The old Meridian Stadium sat against the twilight sky like a concrete colosseum, its broken lights casting irregular shadows across the abandoned parking lot. What had once hosted tens of thousands of cheering football fans now served as a hunting ground for creatures that should have existed only in nightmares.
Erel crouched behind the rusted hulk of an overturned truck, binoculars pressed to his eyes as he studied the stadium's exterior. Three years of abandonment had taken their toll, vines covered the lower walls in chaotic spirals, windows lay broken, and weeds pushed through cracks in the concrete. But it was the unnatural elements that made his skin crawl.
Thick, ropey vines had grown across the main entrance, their surfaces gleaming with an oily black substance that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. The vines pulsed with a rhythm that was almost but not quite like a heartbeat, and where they touched the concrete, the stone had begun to warp and bubble as if heated from within. This wasn't normal plant growth; it was something that carried imaginarium within it, pulsing through it slightly.
The air around the stadium felt different, too, thicker somehow, like breathing through wet cloth.
It was the thickness of the imaginarium that stood out, the same sensation he'd learned to associate with places where reality had been stretched thin, where the boundaries between the normal world and something else had begun to blur. Where Imaginarium hummed in the air.
"Count?" Lyra's voice was barely a whisper beside him. She'd positioned herself behind a concrete barrier, her own binoculars scanning a different section of the stadium.
"Seven prowlers outside," Erel murmured back, not lowering his binoculars. "There's movement in the northwest, but the angle's wrong to get a clear view."
"Close, but wrong, there are eight," Lyra spoke with a slight grin.
'Her damn Morrigan abilities.'
The prowlers were easier to spot once you knew what to look for. At first glance, they might have passed for large dogs or wolves, especially in the fading light. But their movements were wrong, too fluid, like they were walking on water. Their eyes reflected not yellow or green like normal animals, but a deep crimson that seemed to glow with its own fire.
More tellingly, they cast no shadows.
He watched one of the prowlers circle around what had once been a food vendor's booth. The creature moved with perfect silence, its paws somehow making no sound even on the broken glass and debris that littered the parking lot. Its head turned with mechanical precision as it scanned the area, nostrils flaring as it tested the air for threats or prey.
"The vines are moving," Lyra observed, her voice carrying that particular tension it got when she was observing something unexpected. "See how they're repositioning across the main entrance? It's probably an ability of the kin."
Erel shifted his focus and immediately saw what she meant. The black vines were indeed moving with purpose, creating new patterns across the entrance like a spider adjusting its web. As he watched, one of the prowlers approached the vine barrier. The vines parted to allow the creature passage, then closed seamlessly behind it.
They watched in silence for another twenty minutes, mapping movement patterns and noting behaviours. The prowlers seemed to patrol in pairs, never leaving a fixed area clear.
It was during this observation period that they first glimpsed the kin.
The creature emerged from what had once been the stadium's main concourse, moving with a grace that was beautiful and terrible in equal measure. Where the prowlers resembled corrupt animals, the kin looked almost human, almost. It stood upright, wore what might once have been clothing, and its proportions were close enough to human normal to be deeply unsettling rather than obviously monstrous.
But the details were wrong in ways that made Erel's serpent spike with warning sensations. The kin's limbs were slightly too long, its fingers ending in claws that gleamed like polished obsidian. Its face was human in shape but wrong in expression, too still, too focused, like a mask worn by something that didn't quite understand how faces were supposed to work. Most disturbing of all, it moved without making any sound whatsoever, its feet seeming to glide across broken concrete and scattered debris as if physics simply didn't apply to it.
The creature's skin had an odd quality to it; on first glance, it looked normal, as if simply a bit pale, but looking closer, it seemed to have the consistency of oil or smoke, rippling and flowing in ways that seemed wrong. And its eyes, when they caught the fading light, they reflected not red like the prowlers', but a deep violet that seemed to contain swirling depths.
"That's our primary target," Lyra breathed, and Erel could hear the mixture of anticipation in her voice. She'd been hunting these things for years and had already told him how this one was his to hunt.
'She is clearly nuts, a seeker hunting kins, it's unheard of. There is literally one tier gap.'
