could make out a dark passageway that extended beyond his sight. As John moved cautiously closer, the surface of the passageway appeared glazed completely over in a coating of slime, which shimmered and swayed, strangely looking like he was staring down the throat of some massive beast. Suddenly he felt aware of a presence emanating somehow from the fissure. Stepping unconsciously backward, he could also hear an increasingly loud commotion, apparently rapidly approaching the fissure. John respectively sprang backward and stumbled as two figures burst from the fissure. Another hooded man sprinted into the small room, holding a large dagger, then turned to fight as a much larger and four-legged humanoid beast resembling a centaur, entered the room holding a large scepter with a glowing jewel embedded in a spiked cage.

John scrambled to his feet, attracting the attention of the hooded man, who then lunged and attacked John. As he raised his dagger to swing at John, the beast, in turn, impaled the man through the torso with his scepter. The man dropped his dagger and fell to his knees, but before he collapsed to the ground, the beast impaled him again, then pulled him back and tossed him aside. The man’s lifeless body bounced off the far wall before collapsing into a crumpled pile on the floor of the room. John stood motionless in horror at the spectacle while the beast adjusted the strap of a satchel it wore and strolled triumphantly over to examine the corpse, its bright yellow eyes full of rage. Stirring the ground with the scepter near the lifeless body, the Creature snapped its attention toward John, as if noticing him for the first time. The beast’s yellow glaring eyes instantly swelled ablaze as it turned and charged at John, who made a mad scramble for the door.

Reacting instinctively, John ducked and rolled to one side as he reached the door, sensing the creature bearing down on him. As he did, the creature rammed the scepter through the wall near the door and smashed itself against the wall as it tried unsuccessfully to pivot toward John. The creature wailed as it strained to pull the scepter from the wall, buying time for John to scour the ground, desperately searching for the man’s dagger. As he located and retrieved the dagger, the creature dislodged the scepter and turned for a square off. Switching up its grip, the creature charged again arching the glowing spiked tip for a strike. Swinging the scepter repeatedly like a massive, jeweled club, the beast lunged relentlessly in a fit of rage, while John skillfully dodged each blow. Tucking under the beast, John deftly emerged on the other side while cleaving its hindquarter with the dagger, leading to another chorus of wails.

The second hooded figure entered the room from the small door, and the beast immediately pounced, sweeping the man from his feet with the scepter. As the man landed on his back, the creature pinned him with its front legs, while driving the scepter through him mercilessly. Taking advantage of the distraction, John skillfully scaled the back of the creature and drove the dagger through its left arm. The creature reared backward, sending John crashing to the ground as it dropped the scepter. The beast painfully turned and watched as John scramble across the floor and snatch up the scepter. Cradling its injured arm, the creature lunged again, attempting to stomp on him, but John dodged the creature’s movements while connecting the spiked cage with the creature’s head. Disoriented, the creature landed on its injured arm and flailed defensively in a failed attempt to stop John from driving the scepter through its chest. In a broken howl as its chest was punctured, the creature settled to one side, spurting and gurgling fluid from its mouth. In a final fit, the creature grasped at its chest, while struggling to reach the portal until it went completely limp and motionless. The portal obligingly dissolved, sealing the world beyond as it disappeared.

As the creature’s grasp faded, its lifeless arm slapped the ground, flinging the satchel open. From underneath the satchel’s fold rolled out a shimmering gemstone that came to a stop beside the center column. John stared in ignorant fear and wonder, as the gem’s radiance filled his vision. The symbols embedded within the chamber’s interior reflected the light cast by the gem, but the surrounding walls of the chamber remained dark. The powerful glow entranced John, melting away any apprehension, replaced with an inner calm and growing compulsion, or curious manifestation, imploring him to wield the strange gemstone. Throwing caution aside, John reached down and scooped up the sparkling pebble.

As John stood with the gem in hand, he felt the small room fall silent. Startling John, a man appeared directly in front of him who mimicked John’s every action. However, a closer look revealed the man was a three-dimensional projection of John. Regaining his composure, John paused in wonder of his duplicate mere feet away. The stereo figure had a soft aura, as the gem did, but was otherwise indistinguishable to himself.

Amazing, John said, and his duplicate silently mouthed, while the stony silence continued.

Perhaps the gem was consuming all ambient noise.

John waved, danced, and wagged in amusement, while his twin replicated the danceathon.

