It—no—he is unlike anything I've ever seen.

I recognize what he is immediately—a merfolk. His hair is a ravishing coal black and pulled together into a long braid. He has bright aquamarine eyes. He wears a tight, scale-like black suit that accentuates the thick band of muscles in his arms, abdomen and legs.

His skin is a deep shade of olive, looking almost golden. If it isn't for the black, intricate markings running along his neck and arms, he might easily pass off as a very tall human. A strikingly fearsome one, at that.

He seems just as startled to see me. Confusion crosses his features. Unlike the other creatures, he seems to have complete control of his mind. His high dexterity and strength tells me he's not someone that I want to cross paths with.

But that's not the end.

Judging from his expression, he knows what I am.

We study one another. He steps closer to have a better look at me, but I turn and run. As much as he's a gorgeous-looking aquatic hunk, Mom is my top priority on hand.

And whoever this male is, he belongs to them—the creatures that are often mentioned in old folk tales. For years, his kind is what Mom has warned me to stay away from.

Fear crawls across my skin. I don't escape far before he grabs my wrist and pulls me back to meet his blazing gaze. His hand is warm on my skin. Though his lips don't move to speak a word, his eyes convey the question that he is dying to ask.

Who are you?

The arm that he's clutching onto, unfortunately, is my injured one. Pain lances through my shoulder, forcing a pitiful whimper out of me. At my pained expression, the merman releases me and I scurry away from him quickly.

From my vantage point, I can see more shadows lurking in the rain's veil. They're wasting no time closing in on us.

Time to go, Delia.

I don't look back—I run. My soaked sneakers squeak and slap against the gravel as I stumble through the rain blindly. When I throw a quick glance over my shoulder, the merman is nowhere in sight. Strange, is he not coming for me? It makes me doubt myself for a second, wondering if everything that has transpired earlier is a figment of my imagination.

Amidst the chaos and questions swirling in my mind, that the creatures have located me means I need to get out of here fast.

Let's not forget about Mom's disappearance. And Clara. And Mia.

But jeez, this storm is stubborn as hell! I barrel my way through the rain blindly and end up stumbling upon the Old Orchard Beach Historical Museum, which now sits lonely. Abandoned. The country's flag pole that would usually hang high and dignified, has collapsed pitifully. The glass windows are busted. Cracks and holes fill the walls. I don't see any humans so far, at least not the alive ones.

Between the broken windows and the craters through the wall, I choose the latter option. I dive for the biggest one I see, but watch out for my wounded shoulder. Climbing in, I topple onto the ground. A whimper escapes my throat from the searing pain shooting through my shoulders. My bloodied fingers claw across the ground, barely grazing against the sole of a black boot—

Freak. Freak. Freak.

It's a dead body. An older man who wears a dark blue uniform and a cap that screams 'SECURITY'.

I stifle my cry and look away, silently muttering a quick prayer. Poor guard. I don't know how long he has been lying there, but the tips of his fingers are slowly turning black and there's a rotting stench in the air. Thank god he's lying face down, because my stomach is churning in nausea and I'm about to throw up.

I wonder if his family is still alive out there, and if yes, are they waiting for his return?

Somehow, I still have some sense in me to snatch up his abandoned flashlight, mumbling a small apology to his ghost. The gun strap to his belt now holds nothing. It's gone. Someone must have taken it.

This reminds me—I need to hunt for a weapon, too.

I vaguely recall that the security control room was somewhere on the first floor of the building, right near the public entrance. So I grab the security guard's electronic wristband and head there, hoping to find a stock of guns in there, but when I arrive, I realize there was no need for me to unlock the damn room. People must have arrived before me and left the door wide open. The state of the inside can't be anymore disappointing; empty drawers, overturned chairs, and flickering computer screens.

I rummage through the scattered items on the floor, discovering a flare gun and a couple of spare ammo, but I doubt they are useful. Grabbing whatever I can, I head back to the lobby. I clutch my flashlight and the flare gun at my chest like they are my prized possessions, afraid that someone might steal from me any second.

The wind continues to howl outside. My feet pads across the floor, but it's eerily silent that any noise that I make seems to echo several times louder within the building. Familiarity greets me like an old pal. I came here once before, back when the school brought us on a field trip. Apparently, they didn't want to subject us to a boring life of learning from a tablet. They had us physically observe the collections of old artifacts and artworks displayed in the museum. It was boring, but my best friend and I had entertained ourselves by spinning ridiculous stories about the origin of each artifact.

Thinking back to those carefree days, I regret not appreciating them until now. How much I miss them, or rather, crave for them.

Now, the dingy sight saddens me. What is once a white, pristine floor is now covered in muck and leaves. Glass showcases are shattered and old paintings are ripped and inked with bloody claws or handprints. Rooms after rooms I go, and more bodies I stumble upon.

Unable to hold back any longer, I bend over to the corner and retch vomit. Not much comes out because I haven't been eating much, but my body can't suppress the urge. My hand reaches for the wall for support and I lean heavily against it. My vision blurs with tears as frustration hits me. Things are clearly not going in my way and I haven't found Mom yet. Dead or alive, I wouldn't know.

In between heavy breaths, I move on to the next gallery with dim lights and accidentally trip on a body. The clumsy move has me crashing into a nearby glass case, one that's displaying an old marble sarcophagus. An alarm trips, startling me so badly my heart almost leaps to my throat.

"Shit!" I curse under my breath. I've forgotten about the top security of this place. This isn't good. The alarm is going to alert all the monsters in the area about my location. How stupid and clumsy can I possibly get?

Panicking, I run to the next few rooms. The way this museum works is that the route would circle me from the lobby to the galleries and back to the lobby. But this, truthfully speaking, isn't exactly the most ideal plan.

I decide to take the stairs, knowing that I need to put as much distance between me and the monsters. Loud bangs and crashes come from below me. As I sneak a peek over the railing, I spot the fleeting glimpse of mutated creatures chasing after me. Hungry snarls fill my ears. My hands reach for the door, barely making it to the second floor of the museum, until something grabs my ankle and drags me back to the stairwell.

Letting out a loud yelp, I turn and swing my flashlight hard across its face. The white light blinds the hideous creature and it screams in pain, withdrawing itself from me. The result of my doing hits my mind a second later when I realize I've just discovered their biggest weakness.

Light.

They are afraid of light.

A second creature appears from behind, vaults over its friend and towards my direction. Driven by instinct, I raise my flare gun and fire. A burst of red shoots out and hits it right in the chest, causing flames to rupture.

I watch the scene unfold before me, my jaw dropping in pure astonishment as the thing burns and dies before my very eyes. Suddenly, I feel as if I've unlocked another achievement in a game.

Light and fire. Those are the things that the creatures are weak against.