“It looks like…an abandoned theme park!” Coralia looks around in awe. Rides, attractions, booths, and counters dotted throughout the area. The sheer size of this place is incomprehensible. I’ve never such an area in the Capital dedicated to only one purpose. This park itself could hold 2 whole housing districts and still have enough space for a large mansion like mine. Though, its size is the only thing I can say that is grand about this place.

Vines and moss grow covers the area in a layer of dirty green. The joyous lights and fixtures all shattered and broken. Some lucky rides are merely deformed whereas the rest are toppled over by the Forest, its extensive growth of violent branches and deadly roots intruding into this place of joy. What was once a dream-like paradise bustling with kids has turned into a nightmarishly eerie ghost town.

Coralia, however, seems completely unfazed by this atmosphere. She runs around, as if this place was still full of life. She gawks at the rides, mesmerized by the rides . I can almost see sadness in her eyes, craving to experience it herself. Eventually, I decide that I shouldn’t wait for her to calm down and I head off to explore the place myself.

We no longer have any supplies, so I’m forced to loot the ruins because blatantly, my ‘partner’ has my back and is clearly helping me gather food and water. Even though the map is heavily damaged and covered by plantation, it’s fortunately still somewhat readable. I scan through the map, trying to find anywhere that I could raid for resources. I settle for the staff lounge, the only building there that has a direct route. Danger.

The staff lounge is barely holding together, the sign no longer intelligible, scratched away by the elements. I trust that my memory is working and the route I chose took me to the right building. Though, it’s hard to trust myself, more so with the strange whisper and loss of control of my body.

I take a deep breath and step through the shattered the glass doors. The lounge is shrouded in darkness, barely lit up by dim rays of light passing through the cracks in the ceiling. My eyes take a moment to adjust, but it doesn’t make the room any brighter. From the little I can see, the roots and branches showed no mercy in tearing the place apart; Tables and chairs are overturned; the sofa and beanbags are impaled by the thorns, the fabric already corroding away, its insides spilled out.

The air is stagnant, the cracks too small to properly vent it. In fact, the lounge is so still, it’s as if I’m walking straight into a freeze-frame. A walk-in picture, if you will. Though, despite the beauty of this dilapidated pile of waste, I know I can’t let my guard down.

I’m not the only one here. Danger.

Despite the dim lighting, the depression in the mud are as clear as day. Almost like a trail for me to follow, the footsteps lead off into the darkness. Whatever it is, it’s still in there. There’s only one trail of footsteps into the building. Only one.

I can’t see much into there, but I’m guessing – more of hoping – that there’s probably another section to the building. It definitely looks big from the outside, so it is a logical deduction. It’s possible that the creature is so far deep, that I can loot the place before it even has a chance to notice me. Knowing this slight chance for escaping alive with food and water, I ready myself to dash in. Before I can do so, though, I got a closer look at the footsteps. Human footsteps. It’s not just a creature. This place is not as abandoned as I thought. I’m sure Coralia didn’t venture this far out, I kept a close eye on her before I went here, and even then, she didn’t pass me or did anything that could’ve signaled her coming to this place. But despite all that, at least I know- Breathe.

I take a choked breath, and that’s when I realise. My throat was already bubbling with fear. Quite literally. Before I could react, my body bends over and I vomit. My throat feels scratched and my belly feels like it’s been dissolved away. My vision goes blurry, turning dark. I mentally prepare myself to faint, but just as quickly as it came, it disappeared.

It was odd. I usually sense the fear rising up, giving me time to brace myself against the upcoming wave of dread. This time, though, I didn’t sense it at all. I felt… normal for once. Up until the point I start choking on my vomit, of course.

Sheerly out of curiousity, I bend over to inspect what I have regurgitated, only to be horrified. I wanted to know how days without proper nutrition would do to my insides, though, what was before me was beyond unnatural. On the ground, a puddle of the black ink sits on the ground, slowly sinking into the mud. However, I get a peculiar sense of familiarity with this ink, like it’s calling out to me. Enter.

With almost no hesitation, I step in, an unusual mix of fear and pseudo-bravery stirring in me. I’m not so sure if it’s because of the silence but the whispers see to get louder, almost like a manipulative voice instead of a just passing whisper.

However, I still listen.

Not before long, I find myself enveloped in the darkness, my legs still subconsciously moving my body forwards, step by step. I can’t see anything; I can hear nothing but the squish of the mud as I foot sinks in it; My hands can grasp onto nothing, despite my best efforts at groping around. Although I only recently got this odd premonition power of mine, I seem to find myself trusting it entirely. It has saved me before, why wouldn’t it do it again? Door.