The panel in front of him darkened as he turned to face the dead creature, while another panel of symbols nearby illuminated. This change muted the gem’s radiance, darkening the room to reveal a field of stars. Turning back, the panel he no longer faced darkened again as the stars obligingly disappeared, while the symbols in the previous panel returned with his twin.

Okay … John said, tentatively.

Returning to the panel illuminating the field of stars, John gazed in renewed amazement. The room sparkled with points of light from all directions, with some appearing brighter, or closer, than others. Some of them quite close, and their brilliance saturated his eyes for a moment, so he could not quite make them out at first.

From the corner of his eye, John detected movement. He glanced where three figures appeared a short distance away. As his eyes adjusted, John saw a couple basked in a silhouette of light against the vast darkness, seated in an embrace. The third figure stood nearby, shook its body, turned to face John, and wagged its tail. Like the others, the light emanating from the third figure left only a silhouette. A swell of nostalgia rose as he watched the form of a golden retriever leap running towards him, stirring the couple nearby. In confused delight, the dog ran directly up to John and vainly attempted to jump on him.

Could it be?

Max? John asked the luminous dog that circled and leaped—bursting wildly with joy at his feet.

Maximilian had been John’s loyal companion over a decade ago. Yet, there he was, and not imagined. His heart filled with all the exuberance of childhood and tears welled as he knelt to greet his long-lost friend.

I missed you so, Max! John cried as the dog tried desperately to lick his face. Awash with emotion, his reunion was almost too much to bear. Their beloved connection bridged in this place, seemingly across space and time, as though there had never been any distance between them. So many questions left unanswered, but swept aside in the thrill of the moment.

The couple emerged from beyond the spherical walls, entered the room and approached John. Standing silently at his side, they smiled broadly at their son. John froze in disbelief at the sight of his parents. The soft glow their bodies emitted warmed John like their loving embraces once did so many years ago before a car crash had separated them. Renewed tears streamed down John’s face as he stood.

Is this a dream? Am I dreaming this?

As if reading his mind, his mother approached closer, followed by his father. Her aura enveloped him in a familiar bond that surrounded and warmed him. Her lips moved as if she spoke, but the deafening silence continued.

My boy, John read her lips as she said in utter silence, we are so proud of you!

His father embraced his mother again and smiled, We both are! his lips read.

Mom … John stuttered and blustered, … dad, I … I can’t hear you.

Tears continued freely as he reunited with his parents once more. Leaving him as an infant, they both had died tragically. John’s uncle had cared for him, but the incident had left John with only pictures and faded memories of an infant to remember them by. Standing before him, his mother could only shake her head in acknowledgment of their shared silence. Her smile showered him with motherly love and calmed his frustration.

The rules of our reunion, I suppose.

It’s alright, son, she said.

Lifting his arm toward the sky, John’s father invited him to gaze out into the darkness at the many stars surrounding him. Some appeared to move as if drawing closer.

These aren’t stars at all! They’re people!

Hundreds, perhaps thousands of people surrounded him, some appearing significant distances away, but with no less brilliant auras. As he looked on, some stood, obliging his curiosity and watching John from afar. Some, like his parents, began the trek, however long, toward John.

Your past, John, his father’s lips read as he waved again at the field of lights, a chronicle of his entire existence. They all came before you, they are a part of you, son.

I love you both so much! John blubbered. I’ve missed you! His words could not express the flood of emotions John felt as he communed with the gathering around him. The surreal reunion continued for hours until the curious souls had gotten their chance to visit with their living prodigy. Satisfied, many of them returned to the enlightened depths of the darkness beyond, from whence they came.

At last, only John, his parents, and Max remained in the chamber together. John’s mother got his attention, motioning at the panel just beyond his doppelganger. Confused, John shot a perplexed look at his mother, but she invited him again to face the panel.

You’ll see, her lips read.

John turned past his self-image to illuminate the next panel. As he did so, all his ancestors disappeared, but thankfully, his close family within the room remained. The profile of a young and beautiful woman emerged as the new panel illuminated. John’s heart throbbed and he watched, spellbound. Then, the stone began to flicker as time elapsed for the woman in the image. She was pregnant and turned to embrace John, who had emerged in the vision as his future self. In it, he knelt to listen to her womb. John looked at his mother in shock.

