5. TORSION

five

TORSION

N ights were nonexistent, the land forever cast in a blinding light that had nothing to do with the sun. It wasn't cold or warm. Perpetually tepid and intense in its burning whiteness. There was no end to the foul things lurking in tarnished, shadowless forests and devastated structures. So much ruin, so much blood. Wails clawed the air in an endless cacophony of grief and terror.

Benjamin did not think himself soft, but the things he'd witnessed in these forsaken lands—he'd thought nothing could be worse than the Wandering Horrors, filling humans with tar-like ooze until they burst.

He'd been wrong.

The remains of a bird with long legs and an elongated bill bobbed in reddened water at his feet. A stork, possibly. It might have been beautiful once, its body now plucked bare, covered in faces. Human faces, small mouths still moving, distorted by weakened cries.

Everything alive and dead in this place was an amalgamation, the creatures replicating with and consuming each other at once. There was nothing else for them to consume. The trees were dead, there was no wildlife. Only blood-soaked earth. What few survivors remained wouldn't be alive for long. The last people Benjamin had seen was forever ago. They had been travelling together, a group of five. They still wouldn't stand a chance.

Reaching the shores of Malimoure had been easy enough with no soldiers stationed to stop him. No warning signs, either, stumbling into this nightmare a breeze.

With food a rarity and water scarce, Benjamin knew himself lucky to have survived this long. Were it not for the gemstones Sticky had given him, he'd be dead already.

With a quiet grunt, Benjamin yanked his hatchet out of the bird, momentarily lifting its body before it surged back under bloodied water to drift away, the mouths wrapping around desperate gasps for air.

Distant screams masked the slosh of his movements as he hid under a broken archway. Bright though everything was, he could make out deformed shapes bristling in the distance and faint shadows of high-soaring creatures flitting by his feet.

It also meant they could see him.

Benjamin squinted around the crumbling archway. It was clear, for now.

He lowered to sit on a collapsed pillar. A moment was all he'd get, but needed to take what little rest he could. He shook the water canteen before taking a swig. Nearly empty. He would have to return to the waterfall, the only source of water untainted by blood.

After making no progress at all, again. The last shreds of hope were slipping through his blood-stained fingers.

Benjamin shoved the canteen back into his rucksack, where his gaze snagged on a pillow. Lumpy, too small to serve a purpose, and poorly stitched. Red flowers on pink, now blood-soaked. His heart quivered at the sight of it, regret and what-ifs rotting within.

A gift Sticky had made him, likely injured himself doing so. And he'd cast it away like it meant nothing.

If only he'd told Sticky how he felt about him.

If only he had listened to Lucetta and stayed at the mine.

The plan had been to reach the Library of Portals, hoping for a means to reach Samuel, but Benjamin was no longer sure if that was why he'd left. Sticky appeared to be getting what he wanted from Sentinel Tau. It hurt to see them together. Finding the note left behind by his husband had struck him as a sign he needed to move on—away.

Fitting that it was Sentinel Tau who had given him a quick lift out of the mountain. Like he wanted Benjamin gone, throwing him bodily into snow before vanishing.

He couldn't even say he truly wanted to find Samuel any longer, and it had taken this awful nightmare to realise. Every time he thought about seeing his husband again, Benjamin fell short on what he imagined would happen. What he wanted to happen.

After so long, would they still know each other, or be strangers?

Swallowing against rising bile, Benjamin swung the rucksack over his shoulders. Another glance past the archway. He could pass without being snatched. Blood-soaked ground sucked at his boots as he trudged through pools of viscera reaching his shins. The foetid stench of metal and rot was barely noticeable any longer, at least.

Benjamin moved with caution, unwilling to make more noise than the agonised moans around him. He hid behind wrecked structures when he could, or ducked behind broken trees. Moving slowly, but deliberately.

A shriek, distinct among the rest. Benjamin froze in place, terror slamming the air out of his lungs. He knew that cry far too well, barely escaping with his life the first time. He rushed to squeeze past debris and under a collapsed roof, groaning and creaking on the singular strut supporting it. He sucked in a breath as a stack of bricks tumbled away from under his feet, their splashes a wobbling echo as he crouched into the shadows.

He heard the slop of heavy feet and a robe dragging through the marsh. Laughter tainted wheezing breaths, the weeping of people a disconcerting slurry as the tall, wide entity swung into view. Its flat mask a pure white with two round, bottomless holes for eyes. Thin arms protruded from wide sleeves, spindly fingers curled around the ends of a thick, fraying rope.

Bodies hung suspended by their necks, tied around the entity's wide shoulders, their limbs swaying with each step it took. Some of them were alive, their desperate rasps audible over the entity's cackles, their legs kicking.

Benjamin's grip on the hatchet tightened, the urge to try and help there, the need to survive stronger. There was no defeating this thing. He had seen it in action once and knew if he had any hope of staying alive long enough to find a way out, he had to keep his head down.