I reach out and, as I’ve been told, I feel a door handle. I push through it to reveal a corridor, much better lit. It’s not that much of a mystery of why when I look at the huge cracks on the walls and large holes in the ceiling. The floor is covered in rubble and dust, the vegetation intertwined with the concrete. The corridor is lined with lockers, though most of them are either blocked or damaged beyond salvation.

However, my theory was right. I see a faint trail of footsteps through the concrete powder, again leading straight ahead and into the unknown. Though, I can confirm whoever it is does not share my agenda. None of the lockers look tampered or opened. Although, that adds to the mystery of this person, I decide to look on the bright side. Anything that would’ve been here would all be mine to gather.

I immediately get to work, testing every locker I pass. I managed to gather a small fanny pack, a crushed empty plastic bottle and an expired chocolate bar. Not much, but it’s more than I’ve eaten in the past few days. I’m willing to risk food poisoning to escape starvation. As for water, I’m sure we can find a stream or a river up ahead.

Slightly defeated, I decide to risk using the little energy I still have to pry open the broken lockers. I study the lockers to find any possible to salvage what’s inside. Looking closely, the doors may have been damaged when the ceiling crumbled, the large chunks of concrete denting the locker. This may mean that the locking mechanism are jammed, but it also means that I have a chance to find a small hole, then force it open using a stick as leverage.

Knowing this, I quickly head to the closest root that I can see, form my gauntlet and try slice the root out. The glass shards is sharp enough to impale the cyborg metal. I don’t see why the same weapon can’t be used against mere wood. Dodge!

I jump to the side just as the Forest retaliates, the root lurching out towards me, branching out from where it was strike. I managed to narrowly miss the attack. I heaved a sigh of relief, thankful for the enigmatic voices in my head. Letting down my guard was a mistake.

The next thing I knew another root emerged from the ground and was aimed straight for my neck. My reflexes took over and pulled myself towards the wall, my body painfully sliding on the rough floor. I quickly stood up and ran toward the exit, trying to get a good distance from the overgrowth. Panting, I turn around and see the waste laying before me.

The single strike of the gauntlet was reciprocated by a rush of roots, branching out so extensively, it’s almost impossible to trace. What was created from such hatred was a wall of thorny shrubs, forming almost a blockade that prevented any way through. I truly am lucky. If I was on the other side, I’d be trapped.

At that moment, I hear a soft but rhythmic sound. It’s like a metal pole slowly tumbling down a stairwell. The roots must’ve damaged a pipe somewhere below. I decided to brush this aside and opt for prioritizing my life over my curiosity. After heaving another sigh of relief, I make my way out of the staff lounge, using the dim light from the corridor to guide myself. Stay.

I stop moving, though not because I chose to listen to the voice. No matter how true this voice is, it feels unlikely that any amount of safety can arise by just staying in this threat-infested wasteland. My body freezes, physically unable to move and unresponsive to my commands. I fruitlessly struggle against this mental barrier of mine, but my limbs stay put. I resort to merely looking around, and fortunately I look down and see veins of black spread through my arms. Under my skin, I feel an odd and unsettling sensation as the ink slithering down my limbs and snaking up my neck. I start to panic, my vulnerability and helplessness becoming increasingly obvious to the threats in the Forest, or even whoever is hiding in here.

The very thought of the other trespasser clears my mind just long enough for me to notice something. The rhythmic sound has not stopped. Now that I think about it, it doesn’t sound resonant enough to be either a metal pipe or echoing up a stairwell. Not only that, even if my initial guess was correct, it should’ve been progressively softer, even more so with the fact that I ran quite a bit from the Forest root. The sound, however, isn’t getting softer.

In fact, it’s getting louder and moving closer – much, much closer.

I try to scream for help, only remembering Coralia’s existence, but again, the ink reveals the extent of its possessive powers over my body. Only a mere muffled scream escapes me. Oh great... now, I’m not only vulnerable, I sound like a fool.

“Well, well, well. Look who the cat dragged in.” A slow, relaxed voiced lulls me as the trespasser continues walking closer, the rhythmic sound following him as he speaks, his voice too low to be a female. I feel a sense of dread creeping up my spine. My back is turned against him. He could easily kill me. A knife straight into my back.

“Don’t look so worried, Reynold. The demon in you would kill the whole world before it allows itself to die. It’s already killed millions.” He walks to my side, the dim light slightly reflecting off what seems to be a metallic shoulder armor plate. How does he know who I am? And what demon is he referring to? The ink? But how could the ink have killed millions if it was always trapped in the orb. Even then, the only killing the ink has done was the horde of the cyborgs living in the border walls, and I’m sure there was not millions of cyborgs stuffed in there.