My son? John mouthed, and as his mother nodded.

The gem flickered again, and John watched as visions of his son against the chamber walls, now five years old and dressing for his first day in school. The next flicker revealed the child grown into a young man, but the gem began to emit a tone and radiate heat as the vision progressed. The noise became deafening the heat intensified as John raised his hands to his ears. Unable to watch him bracing anymore, John’s mother stepped before him.

Don’t …, she said.

All in due time—some ignorance is good.

John nodded and returned to the panel of his ancestors and stood in silence. His father pointed at the gem.

Protect it, he impressed upon John, for your future.

Pass it on to your son.

John nodded again, but as he did, a fissure ripped open in the center of the room. The distortion grew, and with it a threat in his mind, causing John to step back. Another portal had seemingly emerged, just like the one that opened earlier. John shared apprehensive glances with his parents. As he watched, they began to fade.

No! John exclaimed, emotionally exhausted.

It’s too soon! It was always too soon!

Go, my son! his father said. We know. We love you, always, my boy!

We’re always with you, John! his mother said as they both faded from view.

No! John blurted again, but they were gone.

The fissure grew till it reached the ceiling, crackling wildly and sending bolts of energy into the surrounding walls. The panels flickered in random patterns as the energy surged through them. Decidedly dangerous, John wiped away his tears and exited the chamber, putting the gem in his pocket.

Turning back one last time, John lunged out of the entrance, exiting as quickly and quietly as he could. Behind him, the portal stabilized in the center of the room, creating a chorus of surreal tones as it did. Exiting the projection beyond the chamber door, he sprinted past the Visitor Center and continued until he arrived where the park road met the highway. From there, John walked the tree line down the highway as daybreak streamed bands of color overhead. John fought to remain alert as the adrenalin waned and exhaustion set in. Trekking several miles, he finally arrived at a 24-hour drugstore. From there, John called for a cab and resumed his journey back to the base. The raw emotions of his reunion gradually receded with the morning sky, but his mind relentlessly replayed the night before.

The sight of the gate guard waving John through spurred his memory, and for the first time, he realized he had negligently left Marcus’s climbing gear behind. The surreal experience evaporated, giving way to a million ways he might retrieve the gear, and a million excuses to tell Marcus. However, nothing fit like a sincere apology. Perhaps the cadet honor code was wearing off on him, he thought. After all, although technically not lying, through omission it may be perceived as such. However, John resolved that he could never reveal to anyone what occurred after he fell.

How could I ever make any sense of what I saw?

Besides, those details had nothing to do with Marcus or his missing equipment. Any weak explanation would not help, since Marcus would be mainly concerned about how John failed to meetup as planned.

No one would ever believe what I just went through. I bet Marcus is pissed.

John’s wall clock obligingly read 5:35 AM when he entered their room, just minutes before an alarm Marcus had set. He immediately sat up from his bed. John could tell by the look on his face that he had hardly slept. They stared at each other in silence for a moment before Marcus exploded.

Where the fuck were you, John? Marcus yelled. He swore a lot when he was mad. I stayed there till they fucking closed! What kind of a patsy do you think I am?

I fell, John explained, pointing at his battered arms and ending Marcus’s tirade. I fell and I just passed out. I’m sorry.

You fell! Marcus exclaimed, Jesus, he said to himself as he stood and briefly examined John’s arm. He then turned and proceeded to dress for exercising as he continued his line of questioning. As a member of the Academy Wrestling Team, Marcus routinely trained early on weekends or met with team members to do strength training. Although he was bound for a miserable workout this day, Marcus would never fail to show. Are you okay? Marcus asked. We looked all over for you! Montezuma, right?

Yeah, John explained, I fell through … I mean, where I fell you never would have seen me. I just woke up in the dark early this morning, but I’m alright, though, yeah.

You were there overnight? Marcus asked. Holy … are you sure you’re okay? I mean … well, thank God! Marcus sighed, greatly relieved. Then, as if a curious thought occurred to him, he tensed, Wait … where’s my gear?

John looked on unfazed as he shrugged in response. His lack of candor drew Marcus’s anger, and John reflexively squinted in anticipation.

What the fuck do you mean you don’t know? Marcus shouted. What the hell did you do with my g… you know what? he said as he turned to exit. I’ve got to go but I’ve had it! That’s fuckin twice enough for me from you, pal! I trusted you, John. At that, Marcus slammed the door and left the dormitory.

