Spy in the Shadows

Through the suffocating darkness, two narrow slits of light gleamed a dim, red glow.  They moved back and forth slowly, scanning the Abyss with diligence and precision.  Barely noticeable from more than a few feet away, these two ellipses traced over all the intricate lines of the nothingness into which they gazed. 

He smelled something. 

Something new, but something familiar.  A stench so repulsive that it made his throat close up, his eyes water, his nostrils burn.  The very taste of the air was repugnant, seeping in unwanted through the gaps in his teeth, dancing off the tips of his fangs.  He wanted to cough, but instinct would not let him.  He wanted to…vomit.  What was this foul smell that invaded his home, his private, lonely domain?

Oddly, he knew it.  The first time he caught a whiff of it, memories came rushing back into his head like blood through his veins.  He wasn’t able to sort them out – there were too many – but he felt a sickening deep inside him that.  Hadn’t left him since.

Was it…fear?

He remained silent.  Footsteps? 

Footsteps in the distance caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up.  His eyes narrowed.  His blood pumped faster.  His hearing became more acute.  Yes, there were footsteps coming in the distance, and with each soft pound came another shot of memories from a distant past.

Pain.  Blood.  Severed limbs and oozing black liquid, like oil.  A mound of black dirt in the ground.  A grave?  Yes, a grave with a sword in it.  A sword that blended in with its surroundings in the Abyss, save for its light glow. 

The footsteps were getting closer.  The reasonable answer to this mystery was one that he was not willing or ready to face.  There had to be another reason for these strange noises, these strangely familiar footsteps. 

Step…shadows…Step…Light…Step…Sword…Step…Sins…

Each memory pounded its way into the front of his consciousness. 

No, it cannot be.  This is impossible.

But it was possible.  And it was happening.  Coming closer by the second, he could now put a form to the smells and the noises he was hearing.  A towering creature, broad shoulders, coated in black armor with a helmet that glowed with two red spheres, penetrating the darkness as they looked from side to side.  In his hand a Sword flicked back and forth, slicing the molecules of the air in half as it moved in rhythm with the man carrying it.  Graceful, flowing footsteps carried him across the plane of the Abyss on a sailboat made of armor.  He was hunting.

And I am the hunted.

He receded into the Abyss a little more, crouching down and narrowing his eyes once again.  Paper-thin slits of light spied silently, delicately, at the figure that was coming almost directly towards him.  Though the man showed no signs that he had been spotted, his instincts were telling him in which direction to travel, and there was precious little time to act. 

Through his throat hissed a quiet growl, one that couldn’t be heard and give away his position, but enough to satisfy a small eruption of anger.  Why? his thoughts consumed him.  Why this time?  This is my domain, and he is a trespasser.  A poacher of adventure.  Insolence!

The footsteps were getting louder.  The red orbs in his helmet were getting larger.  The Sword in his hand seemed to sniff him out like a mysterious divining rod. 

Damn it all to hell, he thought, not realizing the irony of what he was saying.  Very well.  I will give him what he desires.  I will give him more than he could have ever imagined.  But not now.  Now is the time for planning.  My toy has entered the playpen once again.

With that, the Beast turned and vanished, leaving behind him no trace of his existence.  The Abyss was then coaxed into silence, except for the quiet, steady footsteps of the man who carried the Sword in his hand and hatred for the Darkness in his heart.

The Hero walked on, unaware.