The kin paused in its movement, its head turning to scan the surrounding area. For a moment, Erel had the unsettling feeling that it was looking directly at him, despite the distance and cover between them. The creature's gaze seemed to linger on their hiding spot for several seconds longer than random chance would account for.
Then it continued its patrol, disappearing back into the stadium's depths with that same unsettling silence.
"It's coordinating the prowlers," Erel muttered, seeing its retreating figure.
Lyra nodded grimly. "Which means taking out the prowlers first won't work. It'll know the moment we engage any of them."
They both instinctively shifted deeper into cover, though Erel suspected it was probably too late for such precautions. If the kin had spotted them through its network of servants, it was likely already preparing countermeasures.
They spent another thirty minutes mapping the full extent of the infestation. The prowlers had claimed the entire stadium complex, with pairs stationed at every entrance and a larger group patrolling the field itself. The black vines covered not just the main entrance but several other gates. And somewhere in the complex's interior, the kin entity moved through its domain with the confidence of something that had never known defeat.
The abandoned stands and ticket booths had been transformed into a host for the black vines, their concrete and metal surfaces bulging with the same black substance that coated the vines.
They retreated two blocks from the stadium before stopping to plan, taking shelter in the hollow shell of what had once been a family restaurant. The interior showed signs of abandonment, overturned tables, broken glass crunching underfoot, and faded murals depicting happier times when the biggest worry was whether the home team would make it to the playoffs.
Lyra spread a hand-drawn map of the stadium complex across a table they'd cleared, weighing down the corners with chunks of broken concrete. The map was incredibly detailed, showing not just the building's layout but also utility tunnels, maintenance shafts, and even the routing of the electrical and plumbing systems.
"How did you get blueprints this detailed?" Erel asked, studying the precise notations and measurements.
"Concordat is quite thorough when posting jobs for Anomalites," Lyra replied with a slight smile.
"Eight prowlers confirmed," she continued, marking positions with small stones. "The kin is probably in the underground sections during daylight hours, an instinctive behaviour from whatever mythology spawned it. That gives us an advantage if we move now, it'll be forced into a defensive position.
Erel studied the map, his fingers tracing possible approach routes. Every path into the stadium's interior led through areas controlled by the prowlers or blocked by the vine barriers. The creature had chosen its territory well, creating natural barriers.
"The vine barriers are the real problem," he said. "Even if we take out the prowlers quickly, trying to breach those things might give the kin time to escape."
"Not necessarily. Entities are much more stubborn than you think; there is no way they would retreat."
"Also, before I forget."
Lyra produced a small obsidian feather that seemed to materialise in her hands. The object seemed to absorb light like the kin's claws, its surface so dark it was difficult to look at directly. "Fragment ability," she explained, noticing his questioning look. "Basically, it will work like a tracker. Keep it with yourself, and I'll know exactly where you are at all times."
Erel had seen Lyra's Fragment abilities before; her connection to Morrigan gave her abilities suited to hunting, and their versatility never failed to impress him. Where his own powers were largely internal and defensive, hers manifested as tangible tools and weapons that seemed to appear when needed. He'd never quite understood how she created them, but the results were undeniably effective.
The feather felt warm in his hand, and he could sense some kind of connection forming between it and Lyra. It was like having a thread of awareness linking them, allowing her to track his position even when physical sight was impossible.
They made their final preparations as the sun disappeared behind the urban skyline. Lyra's equipment was honed with years of experience; body armour so dark it seemed to absorb light around it, her bow strapped around her shoulder, and a dagger tucked in her belt
Erel's preparations were simpler. A leather protective gear, lighter than Lyra's, but sufficient for his role in the plan with his sword that lay sheathed across his waist. However, what he really needed to prepare was something completely different from Lyra; it was his mind. The last thing they needed was for him to freeze up in the middle of combat because his power decided to show him every possible way the mission could go wrong.
The fragment feather pulsed gently against his chest where he'd secured it beneath his armor. It was oddly reassuring to know that whatever happened, Lyra could without a doubt take care of it.
'If she wanted, she could probably wrap up this entire gig within one hour. How dutiful of her to go over the details just so that I can learn.
They moved through the abandoned streets toward their objective, two figures in the growing darkness.
Ahead of them, the stadium waited like a trap designed by something that understood human nature all too well.
The hunt was about to begin.