John knew he couldn’t share anything with Marcus, or anyone else for that matter. He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of his experience himself, to be honest. Although leaving Marcus’s gear was unintentional, it had conveniently a buffer from any further explanation. Aside from that, John was thankful Marcus had not reported him missing as he could and likely should have. The Academy leadership had harshly dealt with others for far less than climbing in a restricted area. Such reckless behavior, especially the illegal and dangerous kind, should have gotten him kicked out.

I sense fates aligning in all this somehow, not chance.

As for Marcus, John knew him all too well. With John’s safe return, Marcus would salvage the weekend by chasing skirts at the local club. For him, there simply was no other business more pressing. Marcus typically recruited John for such evening endeavors. However, John had a feeling that this evening Marcus would go solo or with someone else. The broken trust between the two would be hard to mend. John’s cryptic explanation for his disappearance had soured their relationship. Marcus could care less about the gear.

* * * * * *

Vláda and a small team of Shadow Cultists emerged from the portal. Upon surveying the chamber, he immediately dispatched his team in search of the gem. Cultists from the Vanguard did not normally engage in such investigations, especially ones within the home dimension. With far more experience in the home dimension, the Palisades were generally better equipped to pursue such matters. However, due to the sensitivity of this investigation, Vanguard Minister Vláda had been personally selected by the Shadow Cult Master, Neos. In fact, none of the other ministers were aware of the incident, and Neos had no intentions of releasing any details of their inquiry. The Council would never have sanctioned a foray into the Sun Cell, thus Neos had secretly authorized it himself. Vláda had activated his team mere hours after operatives failed to provide a scheduled update, rightly concluding their mission had been compromised. The timing could not have been worse.

Desperate to conceal their failed operation, Vláda’s instructions were to uncover the whereabouts of the gem, as well as take any necessary steps to bury evidence of their quest. Before their last report, the Cultist operatives had indicated they were in pursuit of a Shadow Creature they believed had a gem. Without knowing more, Vláda had no choice but to launch his investigation. After scouring the vicinity of the two dead Cultists and the dead herder with an empty satchel, they declared the gem missing. Vláda’s focus shifted to uncovering the whereabouts of the missing gem, while discretely handling any messes that arise. He could not afford any revelations surrounding their mission; especially concerning the missing gem.

Their blissful ignorance at all costs.

Vláda stepped outside the chamber and into the small surrounding area covered by the projection. The Shadow Cult had closed public access to the Montezuma formation, because seismic activity in the area in recent years had exposed the chamber’s entrance. The projection was originally intended to conceal the exposed chamber entrance, while work rebuilding the eroded portions of the formation was completed. Such restorations were normally a priority for the Palisade and planet-side Shadow Techs.

Curious none of that work has yet begun.

There were few priorities more crucial to the Cult than maintaining the utmost secrecy of critically sensitive sites like chambers. Over its history, the Cult had gone to great lengths to avoid such revelations. Culling public ignorance remained a key aspect of blissfully exploiting the humans from behind a veil of shadows.

Search the area, Vláda commanded his team, I want to know what happened here.

The morning sun crept across the sky as his team finished their initial search of the surrounding terrain. The disturbances around the chamber entrance exterior pointed to an encounter, or struggle of some kind. This perplexed Vláda, since Shadow Herders were incapable of existing outside a chamber.

Only after the gestation, Vláda thought.

The struggle outside the chamber lacked any reasonable explanation, forcing the inconvenient possibility someone else had brawled with the dead operatives. When Vláda’s team discovered John’s climbing gear nearby the chamber entrance, all lingering doubts disappeared.

Leave it in the park’s Lost and Found, Vláda explained, and we’ll see if anyone tries to claim it. For now, shut this chamber down and purge it from the network, effective immediately. And I want the site itself buried completely.

The team quickly fenced off the surrounding area with the assistance of nearby Cult followers, who would bury the chamber in the sandstone. By noon, Cult followers began submerging the chamber beneath the formation, entombing the chamber along with the bodies inside. A Cultist also met the local park crew as they arrived for their morning shift at the Visitor Center, dropping off the climbing equipment specifically for Kenneth Dougham. A terse phone call to Kenneth followed the drop off, tasking him with identifying whoever retrieved the equipment.

