Eldritch Guidance

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden hue across the sky, signaling the end of the day. It looked as though it would fully set in the next few hours. Jafar and Alan arrived near Ravis Street. They reached the location exactly at six, as instructed by Cid. Sere wasn't with them—she had another commitment to attend to, leaving Alan and Jafar to follow up on the lead Cid had provided.

They looked around the area intensely, expecting to find something—anything—out of place. Yet Ravis Street, in its fading twilight, seemed quiet and ordinary. It was just another neighborhood on the surface. People ambled along the sidewalks, some heading home from work, others out for an evening stroll. The odd vehicle passed by leisurely, their tires humming softly against the pavement.

The street featured a mix of small high-rise buildings and tightly packed houses, leaving little room for space between them. Everything appeared well-maintained, from the fresh paint on the homes to the neatly trimmed patches of greenery. The sidewalks were remarkably free of litter, adding to the overall sense of order and care. It was the kind of neighborhood that exuded quiet charm—a peaceful, unassuming place where nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Alan: “Are you sure this is the place?”

Jafar: “He said between Forro Lane and Tevis Avenue.”

Alan: “It just looks like an average neighborhood.”

Jafar: “What did you expect?”

Alan: “I don’t know. Something odd or out of place. Guess we should start asking around if anyone has seen anything strange.”

Jafar: “Are you sure we should be looking at this by ourselves? Shouldn’t we get Rell or Joe to help us?”Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Alan: “What do you want to tell them? Some guy we know who killed Sorin told us to search this place for clues.”

Jafar: “Obviously not. But, we could say we heard strange rumors about this place. And, we wouldn’t have to completely make it up. Apparently, there was a missing person report for someone who lived near here. I looked it up quickly before we came.”

Alan: “I still think that’s a hard sell, unless that missing person was connected to Sorin in some way.”

Jafar: “Um, I didn’t have time to look that deeply, but probably not. This is a working-class neighborhood with mostly aetherless people. Most people living here would likely have nothing to do with the university, let alone Sorin.”

Alan shook his head in response.

Alan: “Then there’s no getting help from the Sleuth-Hawks. Convincing them to drop what they’re doing and come search this place, without any compelling evidence, would be hard. Besides, this information we got is time-sensitive. We have to look into this today and can’t waste time trying to convince them.”

Jafar: “That's what I’m worried about. The time-sensitive thing. Why do we specifically have to search between six and seven? It sounds like a trap to me.”

Alan: “You don’t trust it?”

Jafar: “No. I don’t trust anything that guy says. He might be trying to get us killed.”

Alan: “I don’t think so. There are easier ways to kill us if he wants to.”

Jafar: “Not if he’s trying to make it look like an accident, like he did with those other peo—um, undead.”

Alan: “Hmm, I still don’t think it’s a trap.”

Jafar: “Why do you trust this guy so much?”

Alan: “It’s not that I trust him. It’s… I don’t know. I just feel like he’s not lying. Anyway, we’re wasting time. We only have an hour. Let’s start asking around. We can use that missing person report as a jumping-off point to question people.”

Alan scanned the area, searching for anyone nearby he could approach, but the few people he spotted were too far off, their figures receding down the street. With no one immediately accessible, he resolved to try his luck with the nearby houses, hoping someone inside might offer a clue. Without hesitation, he strode toward the closest home, its front porch bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. His footsteps quickened as he made his way up the steps.

Behind him, Jafar let out a low, resigned sigh. He had seen this kind of impulsive move from Alan before, but nevertheless, he followed. His steps were slower as he trailed after his companion, his eyes sweeping the area one last time before they reached the door.

Alan raised his hand and gave the front door a few quick taps with his knuckles.

Knock, knock, knock

He waited for a moment afterward, listening for any sign of movement from within—anything to suggest that someone might be home. The door itself was solid, its paint slightly weathered but well-kept, adding to the sense of quiet order that seemed to hang over the neighborhood. Alan shifted around in place, preparing to knock again if necessary, the soft breeze tugging at his enforcer uniform as he waited for a response.