So he waited, the shame of his cowardice a thickening froth in the back of his throat. Not until the drag of robes and its laughter dissipated did he crawl back out.

The trek back to the waterfall was nigh endless at such a slow pace. Eventually, Benjamin reached a boscage, all trees dead and bare. It took longer still to reach the bloodied river. He moved from tree to broken tree, careful to avoid alerting the monstrosities gathered by the riverbank. They liked to drink there. That the water ran red didn't seem to matter to them.

Only once near the waterfall did he walk in a more assured stride, his footfalls drowned out by torrential waters spilling from high atop the muddied wall encasing the entirety of this nightmare.

Up a narrow path, he flattened his palms against the damp, rocky cliffside, sliding his feet until reaching the alcove hidden behind the waterfall. He'd seen several survivors make camp here before, and it came of little surprise when he happened upon a group of three. An old woman, a young man, and an Echo, if the fetters around its ankles and wrists were anything to go by.

Their heads snapped up at Benjamin's arrival, and he dropped the hatchet at their terror.

"It's alright," he croaked, his voice hoarse from lack of use. "I'm just here to refill my canteen."

A quavering wail poured out of the old woman, jarring Benjamin into stepping back. She rose to her feet and stumbled toward him. Hair once white was matted to her head with drying blood.

She stammered, her frantic gasps vocal. "I–I can't be–believe there's some–someone alive!" Her legs became unsteady and she reached out, her wrinkled face twisted with pleading desperation. "Please—Help us! We don't know how to–how to get out!"

Benjamin's heart plummeted into his stomach. Turning away, he caught a glimpse of the teenager, who looked like he'd taken a nasty fall, the denim by his knees torn and bloodied.

"I'm sorry," Benjamin said, strained, "I wish I could help, but there's no way to leave that I've come across."

Otherwise, he would have been long gone already.

He uncapped his canteen and refilled it by a trickle near the mouth of the cave, deliberate in turning his back to their anguish.

"Pl–Please. If you could just–just take us with you," warbled the old woman. "This is no place for my grandson."

Unable to resist, he glanced at the boy again. Bright, widened eyes stared at him. They were green, and his stomach twisted. The Echo sitting nearby scarcely moved, its eyes hidden by tightly wrapped bandaging.

Spirits born of sorrow, fostered by storks. When touched, they grew to take on the appearance of lost loved ones. Considered a nuisance by most, only marginally better than a ghost. That didn't stop a few desperate people from seeking them out, hoping to replace those they had lost. But Echoes were just that, an echo. Poor imitations that could muster only the bare minimum, forever tethered to the human realm once stolen from their nests.

"Where were you trying to go?" Benjamin took several gulps of water before refilling it again.

"The Gorge." The old woman pressed a trembling hand to her forehead, releasing a tremulous breath. "I–I chanced a shortcut, so we could get there as soon as possible for our–our Echo. I should have known better, but–but I had no idea!"

Benjamin suspected the only ones who knew what this place truly was were those trapped inside it.

He stuffed the canteen into his rucksack, trying his damndest not to look at the others when he caught another flash of the pillow. He stared at the mix of hay and chicken feathers spilling free from wide gaps in its stitching.

"Your best chance of survival is to stay here," Benjamin heard himself saying. He flicked the flap closed and straightened up. "I've been here for…a long time. I don't know how long. Sometimes animals wander in through the barrier and you can catch them when they slide down. You're…safe to light a fire in here. It's too bright outside, they won't see it."

"Does that mean you're leaving?" The ageing woman's voice broke as she grasped Benjamin's bloodied hand with both her own."The–The things out there. It's worse than a nightmare! Stay with us, please , or take us with you!"

"I'm sorry." Benjamin's jaw throbbed, clenched too harshly. "I have to keep going."

"Then we'll go with you," said the boy, fingers turning white where he dug them into his knees.

Benjamin closed his eyes and swallowed hard against the rising guilt.

"It's too dangerous to travel in a group. You'll get me killed. If you think you've seen awful things, trust me when I tell you that you haven't seen the worst yet. Stay here, if you want to survive for longer than an hour."

With every word that jerked free, he hated himself more. The woman sobbed and he collected the hatchet to pass it over. She took it, although didn't look like she knew what to do with it. Then Benjamin rummaged around a front pocket in his rucksack and freed the pouch of gemstones. With some hesitation, he collected an orange, flame-shaped stone the size of a fingernail and held it out.

"This can light a fire. Strike it across anything you want to set fire to," he said. "It can set anything on fire, so be careful. It's the best I can do for you, I'm sorry."

No longer able to look at them, he hurried away, down the slippery, narrow path and back to the deadened forest. He moved as fast and quietly as he could. As far as Benjamin knew, he'd already walked the full stretch of the barrier. This hell was a circle, which meant his only option was to head straight for its centre. The one place he'd been avoiding.