He continues his ominous approach. As he creeps to my front, the metal clanking stops abruptly, quickly replaced by the soft squish of the mud beneath him on every step he takes. From the little I’ve seen, he seems unusually calm and collected, despite him admitting that I seem to possess a genocidal demon in me.

“Yes, I do know you. Don’t be surprised. You’re highly valuable to a lot of people, like me and Coralia” He finally moves in front of me, revealing his true nature. What stands before me was not a human. It was a cyborg, though refined and not as delirious as the others I’ve met before him. His augmentations look like hyper-realistic prosthetic limbs, serving no other reason than for practicality and survivability. He wields no weapon; he has no sharp edges; he has no blood coating his exterior. If anything, I’d argue he’s just a regular human wearing a distorted outfit. However, even after showing no signs of threat and the voice – the same voice that has never lied to me and has saved me on multiple occasions – trusting him completely, I still do not trust him. Please let me leave! I’m gonna die! Safe.

He cautiously reaches out and gently grabs my arm, mesmerized by the pulsating ink coursing through me. Such power, such deadliness, all within my grasp, but yet I have no control over any of it. All just an illusion of power. That’s when I remembered. I don’t need to rely on the ink to save me. Safe

I look down at my right fist to see the glass gauntlet, almost invisible in the darkness. My dad created the orb for one purpose: to control and restrain the entity in it. This means that the only weapon that I can truly control is not the ink, but the gauntlet itself. The gauntlet may be a deformed version of the orb, but it still has the same material. The same power to repel in the ink. Safe.

I focus, tuning out whatever nonsense he starts to ramble as he traces the ink down my arm, and push the ink out of my fist. At first, it seems like another futile attempt to disobey the premonitions, but I slowly regain control over my hand. Danger.

I start panicking. It’s true I planned to completely ignore the voices, but when everything it has said is true, how could I possibly stay calm when I hear that?! My eyes dart towards the cyborg, who still seems harmless and innocent. He hasn’t drilled into my arm to harvest the ink from my body. He has no knife to carve out my heart to use for twisted augmentations. He holds no malice in his eyes. Danger.

I keep going, subtly using my arm to order the glass shards to circle my wrist and spiral up my arm, pushing the ink farther up into my brain, begging for me to stop and listen. When my arm is finally released from being restrained against its will, I move the shards down to my legs, trying to keep the element of surprise. Danger.

“How many lives can be saved with this very control over this…plague… and yet, Coralia wants to drive me away, bury the truth deeper than it should be, hide her family’s mistakes all away.” He looks up at me, almost sympathetically, which I reply with fearful glance to the side. Danger.

“Tell me. How do you control this?”

You don’t. It controls you.

“What are you truly capable of?”

The ink is endlessly capable of killing. I’m endlessly incapable of everything else.

“Why are you keeping the demon contained inside of you? It wants to breathe, it needs to feed, it needs to live.”

And just release the ink to kill anything it desires? How the heck would one say all this with a straight face unless they themselves are equally genocidal?

“I’m surprised you’re still alive, when the ink could’ve easily killed you. I guess it either trusts you completely or you’re much more powerful than you let off, to be able to restrain the demon like this.” He finally looks away and takes a step back, clearly disappointed at my lack of answers. It’s not my fault I can’t talk! But even if I could, I would still keep my mouth shut.

He sighs, defeated. I realise this is my time to strike. I’ve already repelled the ink out of my legs and my right arm, enough to take out someone, even a cyborg. The only stopping me is the wall of fear I’m pitted against. He looks weak, but so do I. Yet, I hold monstrous strength under my skin, what’s stopping him from having the same.

Danger!

“I know you don’t trust me, but you should trust Coralia less. You see, she’s-“

A rock the size of my palm flies towards both of us. The cyborg must have sensed it from behind as he dives out the way, leaving no shield against the projectile. I close my eyes to brace for impact, ready to get my skull cracked. Instead, my head tilts back and a large tentacle made of ink shoots out of my mouth, grabbing the rock and crushing it, before retracting back into me. My mouth feels dry, like I just ate sand or dirt, which if you count the tentacle as my tongue, I technically did.

“You!” Coralia lunges towards the cyborg, gracefully kicking him on the face, where his human side of him partly remains. The cyborg barely had a chance to fight back before Coralia lands another punch, before finally knocking him out with a rock on the ground. The cyborg bleeds a cocktail of blood and a black substance.

“Come on! We have to go!”

Coralia grabs my wrist and starts dragging me out to safety. Danger.

As she runs out, she grabs a large bag on the ground, overflowing with items. Danger.

“It’s okay. I’ll protect you. You’re safe now.” Danger…