Cult followers like Kenneth supported the Cult in key ways. Easily recruited, yet so effective at unwittingly cultivating their own demise. Typically some relation to Cultists, the followers provided a loyal cadre embedded from local communities to regional posts in governments worldwide. Not travelers themselves, they could never become Cult members. Nevertheless, through unwavering loyalty and support to the Cult, including frequent participation in consumption, they strove to curry favor. Rampant rumors among followers suggested that close associations with Cultists might reap certain benefits members enjoyed. Above all else, followers craved the secrets to achieving immortality, as Cultists appeared to have done. Although never allowed access such jealously guarded knowledge, patience and observation over time had enabled followers to glean scant inferences. However, the bulk of Cult knowledge remained a mystery, and Cultists employed the gossip to incentivize followers into complete subservience and blind loyalty.

Ever since old man Smith had retired 15 years ago, Kenneth had over-seen the Visitor Center at the Garden of the Gods. The position wasn’t a fluke. Rather, the Cult had ensured that the job was his because of his connection with them going back many years. As a young Boy Scout, Kenneth stumbled upon the Montezuma chamber. Caught by the Cult at the time, Kenneth was sworn to secrecy. Enthralled by their secret organization, and having no close relations, friends, or meaningful connections of his own, Kenneth quickly succumbed to the allure of the Cult, which thoroughly corrupted him with its veiled promises. Repaying his loyalty, the Cult arranged status and responsibility for him. They told him they would open doors that only they knew existed. They promised him a long and lucrative life, with a stable career. For these things he must keep the chamber a safe and well-hidden secret. In this way, Kenneth was useful.

Much to the chagrin of his co-workers, shortly after Kenneth joined Parks and Recreation his career skyrocketed. He became the youngest Center Manager the agency had ever known, eventually succeeding old man Smith and catapulting into the regional management position, despite lacking the qualifications. This did not bother Kenneth in the slightest.

To those who knew him, Kenneth was a boorish slob, always looking for nothing to do or someone to blame. His arrogance matched his high opinion for himself, and his only obsession was with the Cult. Kenneth fawned over Cult members any chance he got. Always seeking superficial ways of impressing them, Kenneth showered them profusely with attention and deference as they transited the park. Generating more annoyance among the Cultists than anything else these days, Kenneth obsessed over gaining an audience among their higher-ups. He insisted that they ought to appreciate him more, bordering upon disobedience unless he got what he deserved. Patience with Kenneth was wearing thin.

Kenneth had set up a restricted zone at the Montezuma face’s base after the chamber’s entrance became exposed. This did not stop onlookers from accessing the rest of the formation, however. Kenneth eventually sealed the surrounding area off to the public entirely, but only after relenting to pressure from the Cult to do so. Since obtaining his position as Regional Manager he divided his attention across multiple facilities and several states, chronically neglecting the Cultists imperatives. In fact, the surrounding area had slid into disrepair over the years, making the facility increasingly difficult to access. The recent seismic activity had exacerbated the issues, compelling the Cult to install the projection system and mask the beleaguered entrance. Kenneth had personally supervised the installation of the projection unit, crediting himself for the innovative solution. He reassured the Cult once more their chamber would always stay safely concealed in his charge, despite his flagrant neglect. More empty reaffirmations and delays only convinced the Cult how little worth remained in his word.

Eventually, someone had stumbled onto the site, forcing the Cult to abandon it for good. Sensing their mounting displeasure, Kenneth profusely promised to rectify the situation by uncovering the identity of the mystery climber, as requested.

So, when Marcus arrived at Visitor Center a few days later to inquire about some missing climbing gear, Kenneth brimmed with excitement. At last, a genuine opportunity to prove his value to the Cult, once more. However, rather than delivering the identity, Kenneth opted for something far better. He would be worthy of a Cult member.

Kenneth immediately recognized Marcus when he arrived in the Visitor Center. The big, strapping Marcus was hard to miss. In fact, Kenneth had run into Marcus several times before, unbeknownst to Marcus. They both had spent evenings haunting many of the same dives and bars but with greatly divergent outcomes. Before cadets invaded the local town, Kenneth had enjoyed the favors of the local women. However, these days Kenneth found himself completely outmatched by his hunky challengers, Marcus chief among them. His resentment had grown to a fever pitch, but nothing sang to his soul like an opportunity to even the score. Kenneth would settle this score and do the Cult a favor.