After a few more seconds of silence, with no sound coming from inside, Alan knocked again—this time a little louder, his knuckles tapping firmly against the door. The dull thud echoed briefly in the still evening air, but once again, no response came.

Jafar: It seems like no one is home.

Alan: “Seems like it, let's try the next hou—” he said, before being interrupted by a strange sound.

From behind the door, a faint but unmistakable sound reached the ears of both Arcane Eye students—a wet, gurgling noise that seemed to crawl through the silence. It was like the sickening sound of fluid trapped in a throat or lungs, and it sent a chill creeping down their spines.

Jafar: “W-what was t-that?!?” he stuttered in panic.

Hearing that sound triggered a flash of memory from Alan’s childhood. For a moment, he was no longer standing in front of the quiet house on Ravis Street. Instead, he was back in Gix at the lake near his old home, the day he had fallen in—his small body thrashing helplessly as the cold water closed over his head. He had been drowning, gasping for air that wouldn’t come, his lungs filling with the cold water of the lake. The muffled gurgling of his own screams had echoed in his ears as he sank deeper, the world above him blurred and unreachable. His heart raced at the recollection as he remembered the sheer panic of that moment, the sensation of helplessness tightening around him like a vise.

It was his older sister who had saved him that day, diving into the water without hesitation and pulling him back to the surface. But the sound he heard now, behind that door, was the same—the desperate noise of someone screaming for help while underwater.

In that instant, Alan's instincts surged to the forefront, the memory of drowning sharpening his focus. Without a second thought, he acted. His muscles coiled, and with a swift motion, he raised his leg and drove it hard into the door. The impact landed with a thunderous bang, echoing down the quiet street. The force of the kick was powerful, enough to splinter the wood around the frame and send a shudder through the entire door, but it held firm, refusing to give way completely. The loud crack of wood under stress filled the air, but it stood resilient as if whatever lay behind would stay hidden just a moment longer.

Jafar: “What are you doing!?!” he yelled.

Alan ignored Jafar’s question. He took a step back, his eyes narrowing as he prepared to strike again. The tension in the air thickened, and the wet, gurgling sound beyond the door seemed to grow louder and more urgent. Something was inside, and they were running out of time.

Alan focused intently, channeling aether into his legs, feeling the energy surge through him like a tide. With each breath he took, he amplified his strength. He positioned himself again and delivered one final, powerful kick to the door.

This time, the impact reverberated through the air with a deafening bang, the sound echoing like a thunderclap down the street. The force of the blow was monumental, enough to rattle the very frame of the house. Splinters flew as the door jolted violently, the hinges creaking in protest as it gave way. Alan could almost feel the vibrations in his bones as the door shuddered under the weight of his strength.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Peering into the dimly lit hallway, Alan and Jafar froze, their eyes widening in disbelief. What they saw left their mouths slightly agape, confusion rippling across their faces as they struggled to make sense of the scene before them.

The narrow corridor stretched ahead, coated in an eerie, glistening red substance that clung to every surface. The walls, the floor, and even the ceiling dripped with the strange, slick material as if the entire hallway had been swallowed by some nightmarish organism. The slime almost seemed to glow faintly in the dim light, its wet sheen reflecting off the few lights above.

But it wasn’t the unnerving sight of the crimson-coated walls that left Alan and Jafar rooted in place—it was what lay at the heart of it all.

In the center of the hallway, an amorphous mass of featureless red slime pulsed and bubbled, its gelatinous surface squirming as if it were alive. The mass shifted constantly, never settling into a defined shape, but instead flowing and undulating, almost as though it was struggling to take form. Its shapeless body was twisting and swelling as it looked like it was almost standing upright, like a grotesque mockery of a living creature. Its glossy surface gleamed under the flickering lights, reflecting the unsettling crimson glow that coated the entire corridor.

At its base, smaller blobs of the same viscous goo crawled and writhed around the larger mass, moving with an unknown purpose. These smaller forms squelched as they shifted, their formless bodies slithering across the slime-covered floor like parasites drawn to a host. Some clung to the larger mass, feeding into it, while others seemed to spread outward, coating more of the corridor in their creeping reach. Each movement was accompanied by a wet, squelching sound, the slime almost breathing with malevolence.