A twig cracked underfoot. He sucked in a sharp breath. Held it. Swiftly slipped behind a blood-damp tree at the sound of interested whining. He'd caught silhouettes of what looked like hounds. Heavy steps, loud snuffing, and fat trickles of saliva drew near.

Benjamin feared the thundering of his heart might give him away, and carefully lowered to grab a stone off the ground. He tossed it far to the left. It hit another tree with a squelch. The beasts snorted. One gasped in fright, the sound too human. They trotted off into the stone's direction, and Benjamin rounded the tree, sneaking away on unsteady legs.

He was going to run out of luck. It wasn't a matter of if .

The light intensified the further he went. There were more of the abhorrent birds up in the branches above, the whimpers of infants chasing a fierce shudder up his spine. As long as he moved oddly, pretended to be another atrocity, they wouldn't bother him. They couldn't smell him either, the blood encrusting his body masking his human stench.

Eventually, he reached the edge of the forest. Bloodied marshlands stretched far, sparkling white like a nightmarish version of calm waters. In the distance, silhouettes of things twitched and stumbled. There appeared to be a clear route between them, off to the right.

Benjamin took several gulps of water first, then slipped his pickaxe out from the rucksack, thankful he'd had the mind to bring that, too. He steeled himself, then manoeuvred down the slick slope into red water. Thickened by gore and deeper, reaching his upper calves.

There were few things to hide behind. He was out in the open, forced to keep an even closer watch on his surroundings, tears trickling down his cheeks from the burn of the light. Whispers and moans roamed, an eerie and endless choir. They weren't too close, they hadn't seen him. Not yet.

Burbling ahead, turning the marsh to pink froth, forced Benjamin to lower into the viscera until his chin connected with the tepid fluid. He crawled, refusing to acknowledge the way his hands mashed spongy chunks, the way his beard caught strings of pith. Focused only on the fact that this was the closest he'd ever gotten to the centre.

He'd nearly managed the same, only once. And people had died as a result. Twelve people. The screams of those he'd grouped with still echoed in his mind. The distorted simulacrum of Sentinel Sigma tearing their bodies in half forever haunting.

This time, there were no interferences. It was equally unsettling.

A cay stood out ahead of him, piled with things he couldn't discern. Benjamin crawled toward it. The alternative was to remain in the sludge, or turn back.

The slopes were slippery, his hobnailed soles sliding through the mud. He swung the pickaxe into the ground, gaining enough of a hook to pull himself up the rest of the way. Crouching, he raised an arm over his forehead to shield himself from irreparable damage, squinting at his surroundings.

There was little to see other than stretches of blood and corpses, washed in a blinding haze.

He'd always associated light with Sentinel Tau's magic. Even if he didn't like the Sentinel as much as his friends, before now, light always meant safety.

Benjamin grimaced, an all too familiar ache clawing his heart at the thought of his friends.

Of Sticky.

He should be thinking about Samuel, but that speck of hope was wiped away when Benjamin realised, with a sickening lurch of his stomach, that there would be no library here. If it existed, then it would be in ruins.

The tremble began in his hands, spread to his limbs, quaked his whole body. He closed his eyes against a gathering of tears and the need to scream.

Ghostly laughter refused to let him dwell, his desire to give up conquered by the instinct to survive. Pushing him to seek cover by the nearest object—an automobile of sorts.

To his left, a creature whined with interest and to his right, another moaned in satisfaction. A series of loud clanks and rattling echoed above. Weighted ticks of a gear turning and thick, heavy chains worked.

The light abruptly vanished.

Benjamin's vision swam with images both vivid and obscure. Panic surged like sick to burn his throat at the uproar of shrill cries, the rapid splashes of a hundred monstrosities drawing close. He slapped open palms across the strange automobile in search of a handle, skin catching on rust and dried gore. It took an agonisingly long time before he found one, discreetly placed to match the grooves of the door. He crawled inside, snapped the door shut, rasping in terror. The automobile rocked back and forth, thundering claws and feet and limbs clambering up and over.

The clanking above came to a screeching halt. It followed the billowing of water—no, thicker than water, slopping in a vast torrent, pushing the automobile down the slope of the cay. Things slammed down onto the roof, knocked into the windows. Glass shattered, the slop spilling inside, turning his stomach with the stench of putrid flesh.

Benjamin retched, the noise of his heaving drowned out by the continuous splatter of what had to be corpses.

A loud bang announced the return of light. Searing, forcing him to cover his eyes with an arm. Lukewarm fluid pooled through the seams of the doors to mingle with invading decay. Only once his eyes had readjusted did he spot the culprit of what had smashed the window.

An antler, doused in black ooze. Human bodies and other things now occupied the cay, too mangled to make sense of, barely visible between flailing creatures feasting on the carrion. Creatures he had never even seen before slouched and crawled their way to delve into the colossal mound of rot. Circular mouths snarling and snapping, multifarious legs swinging, claws tearing.

Benjamin slumped against the seat, sliding down to hide. He was trapped.

He did not think himself soft, but this was more than any one man could bear.