Killing two birds with one stone.

The opportunity arrived for Kenneth that evening when he found himself sharing a bar with his cadet nemesis. Finding the attention Marcus received unbearable, Kenneth drowned his agony in tequila and assured himself tonight he would have his revenge.

The last patrons spilled into the street as the bar closed. Kenneth stood in the shadows watching Marcus stumble down empty streets in search of a cab. Finding his resolve, Kenneth crept silently, knife in hand. Only when his target slipped into an alley did he strike. Swiftly gaining, Kenneth stumbled behind him.

Excuse me, sir? Kenneth slurred, prompting Marcus to turn. As he did, Kenneth reached underneath Marcus’s meaty arm and stabbed him deeply and repeatedly. The selfish, self-interested coward had his vengeance, to his pure satisfaction.

Wh … was all Marcus managed before the piercings began. Kenneth’s frenzied rage ensued until he subdued that damn kid. Elated by his successful conquest, he stood briefly over his vanquished foe. As the rush subsided Kenneth fled, turning back once more to gloat, then sprinting away as Marcus bled out. The blood streaming from his mouth choked him as he sputtered and rolled onto his back. Unable to cry out for help, his broken body struggled to breathe for a while, then succumbed to the carnage.

They’ll promote me for sure now!

The next day, the cadet wing was shaken by the tragic news of a senseless murder of one of their own. The local news swirled with stories surrounding the murder of a cadet in downtown. The Academy leadership reflexively suspended privileges off base, pending the outcome of an investigation by local authorities, and as a precaution.

Cadets were granted a day off to mourn their fallen classmate, and a memorial service was held that afternoon in the base chapel. The following weekend, John attended a separate ceremony held by Marcus’s family. The Academy Superintendent faithfully presided over the event, and several local politicians and luminaries came to pay their respects. An endearing and final tribute by so many, but John was only there to say goodbye to his friend.

Weeks immediately following Marcus’s murder yielded progress as witnesses produced insights into what transpired. Kenneth was among the names that ultimately ruminated. Locals knew Kenneth for making threats and disparaging either Marcus himself or the cadets. Resentment against cadets was common, but Kenneth’s extreme malevolence set him aside, making him a focus of their investigation.

Cult follower contacts covertly embedded within the local police department had kept a pulse on the investigation as it progressed. As evidence emerged implicating a follower in the murder, they dutifully steered the investigation into a dead-end and informed the Cult. Patience had finally worn out for Kenneth. After waiting over a month for word on visiting climbers, the time had come pay Kenneth a visit, instead.

Kenneth pulled into his driveway one evening after a day at the Regional Office reviewing expansion projects planned throughout his region. He remained ultimately responsible for their completion, although contractors carried out the work. For Kenneth, the calculus of responsibility was simple. He deflected, delayed, or delegated decisions presented to him, diminishing his responsibility for outcomes as much as possible. The contractors quickly discovered the futility of seeking his input or direction, often leaving his presence more embittered and confused than when they had arrived. From Kenneth’s perspective, he could hardly lower himself to dwell on their concerns or entertain their petty squabbles. Ignorance was bliss. Convenient, since the Cult now limited information to him while their discrete investigation continued.

Without the portal, the Cult presence in the area had vanished. Perceiving he had lost significant influence or importance to the Cult unsettled Kenneth. He considered reaching out to Cult contacts he knew within the police department, but he feared them. So, he sat on what he had done.

Silence dominated following the attack. Nothing unusual had occurred since the day he had killed that cadet. Quite the opposite, his work routine became increasingly monotonous. Lulled into lowering his guard, the home invasion by three Cult members came as a complete surprise. He last remembered entering his house and walking into the kitchen when something struck the back of his head.

Kenneth awoke in his basement, tied to one of his kitchen chairs. Vláda looked on and leaned against one of his stools, while one Cultist pointed a gun at Kenneth and the other stood behind him and held a rope, seemingly attached around his neck. Kenneth blubbered and snorted feverishly, but through the gag, it came out as garbled nonsense.

We’re not really here to listen to what you have to say, Kenneth, Vláda said, flatly. Actually, you’re here to listen to us.

Kenneth drew still as his eyes widened, darting between the noose tied around his neck and the rope that ran over a wooden beam in his basement overhead. He whimpered in disbelief, afraid to return Vláda’s gaze.