Jafar: “BY THE LIGHT! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?!?!” he screamed

Alan stood paralyzed. His thoughts churned in disarray, unable to form any coherent response to the thing in front of him. The creature defied logic, its very existence seemed to bend the natural laws as he understood them, leaving his brain scrambling for an explanation that wasn’t there.

As Alan stared at the writhing creature, something caught his eye—movement within the shifting, amorphous mass. At first, it was just a faint outline, distorted by the bubbling surface of the slime. But then, with a horrifying clarity, he saw it: a silhouette at the center of the creature, the unmistakable form of a person trapped inside. The figure's legs kicked frantically, and their arms thrashed wildly, struggling against the viscous substance that engulfed them.

With the same calm clarity that had guided him when he kicked the door down, Alan sprang into action. His mind snapped into focus, the confusion melting away as his training took over. He charged toward the creature.

Channeling his aether, Alan concentrated the energy into his arm, feeling the familiar surge of power flow through him. He began casting a ward, focusing intensely on fortifying his limb. The air around his arm shimmered faintly as the ward formed, wrapping his arm in a protective aura. Though barely visible, the nearly transparent barrier hummed with aetheric power. Alan knew he had to keep the ward compact, limiting its coverage to just his arm to maximize its strength. A small, but potent shield designed for precision rather than broad defense.

Alan’s eyes locked onto the center of the creature, where the figure’s movements were becoming weaker. His arm, now armed with a ward, shot forward and plunged his arm into the sludge, intent on pulling the victim from the creature's grasp.

Alan: “Ahhhh!” he cried out in pain.

Unfortunately, the ward did nothing to protect Alan from the creature's touch. The ward he had cast was designed to absorb impact, not defend against corrosive or liquid substances like this one. The moment his arm plunged into the writhing mass of red slime, the creature's gelatinous form slithered past the shimmering barrier and made direct contact with his skin.

A searing pain shot through Alan's arm, it was agonizing, as the slime was eating away at his flesh. It burned with an intensity that made his muscles clench and his breath catch in his throat. Gritting his teeth, Alan fought through the excruciating pain, forcing his arm deeper into the creature's mass. He could feel his skin blistering under the assault of the slime. Every instinct screamed at him to pull back, but he ignored the overwhelming urge to recoil. His focus remained on the figure struggling within.

At last, his fingers brushed against something solid—a limb. Without hesitation, Alan gripped it tightly. He could feel the trapped figure’s body trembling beneath his grasp, their struggle was faint but persistent. Summoning all his strength, Alan began to pull, using his entire body to wrench the person free from the creature’s hold. The slime resisted, tugging back like a living force determined to devour its victim, but Alan held firm, refusing to let go even as his own pain intensified.

The slime creature refuses to release its prey. It seemed to sense Alan’s determination and lashed back in response, as though enraged by his intrusion. From the side of the writhing mass, a limb began to form—an amorphous tentacle bubbling up from the crimson slime. In mere seconds, the appendage grew larger, stretching out and taking shape with terrifying speed.

The creature’s new limb slithered through the air with a wet, squelching sound, its surface gleaming with the same corrosive red slime that was burning Alan’s skin. The tentacle, massive and powerful, whipped forward with a frightening speed, aiming directly for Alan. It cut through the air like a living whip, its intention clear—it sought to coil around him, drag him into the heart of the creature, to join with the other being inside itself.

Alan’s breath caught in his throat as he saw the tentacle hurtling toward him, the split-second realization that he couldn’t dodge fast enough with his arm inside the creature like this. He stood frozen for a brief, helpless moment, staring at the incoming attack.

Suddenly, a large chunk of stone hurtled through the air, striking the tentacle mid-lash with a resounding crack. The impact severed the limb cleanly, sending it flopping to the floor. The detached tentacle writhed and squirmed in an unnatural way, twitching violently before it began to slither back toward the main mass like a wounded animal retreating to its den.

