Empty Chains ✔️ | #ONC2019

| Chapt. Eight | Just Fly |

The shrubs get darker and darker as the moon grows thickly layered with clouds. It'd be eerie if not for the absolute lack of light.

As it is, seeing two inches in front of me is difficult.

Walking behind two boys of opposing speeds and paces became interesting in the long run. David thrashed through each bush, breaking off whatever lay in his path and crushing it underfoot. I've been whacked by more than a few, some flying straight through me and others making red marks along my hands and neck.

Noah, however, slid through each area gracefully. He missed almost all the branches by ducking, sidestepping, and gently adjusting as if nature shared some deeper understanding with him.

Tripping head first off a ledge, I'm astonished by Noah's instantaneous grip on my waist and with how much ease he brings me back to his side.

I choke on a breath, looking around wildly.

"You can't see a thing, can you?" He murmurs to me, keeping as quiet as possible to avoid disrupting any strange wildlife or killer.

My fingers curl into his sleeve unconsciously but I don't move, eyes wandering everywhere. The soft fabric is just barely soothing enough to maintain a level of sanity.

He refuses to make true physical contact, leaving me with just enough to follow them out onto a narrow path where I can see the outline of their figures. A thin layer, a centimeter at most. The threads get caught in my nails, snagging just enough to hurt.

Meanwhile, David is cursing. The profanity gets worse the more he's stabbed. I'm sure if we were able to see more, there could be blood somewhere.

"Where the fuck would that sadistic cloak put the exit?" He grumbles, exhaling through his teeth as another cut slices into his cheek.

As if scenting the blood, Noah scrunches up his nose a little bit.

"I don't know, but my guess is that dog is guarding something and we're headed in the wrong direction," I say.

"Or maybe that's what they want us to think," Noah adds, rolling his eyes. "You're practically a ghost, why not slip through the darkness and find the point of entrance."

I frown down at myself, touching my hands together skeptically. Soft, gentle, there was nothing resemblant of smoke. "It's not like I know how to control it, Noah. I'm half convinced it's something purely instinctual."

His body turns towards me and though I cannot see them, I know his eyes are centered perfectly on my own. "Holly, I need you to concentrate. Slip into the shadows and find the point of exit. Then we'll get out of here and everything will be alright."

My hands turn into fists, shaking in fear and frustration. I close my eyes and feel into the darkness, into each and every extension of myself. That is when I notice my sense of awareness doesn't stop near my fingertips and toes. I feel wispy, blurred edges across the entire field and something churning in my chest.

Letting go, I feel my body slip away just as it once had in the cave. A shadowy mist of something far more dangerous than I even knew. Capabilities just out of reach.

I've become the night.

A strange sense of awareness washes over me and I open what I know to be my eyes, only to get a vision of everything.

Lyric clamping a firm hand over her sweaty, tear-stained face. Each sob restrained and agonizing to listen to.

Two guys - likely Wyatt and Connor - dashing through and weaving around trees with the pounding crashes following behind. Large paws only a yard away at most, attempting to swat and swipe out their legs.