Do you have any idea how long that chamber has been there? Vláda asked, breaking Kenneth’s focus on the rope. You know, the one you were entrusted to maintain and keep secret from the public at all costs? Of course not, but that chamber predates almost every structure on this entire continent, second only to one other chamber, in fact. The Cult has used it for centuries for many purposes. It was one of the locations where the founding interdimensional fabric of our Cult was woven. It was an immensely critical cornerstone, which every one of us once used routinely. Then, of course, other facilities, other locations emerged across time and space. We changed and our ways evolved, to where many of our original chambers fell into disuse. However, don’t let that fool you. They were never diminished in their importance, if not simply for their historical significance …

A Cult member slugged Kenneth in the gut. The blow, absorbed mostly by Kenneth’s stomach, caused him to reflexively slump over in the chair. Sweat streamed over his eyes and dripped onto his feet. A bitter taste swelled in his mouth as he gagged in pain. He wrung his hands tied behind him slowly, attempting to loosen his restraints.

Or, its need to remain secret! Am I boring you? Vláda asked as he leaned in.

Kenneth heaved breathlessly and squinted. The Cultist behind him grabbed his hair and tore his head upward until he faced Vláda again.

Please, pay attention, Vláda continued, "after all, this story is the least I could offer you for your years of stewardship to our chamber. After the many years of neglect and reckless exposure, and recent incidents, shall we say—how should we repay you, Kenneth?"

Kenneth rolled and bucked his chair in a frenzy; trying desperately to speak through the tape. Vláda nodded to the armed Cultist who obliged by cruelly ripping the tape off, then bludgeoning Kenneth across his face.

Kenneth spat, gagged, and strained to speak. It was all for you, Kenneth gasped. All I ever did was to serve you. I took care of him … I did it for you!

If you did it for us, Kenneth, Vláda started, then why did you kill him?

The room fell silent again as Vláda’s question filled Kenneth’s face with fear. Shooting from the hip, he scrambled for words. I … I did it for you! Kenneth repeated. I wanted to help. I only meant to serve you!

Serve us, Vláda parroted, by drawing attention to yourself, to us—by neglecting our chamber, and allowing visitors access? By exposing yourself to the authorities, and thus exposing us all? Tell me how you were serving us!

Kenneth sobbed and wheezed as sweat streamed down his face. Look … I … I’m sorry. P-Please … I’m sorry … so sorry, please … he pleaded softly, burying his face in his neck.

You know what, Kenneth? Vláda sneered as he lifted Kenneth’s head, I think it’s time you get what’s coming to you! Vláda then nodded to the other Cultist, who hoisted Kenneth into the air by his neck. Kenneth kicked his chair aside as he twisted and strained to breathe. The salty, bitter taste returned to his mouth as he struggled and then went still.

* * * * *

On a weekend pass several months later; John borrowed a class-mate’s car. Promising to return with a full tank, he made another trip to the Visitor Center. From there, he hiked to the Montezuma formation for a look. Unfortunately, the area encircling the site was fenced off. Signs posted every few feet warned of imminent risks to life and limb to anyone venturing through the area. John scoffed.

They just don’t want people going in there.

From the fence line, John could see the clearing where he had found the chamber entrance a few months earlier. However, from where he stood the area surrounding the formation base seemed significantly different. With a cursory peek over his shoulder, John quickly scaled the fence and approached the rock formation.

Risk my ass.

There was no projection this time, no illusions or unexplained entrances. Whatever had been there before was now buried beneath mountains of debris. John squeezed the jewel in his pocket as he examined the rest of the nearby area. Nothing.

Like it never existed.

Disappointed, he somberly returned to the car. Returning to campus, he thought about the promises he made to his father. Although brief, the visit had revived nostalgic memories of his communion. His life would never be the same. He felt the immutable bond, forged between him, his past, and the future. Uncertainty and aimless intentions had given way to expectations and destiny. Fueled by the many hopes and memories in his vision, he clutched the jewel tightly in his hand as his path forward unfurled before him.

For you, my son!

