A profound stillness held the night, broken only by the faint, far-off hum of passing coaches, their sound echoing weakly through the quieted ward.
In a small dwelling, Laila sat upon her narrow bed, her back braced against the wooden frame, deep within the pages of a newly-opened tome. Such was her custom upon the turning of each evening; to cast the world behind her and plunge into the endless realms of books, where the hour held no sway, and nothing mattered save the intricate tangle of the plot and the secrets of the imagined folk. Yet this night was not as others; the book fell short of her hopes, a dull thing that could not seize her spirit as true tales oft do.
With a sigh, she set the book aside and gazed out through the window, surveying the street below, where the lamps of the merchants' booths cast islands of faint light. All seemed as it should be, bearing no strangeness, no cause for alarm… until a sound arose: the shattering of glass. Laila turned swiftly toward the source, striving to grasp what ill had befallen. At first, she deemed it but thieves raiding a shop. But a piercing shriek cut through her doubt. It was no common cry, but a desperate summons for aid, heavy with pain and the uttermost despair.
Quickly, her fingers sought her phone to call the Watch, but the sight in the street froze the breath within her breast. A vast shape was running with mad speed—a thing not of Men… nor of any beast she had ever known. It was a creature of horror, bearing two horns, and its immense height—nigh ten feet—redoubled the terror. Its movement was unnaturally swift and precise, as if the very laws of nature could not bind it.
Yet the true dread was not rooted in the Monster itself, but in that which it pursued.
A scant measure of yards away, a Woman fled with all the strength granted to her, striving to save her life, yet the gap between her and the horror dwindled rapidly. Suddenly, she tripped and fell upon the ground. She strove to rise, but the Monster was swifter still. With a swift, terrible leap, it descended upon her. The street trembled with the sound of her final outcry—a dreadful shriek of utter hopelessness—before it was suddenly quenched as her body vanished beneath the creature's ravening maw.
Laila gasped, her trembling hand covering her mouth, her eyes wide with unbidden horror. She could find no name for the thing save "The Beast." Her stomach churned, and a wave of sickness seized her as she witnessed the dreadful feeding. She heard the sound of rending flesh with terrible clarity, and saw how the Woman's head was snatched away in a single moment, leaving behind naught but a corpse.
The shock held her fast, but her mind began to link the passing events: the first shriek she had heard, coinciding with the shattering glass… the woman was not the sole victim. A Man had perished first.
Her body began to shake uncontrollably, and her voice escaped as a trembling whisper:
"What… what is this thing?"
But the true horror had not yet finished its dreadful prelude.
The sounds about her began to multiply—more shrieks, the heavy fall of great feet that shook the very floor, and then the sound of some great thing crashing down. And this time, the dread sounds did not come from the street alone, but from within the very fabric of the building.
Laila held her breath, her mind struggling to encompass the terrible truth. There was not one Monster only… but a whole company of them.
In a hushed murmur, as if fearing that any might hear her, she spoke with rising terror:
"They are here..."
She seized her phone swiftly, her fingers so unsteady that they scarce could command the device. She strove to summon aid, but the screen showed only a faint signal… then nothing. No coverage.
She stammered, the words barely escaping her shivering lips:
"No time for thought… I must away from this place, I must find some sanctuary."
With utmost caution, she turned the door-handle and pulled the door inward slowly, seeking to make no sound. The clamour from the floor below grew plainer—the heavy fall of feet moving with a slow, dreadful deliberation, and the broken cries of folk beseeching succour.
She did not pause to think twice. She moved swiftly toward the back emergency stairwell, descending the stone steps with all the haste she could muster. Yet she felt as if time itself had slowed, as if the stairs had no ending, as if she ran within a boundless nightmare. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and her heart beat so fiercely it seemed ready to burst through her chest. As she reached the first floor, she heard a sound behind her—a strange rustle, like some great creature stirring in the darkness. She turned swiftly… and her eyes met a pair of others that glowed in the gloom.
She did not seek to understand, nor to comprehend.
She spun round and fled, running with all her might, heedless of the pain in her legs, ignoring the tremor that had seized her frame. She burst out into the street, where the cold air struck her face, but it was not strong enough to wake her from the nightmare that encompassed her.
There was no destination, no object in view. Running was her sole hope of salvation.
And she was not alone—others also ran, some stumbling and falling, some crying out for rescue, but none gave answer. Bodies lay scattered everywhere, the stench of blood filling the air, mingled with the smoke of broken coaches. Vehicle doors stood open, their lights flashing and dying, as if the entire City were collapsing before her eyes.
Then… she struck against a solid form. The force of the collision cast her down, her body hitting the asphalt with a sudden shock, and pain erupted in every cell. She gasped at the severity of the hurt, but her mind would not permit surrender. She raised her head quickly to see the one she had struck.
It was a Man of great stature, his face grimy, his breath coming in hoarse gasps, and his eyes wide with a terror no different from her own.
Yet their moment was brief.
"Up now!"
The Man shouted in a voice of command as he saw the Monster draw near. He gave her no chance for doubt, seizing her wrist and pulling her forcefully to her feet once more, then dashing with her through the streets, shunning the open thoroughfares, searching wildly for refuge, for any place where they might hide.
At last, they reached an ancient edifice. Its door stood partially ajar, as if it had been thrust open violently. The Man entered first, Laila following, and then he made haste to bar the door behind them.
Silence descended.
They remained crouched upon the floor, their backs braced against the wall, their breath ragged. The place was dark and foul-smelling, but they gave it no heed. Safety was all they craved.
Laila whispered, her voice barely audible:
"W… what is happening?"
But the Man did not reply at once. He stared at the small, scattered wounds upon his hand, as if striving to unlock a riddle greater than his understanding.
Finally, in a gruff voice, laden with weariness and shock, he spoke:
"I do not know..."