WATCHERS

The silence that follows the clicks is suffocating, a void that fills the air so completely I almost long for the unnerving sounds to return. My breathing feels loud, intrusive, as though it might draw the watchers back. My grip on the knife tightens, my knuckles aching from the strain, but I don't dare loosen it. Sol's light pulses faintly, no longer steady, and his breaths sound ragged, shallow.

The oppressive quiet feels alive, pressing against the walls of the container and squeezing at my chest. I glance at the others, still blissfully unaware of the danger that claws at the edges of our fragile haven. Blade shifts slightly in her sleep, her face briefly illuminated by Sol's glow, and I feel an odd pang of envy for the peace she's managed to find.

A new sound pierces the quiet—a low, resonant hum, almost too deep to hear but impossible to ignore. It vibrates through the container, rattling the rusted walls and setting my teeth on edge. My scars throb painfully, the word "RUN" burning into my flesh like a brand.

Sol stirs, his glow faltering again. I move toward him, unsure of what I can do but desperate to keep the light alive. "Sol," I whisper, crouching beside him. "Are you okay?"

His eyes flicker open, their usual warmth replaced by something distant and unreadable. "It's harder now," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. "They're stronger at night."

Before I can respond, a loud crash echoes from outside, followed by the unmistakable sound of metal tearing. I whip around, my heart pounding in my ears. The wall of the container nearest the gap bulges inward, the jagged edges of the tear glowing faintly in the dim light.

"They're coming," I whisper, more to myself than anyone else.

Sol struggles to sit up, his glow brightening slightly as he clenches his fists. The light seems to push back the darkness, but only just. The red eyes return, more of them now, clustering around the torn metal like vultures. They glint and shift, and for the first time, I see the shadows they belong to—elongated, twisted forms that move with unnatural grace they seem to stiffly vanish from vision if the creatures from the mist moved liked water then the watchers where air, they seemed incapable of staying still, vanishing from vision and reappearing in other locations in mere moments, faster than I could even blink no faster than I could even begin to blink.

A chorus of growls rises from the pack, a deep, resonant sound that reverberates through the air like the roar of a storm. The first figure steps forward, its shape humanoid but wrong, its limbs long and, bent. joints going the opposite way from where they should in a human yet it walked as if copying no mocking our way of movement. its movements smooth as it slowly walked closer. slowly, it wanted me to see it, to see it walk. Its face—or what should be a face—a writhing mess of pale flesh, its edges twitching without rest the only constant on it's face being two glowing red orbs.

The scratching resumes, more frantic this time, as if the watchers are tearing at the edges of reality itself. I stand frozen, my body screaming at me to move, to fight, to run, but I can do none of those things. The creature at the gap tilts its head as though studying me, it's face seems to break slowly as a mess of scattered yellow teeth were revealed around a pitch black gaping vacuum—it's mouth a noise that starts as a growl but morphs into a low, mocking cackle.

"Not fast enough, meat."

The words send a jolt through me, pulling me from my paralysis. I spin around and shake Blade awake, my voice harsh and urgent. "They're here. Wake up, now!"

Her eyes snap open, immediately alert, and she grabs her blade from her side, the name fitting her like a second skin. The others stir, confusion and fear flashing across their faces as they register the growls and cackles outside.

"What's happening?" Tin asks, his voice trembling.

"They're breaking through," Blade says, her tone steady despite the fear in her eyes.

Grey stands, pulling his glove off and exposing the scarred circle on his hand. It glows faintly, pulsing in time with Sol's light. "We hold them back," he says, his voice calm and resolute.

The wall of the container groans, and another section buckles inward. The watchers are relentless, their elongated limbs reaching through the gaps, clawing at the air as though tasting it. Sol pushes himself to his feet, his glow intensifying with effort. The heat from it washes over us, and the creatures recoil slightly, their growls turning to hisses.

"Stay close to me," Sol says, his voice strained but firm. "The light will keep them at bay."

We gather around him, forming a tight circle as the watchers press closer. Their movements are erratic, their forms shifting and distorting as if they are made of the night itself. The red eyes blaze like fire, and the air grows colder despite the heat of Sol's glow.

"Runner," Blade snaps, her voice cutting through the chaos. "Watch the gaps. Don't let them get a hold of anyone."

I nod, my focus sharpening as I move toward the nearest breach. The creature there snarls, its void-like face inches from mine, and I slash at it with my knife. The blade cuts through the air, meeting no resistance, but the creature retreats slightly, its growl turning into a low, angry hiss.

Behind me, Sol's light flickers again, and the shadows surge forward. Tin and Hound fight to push them back, their weapons clanging against the rusted walls as they strike at the encroaching limbs. Grey's scar glows brighter, and with a sweep of his hand, a burst of light emanates from him, forcing the watchers to retreat further.

But it's not enough.

The creatures regroup, their growls and cackles blending into a chilling cacophony. The air feels heavy, oppressive, as though the night itself is trying to smother us. Sol stumbles, his glow dimming, and the creatures press closer, their movements more aggressive.

"We have to move," Blade says, her voice tight. "Now."

"But where?" Tin asks, his voice barely audible over the noise.

"Anywhere but here," I say, my scars burning with the urgency to run.

Sol grits his teeth, his glow flaring one last time, and we seize the moment. Blade leads the way, her blade flashing in the dim light as she carves a path through the shadows. We follow close behind, the watchers' growls and cackles chasing us into the night.