* * * * *

The conscious called him, stronger this time, in a silent mind at twilight as it had done all his life, but Thomas was asleep. He had slowly drifted away from a long weary day, only to somehow jolt back awake to the torment of this unfamiliar place. His glazed eyes found their focus on the asphalt beneath him, gripped by both his hands, as he lay prone in the middle of the street, alone and in the dark. Feeling very vulnerable, he unconsciously and unsuccessfully attempted to camouflage himself, while heightening his own sense of awareness. Glancing to his right, the warmth he felt from his side was the bright glow from flames licking the hood of a small wrecked car, with a soft patter heard nearby of a slow drain coming from the passenger side door. Gifted with maturity beyond his years, the momentary disorientation was replaced by an acute awareness and sudden fear of the indistinguishable noises surrounding him in an endless chorus of deathly screams and terror. His gaze focused on the windshield, with a seemingly thick cover of red—no, of blood.

The sounds, the screams, the heat from nearby flames, the smell of rot and grease seemingly flooded his senses as Thomas raised himself from face down in the street. Straightening his arms, bewilderment filled his mind with questions, equally fueling fear and curiosity. Sensing no immediate danger, he raised himself to his feet and soaked up his surroundings for several moments. The narrow alley was littered with the wreckage of cars strewn aside here and there, indiscriminately. Finding enough light to avoid the shards of glass surrounding his bare feet, Thomas took a cautious step forward, beyond what he could have seen. Past the billowing smoke, lay an inanimate and bloodied figure strewn just as indiscriminately as the rest of the wreckage around him. His fear and apprehension grew as he drew closer to the inhuman shape, until the pestilent stench of the gray-blue corpse overtook him. Observing the lifeless translucent eyes that appeared too large for the face of the hideous beast, he contemplated its savage nature. The grotesque creature boasted serrated claws and what appeared to be talons that covered each of its arms. Lonely strands of long, grisly hair covered the beast like a balding head. The contorted shape hid two massive hinged legs, mounted with even larger talons.

As Thomas studied the creature a sharp shriek in the near distance startled him from his trance, and he stumbled, but caught himself, regaining his balance on a nearby hood. Glancing in the car, Thomas made out what was left of the head of the passenger in the vehicle, sitting upright as if it was attentively waiting for him to finish his thoughts. Thomas gasped at the carnage, seemingly to the disappointment of the corpse, and turned sharply away. Walking farther down the narrow street, Thomas saw what he initially believed was a bent lamppost, but as he approached the post, it appeared to be emitting a strange soft glow and was clearly far too short to be a light post of any kind. Departing from his path again, Thomas bent down to wield the strange white, glowing scepter. In his grasp, he felt a sudden flood of energy, as if filling him with confidence and a desire to continue through the darkness.

As he reached the end of the alley, the distant but steadily louder rumble signaled an imminent arrival. The comfort the scepter provided evaporated as he dropped it and hid behind the cab of a truck whose bed was nowhere to be found. Although mostly hidden from him, Thomas saw this beastly creature roll by like a giant pill with tentacles stretched out to either side, then disappear out of sight. As the rumbling subsided, Thomas almost took comfort in the return of the calamity of his surroundings once again. The cityscape around him looked so familiar, and yet nothing seemed, as it should. Dreams, Thomas reasoned, draw from life experiences but comingle in dreamscapes such as this one with his emotions in bizarre and unpredictable ways. Yet, this was much more vivid and immersive than any dream had ever been, and nothing Thomas could recall connected to the environment around him. He arrived at a dark pet store as he walked down the main thoroughfare. Thomas cupped his hands and peeked inside the storefront. From the darkened gloom, Thomas could make out the dingy shop. It appeared for the most part in order, except for a single cage laying near the cash register on its side and open. Thomas imagined a benevolent shop owner releasing some cat or other small animal they felt stood a better chance of surviving the calamity outside the cage.

Suddenly, an animalistic noise from across the street drew his attention. Fear swelled and renewed within him, and he collapsed behind another burning car as the noises turned into distinct snarls and growls. Through the darkness of the glass windows on the first floor of the building across the street, Thomas heard the flurry of fighting as a struggle raged back and forth. Flashes of gunfire erupted, accompanied by maddening shrieks of pain and rage. Thomas wasn’t sure if the raucous commotion was more welcome, or the eerie ambient street.

Glass burst into the street jostling Thomas back to the commotion unfolding before him, as two figures rolled through the glass doors and spilled into the street. The creature rolled to its feet, taking a few moments to soak in its new surroundings before returning its gaze to the man, laying on his back, struggling to find his footing through the shards of glass and blood. Every calculated stride manifested the