Alan’s breath caught in his chest, his heart still pounding from the close call. He turned sharply, searching for the source of his rescue, and saw Jafar standing a few feet behind him, his hand extended forward. Jafar’s hand trembled visibly as he held his ground. Fear flickered in his eyes, but his focus remained locked on the creature.

Aether swirled around Jafar’s hand, shimmering with earth energy as he gathered the earth element into a compact bolt. His fingers twitched as the energy coalesced, forming into a jagged mass of stone, ready to be launched again. The glow around his hand intensified as he prepared to hurl the next strike at the creature, his breathing uneven but his resolve clear.

Seizing the opportunity Jafar had given him, Alan quickly dispelled the ward around his arm—as it had done nothing to protect him from the creature's corrosive touch anyway. The moment the barrier faded, he redirected that energy inward, channeling it into his muscles to boost his physical strength. His arm throbbed with renewed power, the aether coursing through his veins, sharpening his focus and enhancing his strength.

With a deep breath and one fluid motion, Alan tightened his hold on the person trapped inside the creature’s gelatinous mass. His muscles surged with strength, fueled by his enhancement magic, and with a sharp, sudden tug, he pulled the figure toward him. The creature resisted, its slime clinging desperately to the body, trying to hold onto its victim, but Alan’s enhanced strength broke through its grasp.

A sickening wet slurping sound echoed through the hallway as the slime creature reluctantly released its grip. With a final, powerful yank, Alan pulled the figure free from the creature’s embrace, sending them both tumbling backward.

The person, drenched in the viscous red slime, gasped for air, their body limp and trembling from the ordeal. Alan’s arm burned painfully and had slight acid burns from where the creature had made contact, but he ignored it, his focus entirely on the barely conscious individual he had just rescued.

The person Alan had saved looked to be in terrible condition. The man was disfigured and would be difficult to recognize if Alan knew who this was. The man’s exposed skin was marred by deep acid burns, the flesh raw and blistered. His skin was mottled and red, from the creature's corrosive touch, and the burns covered large portions of his body, leaving him trembling and gasping for breath. Alan winced as he took in the extent of the damage—the man’s skin looked agonizingly painful, as though the very air was too much for it to bear.

But there was something bizarre that caught Alan's attention amid the horror. Despite the severe acid burns ravaging the man’s body, his clothes were completely unharmed. His shirt, jacket, and pants remained entirely intact.

The creature let out a low, gurgling sound, writhing angrily as its prey slipped from its grasp, its mass rippling in agitation.

Jafar fired off three more earthen bolts toward the creature. Each bolt whistled through the air as they hurtled toward their target. They struck the creature with a disgusting, wet squelch, punching clean through its amorphous body and leaving gaping holes where the projectiles had passed. For a brief moment, the creature's gelatinous form shuddered, rippling from the force of the impact.

But, the victory was fleeting.

Almost immediately, the holes began to close. The red slime oozed and stretched, sealing the wounds with unnatural ease. In mere seconds, the damage had completely vanished, the creature’s mass reforming as if nothing had happened. It squirmed and bubbled, unfazed by Jafar’s assault, its gelatinous surface smoothing back to its original state. There wasn’t even a sign that the attack had hurt it.

In response to Jafar’s attack, the slime creature emitted a piercing, high-pitched screech that reverberated through the narrow hallway, as though it were expressing its rage. The sound was shrill and unnatural, sending further chills down Alan and Jafar’s spines. The creature's featureless mass began to shift and expand, its surface bubbling violently in reaction to the assault.

Without warning, several more tentacles erupted from its body, twisting and writhing with terrifying speed. These new appendages stretched out in all directions, their slick, gelatinous forms glistening under the dim light as they thrashed menacingly.

Jafar: “Nothing working on it! I think I just made it angry!”

Alan quickly picked up the man and slugged him over his shoulders.

Alan: “There’s nothing else we can do! Let’s get out of here!” he yelled, before running towards the front door.

Jafar briefly looked at Alan and then back at the slime creature before following behind his friend.

(Author’s note: I hate splitting up action sequences into multiple chapters, but unfortunately this chapter was getting a little too long. The next chapter shall be a continuation of this.)