Chapter 18

eighteen

I couldn't stay cooped up in that house any longer, not with the weight of my discoveries bearing down on me. So I did what any rational person would do—I broke into the town hall, hoping to uncover more about the twisted history of Red Hallow and the creation of both Grayson and this new threat.

The moon cast an eerie light as I crept through the deserted streets, my breath forming clouds in the chill night air. The town hall loomed ahead of me, its windows dark and uninviting. I could almost feel the weight of the town's secrets pressing down on me as I approached.

With a gloved hand, I pushed open the creaking door, stepping into the shadows within. The air was thick with the scent of must and dust, the silence oppressive. My heart hammered in my chest, my eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the grimy windows.

As I explored the building, the place seemed to be stuck in time, with aged furniture and yellowing paperwork strewn about. I felt like an intruder in a forgotten world as I carefully made my way through the rooms, searching for any clues that could shed light on Red Hallow's dark past.

In a back room, lit only by the moon's faint glow, I discovered what I was looking for. Old records and folders lay stacked on shelves, their corners bent and pages yellowed. With trembling fingers, I pulled one out, the paper feeling crisp and fragile in my hands.

The heading sent a chill down my spine:

Project Enforcer: Red Hallow's Legacy.

I immediately delved into the sordid details, my eyes scanning the pages filled with meticulous notes and diagrams.

It was all there—the town's dark pact with evil, their attempts to create the perfect enforcer to uphold their cursed legacy. They had experimented with dark magic and body modification, twisting and molding individuals into weapons of their own design.

I pored over the records, my heart sinking with each new revelation. The town elders' obsession with power and control knew no bounds, and they had stopped at nothing to achieve their twisted goals. The more I read, the more I understood that Grayson and I were merely pawns in a game that had been set in motion decades ago.

According to the documents, there had been multiple attempts to create the perfect enforcer, with various individuals subjected to horrific experiments. Some had been successful, becoming the shadowy figures that enforced Red Hallow's will. But others had failed, their bodies breaking down or their minds succumbing to the darkness that had been implanted within them.

I felt a surge of anger mixed with a sense of foreshadowing dread. The town elders had played with forces beyond their control, and their hubris had resulted in the creation of monsters. Monsters like Grayson. And now, it seemed, they had a new creation—The Hollow Man.

As I neared the end of the records, a name caught my eye—one I recognized. Hale. My breath caught in my throat, and I devoured the information, hoping to find some insight into his creation.

The entries detailing his transformation were sparse, as if the experimenters themselves feared putting pen to paper. These records seemed to be more of the results of the experiments unlike the journals found in the lab back home. But the few notes that existed sent a chill to my core.

Subject displays advanced healing capabilities. Immune to pain. Violent tendencies amplified.

I read the last line again, my heart sinking. Violent tendencies amplified . So they had taken a vulnerable boy and twisted him, amplified his trauma and pain, and shaped him into a weapon. The realization sickened me, but it also fueled my determination to uncover the truth.

I carefully replaced the records, my mind spinning. I felt a strange connection to Grayson, understanding on some level the darkness that lurked within him—a darkness that had been nurtured and exploited by the very people who should have protected him.

But as I turned to leave, something caught my eye—a hidden compartment beneath the shelf. My heart raced as I pulled it open, wondering what other secrets this town held.

I almost missed it—a hidden latch that released a false back in the shelf. My heart skipped a beat as I pulled it open, half expecting some creature of the night to leap out at me. But instead, I found a small, leather-bound book. It was a journal.

I blew the dust off the cover, my fingers tracing the intricate patterns embossed on the surface. This was a personal account, hidden away from prying eyes. My breath quickened as I realized this could contain secrets the town elders never intended to be revealed.

The first page held a name, written in elegant yet faded lettering:

Dr. Victor Elwood, Master Alchemist and Surgeon.

My curiosity grew as I delved into his personal account, his unique perspective on the experiments different from the cold, clinical records I'd previously discovered.

Elwood's words were passionate and obsessive. He wrote of his desire to push the boundaries of human potential, to create something beyond ordinary. And in his eyes, the town's offer to conduct his experiments in secrecy was an opportunity he couldn't refuse.

As I read further, my stomach twisted. Elwood's fascination with his subjects, including Grayson, was more than professional. He wrote of their physical transformations with a perverse admiration, detailing their pain and struggles as if they were mere objects for his pleasure.

The boy, Hale, possesses an extraordinary resilience. His body heals with an efficiency I've never witnessed before. It's as if he embraces the darkness, allowing it to fuel his very existence.

I find myself drawn to his pain, captivated by the way he endures. There's an undeniable power in his suffering.

My skin crawled as I read Elwood's twisted admiration for Grayson's trauma. It was clear that the "care" Elwood provided wasn't out of compassion but from a desire to mold Grayson into the perfect specimen, unconcerned with the cost to his humanity.

But as I turned the pages, a new entry caught my eye, dated mere weeks after Grayson's creation. Elwood's usually meticulous handwriting was erratic, the words conveying his panic.

They have come for me. The very creatures I helped unleash upon this world now seek my demise. My life's work, they say, is an abomination. I fear I've created monsters that even I cannot control. If I make it out, I need to find a way to fix that.

I shuddered, picturing the town elders, once so eager for power, now turning on their creator. But Elwood's fate wasn't the only surprise. The journal also held a detailed account of Grayson's early days, his struggles, and his slow descent into the monster he became.

My eyes widened as I devoured the words. Elwood's desperation jumped off the page as he detailed the town's decision to create a second enforcer—this one designed to be obedient and controllable, unlike the primal force that was Grayson.

They feared that their creation would turn on them , I realized. So, they made a second, to rein in their first mistake . My skin prickled at the thought of being deemed an "existential threat" alongside Grayson.

The boy, Hale, was a force of nature, unleashed upon the world. But his very nature made him uncontrollable. So, we began anew. This time, we aimed to create an enforcer who would obey without question, a killer whose loyalty would be absolute. We designed him to be lethal yet obedient, free of the primal urges that drove Hale.

My heart sank as I grasped the implications. The town elders had played a dangerous game, and now, desperate to maintain their control, they had unleashed their second creation. His presence meant they saw Grayson and me as a threat to their very existence.

Elwood's writing grew more frantic as he described the process of creating this new enforcer, their "perfect" killer. They had used the lessons learned from Grayson's transformation, molding this new creature into something even more terrifying.

"This one will be our savior," they said. "A force to keep the peace and uphold the order we have established." But I knew the truth. This enforcer was their insurance policy—a weapon to be used against their own creation should he ever step out of line.

I shuddered, envisioning the kind of being they had crafted. If Grayson was a force of nature, this new killer was a precision instrument designed for a single purpose: to eliminate any threat to the town's dark order.

As I watched their new creation take form, I knew we had succeeded. He was everything Hale wasn't—calculating, cold, and utterly devoid of compassion. A single glance from those hollow eyes sent shivers down my spine. In that moment, I understood the true extent of what we had done.

My stomach twisted. Elwood's fear was palpable, even through the pages. Whatever this new killer was, he wasn't meant to exist outside of the shadows. His very existence was a warning—a threat the town was willing to unleash.

I fear we have opened a door that can never be closed. With each creation, we invite more darkness into our midst. And should these enforcers ever turn their gaze upon us... God help us all.

I closed the journal, the weight of Elwood's words settling upon me. The town elders had played a dangerous game, and now, their desperate move to unleash the second killer made it clear just how high the stakes had become.