A young boy opened his eyes. He found himself trapped within a cocoon—not of silk, but of woven shadows. His fingers brushed against the strange prison; the walls felt murky and oppressive, a physical manifestation of absolute blackness. Panic began to rise in his throat as he struggled to understand where he was or how he had arrived.
Eventually, his searching gaze caught a flicker of light. A single, jagged crack had formed in the cocoon's surface. Hope flared in his chest. He reached out with a trembling hand, his fingers tracing the fissure. The material was brittle. As he touched it, another crack appeared, then another, until a spiderweb of fractures raced across the darkness.
Then, the world exploded.
The boy tumbled out, momentarily drowning in a heap of shadowy, viscous slime. He flailed in the mess, gasping for air. When he looked down at his hands, expecting them to be monstrous, he was met with a surge of relief. They were human—perfectly formed fingers and pale skin.
He wiped the grime from his eyes and took in his surroundings. He was in a vast, damp cave filled with other cocoons. Roughly fifteen of them were scattered nearby, varying in size, each pulsing with the faint rhythm of something living inside.
Curiosity overrode his terror. He approached the nearest shell and pressed his palm against it. It remained cold and unresponsive. He wandered further into the gloom, finding nothing but the silent, unhatched shapes of others like him.
Suddenly, a cocoon nearby shattered with a violent crack. A young man emerged, shaking off the black residue with a predatory ease. He had shocks of brown hair and eyes that were entirely, unnervingly black. The boy froze. He could sense it immediately: this person was dangerous.
"Oh, it's nice to be born," the stranger said, stretching his limbs with casual confidence. His gaze locked onto the boy. He noted the boy's matted dark hair and the remains of the shattered shell behind him. "Looks like you beat me to it. Someone actually awakened before me."
The man began to walk forward with a grace that felt like a hunter closing in on prey. "I just realized something—I can know the name of every person I meet. It's an attribute of mine. I need your name."
"It's Max," the boy replied, his voice shaking. "And I think we should—"
"If you're planning to eliminate the competition," the stranger interrupted, his black eyes glinting, "don't bother. I'm already thinking it. It's better to clear the room while the others are still sleeping, don't you think?"
"Wait," Max said firmly, trying to steady his racing heart. "Don't even think about that. It's not worth it. We could be companions. We could fight together."
The stranger smirked. "Fight what, exactly? These slugs?" He gestured dismissively at the unhatched cocoons. "And then what? We're just trapped in a hole together."
Max raised a hand, dark slime still dripping from his fingertips. "And if you kill us all, then what? You'll sit here in the dark with no company? You don't even know what's outside this cave."
The man's smirk widened, though his expression darkened. "I'll find a way out. That's what I'll do."
"You don't know that," Max countered. "What if the world outside is a wasteland? What if everything in existence is just this cave? You need people. You don't know anything yet."
"I don't know?" The man laughed, a harsh, dry sound. "Listen, pal, I don't know about you, but I lived a life before this. Before this shadow took me. I had a life, and I know there's a world out there. Probably more than you'll ever know."
His eyes hardened with lethal intent. "So, I'm going to kill you. I can't have anyone around to betray me later."
He lunged. Max dodged on pure instinct, his heart hammering against his ribs. The man moved with unnatural agility, twisting his body mid-air to launch a second strike. His hand clamped around Max's neck like a vice. With terrifying strength, he hurled Max across the cavern.
Max soared through the air, his newly awakened limbs refusing to cooperate. He slammed into a nearby cocoon with devastating force. The shell exploded on impact. The occupant inside—a man Max would never know—was crushed instantly by the weight of the blow.
Horror flooded Max. He was weak—desperately weak—and this stranger was already a killing machine.
The man rushed forward again, pinning Max and driving a fist into his face. Then another. And another. Max felt his consciousness flickering like a dying candle. He couldn't fight back; he was being systematically broken.
In a final, desperate act of survival, Max gathered the bitter, black slime pooling in his mouth and spat it directly into his attacker's eyes.
It worked.
The stranger shrieked, recoiling as he clawed frantically at the sludge blinding him. Seeing his only opening, Max lunged forward. He threw every ounce of his weight and desperation into a single, lucky punch. It connected squarely with the man's jaw, sending him hurtling backward.
The stranger staggered to his feet, wiping the last of the slime away. He spat on the ground, a triumphant, manic grin spreading across his face. "Lucky hit, kid. I'm a quick learner, though. And I have something you don't."
He held out his palm. A writhing, liquid shadow erupted from his skin. "I have Shadow."
Max's breath caught. He hadn't known such a thing was possible. The man must have unlocked the ability in the heat of the struggle, tapping into the very essence of the cocoons.
"How do you—" Max stammered.
"Surprised? Don't be. You'll be dead in a second."
The man lunged again, his fist now wrapped in living darkness. Max twisted away, but the man spun with impossible grace. Max launched a desperate kick, but the stranger caught his foot with one hand, his grip like iron.
Max's eyes widened. The skill gap was too wide. But before the stranger could deliver a finishing blow, the entire cave convulsed.
"This isn't supposed to happen," the man muttered, his confidence finally cracking.
Boulders plummeted from the ceiling, pulverizing cocoons and shaking the earth. The stranger abandoned the fight, looking wildly for an escape, but the ceiling was coming down in sheets of stone.
A massive slab of rock hurtled from the darkness above. The man tried to dodge, tried to manifest his shadow to shield himself, but it wasn't enough. The boulder struck with a sickening crunch, burying him instantly.
Max scrambled back, his lungs burning. He had just been born into this world, and already death was reaching for him. He looked around frantically, but the exits were sealing, and the cave was folding in on itself.
He knew with a terrible, crystalline clarity: if he died here, there would be no second rebirth.
As the last of the light was swallowed by falling stone, Max stood at death's door.
How does that feel for a first rewrite? If you're