Dr. Haytham Kenwick ran across the rickety wooden bridge as arrows soared past him. Behind him, Dr. Franklin Moore did the same, ducking and weaving in the hopes that he would be spared a long and painful death.
Haytham reached solid ground and spun around. The native peoples of the island, their bodies painted with strange symbols, shouted in an unknown language as they continued to fire volley after volley of arrows. Haythem noticed something, however:
They refused to cross the bridge.
As Franklin reached the other side, he brandished a hunting knife. Wasting no time, he began cutting away at the rope supports of the bridge, no doubt thinking it would ensure their escape. Haytham, struggling to catch his breath, reached out to stop the young linguist, but it was too late.
The bridge snapped like a twig, falling to the jagged rocks and the ocean waters below.
Franklin cheered as the native people ceased their attack and turned to leave. Their body language spoke of more than defeat. They exuded a profound sadness as if they had lost more than just a mere battle.
“We did it, doctor!” Franklin said, shaking Haytham’s shoulders.
Haytham stared forward, his expression blank. His mind wandered back to the letter he had sent the day before they left for Devolos Island.
“Sir, what’s wrong? We made it! We’re alive!” Franklin shouted.
Haytham returned to the present, offering a weak smile. “Yes, of course. My apologies; I was simply distracted.”
Haytham surveyed his surroundings. He and Franklin stood upon a natural stone pillar. The edges ended in a sheer drop hundreds of feet to the basalt columns below.
In front of them, a spiral stone staircase was carved into the ground, leading into an underground chamber within the pillar itself.
Haytham looked up at the night sky. He was shocked to see that there were no stars.
“Are you coming, doctor?” Franklin asked.
Haytham nodded. “Yes, right behind you.”
The two men descended down the claustrophobic and uneven staircase until they reached a small chamber. At the far side was an intricate metal door set into the wall.
It was carved with strange symbols and runes. The metal was black like the night sky. It sparkled and shimmered like the stars Haytham had expected to see outside.
“Fascinating, aren’t these the same symbols the tribe has painted on their bodies?” Franklin asked.
Haytham was more concerned with why the metal was glowing. “Perhaps this was a mistake.”
Franklin paused, turning back with disgust in his eyes. “You’re not letting that glorified gravedigger get into your head, are you?”
“Evangeline’s work at the Miskatonic University is advancing medicine! She is no mere gravedigger, sir!” Haytham roared.
Franklin shrugged. “She dissects dead bodies, friend. I don’t know what else to call someone like that.”
Franklin approached the door. Where a knob should be was an indentation of a handprint. Without hesitation, the young linguist moved to place his hand within it.
“Are you mad? What are you doing?” Haytham shouted.
“I’m doing what we came here to do, doctor: uncover the secrets of this island at any cost!”
Franklin laid his hand into the indent. A flash of white-hot light exploded out from beneath it. He screamed, trying to pull his hand away, as the flesh began to run off his bones like water.
Within seconds, even the bones turned to dust, and he fell onto the ground, clutching the bleeding stump where his hand used to be.
The door swung open on its own. A musty, ancient smell wafted out from within. A slender tentacle, deep purple like a fresh bruise, shot out from within the darkness. It grabbed Franklin by the leg and pulled him inside. His screams echoed across the chamber.
Haytham ran through the doorway, not content to let the beast devour his dear friend without a fight. The second he crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut behind him, casting everything in abyssal darkness.
Haytham fumbled with the lighter in his jacket pocket. He struck the ignitor once, twice, and on the third time, a small flame erupted. He lifted it above his head as a voice came from deeper within the chamber.
“You humans and your hubris. You did not build this prison, so what makes you think you could open it without consequence?” The voice was low and gargled as if the speaker was actively drowning.
“Please, I simply wish to take my friend and leave!” Haytham replied.
He continued moving forward, the lighter flickering above his head with each hesitant step.
“I’m afraid your friend is no more, but he was delicious.”
Haytham paused, his breath hitching in his lungs.
“What…are you?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.
“I am neither Warden nor Exiled. Neither savior nor monster. I am a child born from both sides of this eternal battle, locked away here because neither mother nor father can face the shame of my existence.”
Haytham swallowed hard, his throat dry. “Well, perhaps I could help you get out?”
A gushing laugh echoed through the darkness.
“You are no Warden. You don’t carry their scent. You have nothing to offer me. You will also be devoured.”
Haytham panicked and dropped his lighter onto the ground. The flames ignited something that coated the floor beneath his feet. Flames shot outward in all directions, following the liquid's trail and lighting the chamber's interior.
Haytham witnessed what had been speaking to him, and his mind nearly shattered when he beheld it. A single word came to his mind:
Abomination.
Its body was an unholy marriage of flesh, bone, and tentacles. Its face bore half a crooked smile, buried beneath pus-filled sacks and bloodshot eyes that littered its visage. It seemed to be part of the wall, as Haytham could not decipher where its body ended and the prison began.
In the presence of such an indescribable horror, Haytham fell to his knees and begged for mercy. Perhaps this dethroned god would spare him if he pleaded for his life.
“Please, have mercy! I do not wish to harm you. I simply want to learn and for our two peoples to live in harmony!”
The abomination roared. Haytham felt the ground quake beneath his knees.
“Have you not listened to a word I’ve uttered? I am neither a child of the Wardens nor one of the Exiled Ones who rot beyond the stars! No, human, you are mistaken. There was, perhaps, a time for harmony long ago, but it has since passed. Now, there is only war!”
Haytham felt slimy tentacles curl around his waist and looked up just as they pulled him into the gaping gullet of the abomination beneath Devolos Island.
Several days earlier, Evangeline DuBois sat in her office at Miskatonic University. Her mind was overflowing with forbidden secrets and cosmic questions her work sought to answer.
Her desk was littered with papers, parchment, and ancient texts. She didn’t even know where to begin. As she tried to make sense of the chaos before her, a knock came from her office door.
“Yes, come in!”
The door swung open. A tall man with unkempt black hair and pale skin walked in. He always appeared distracted, but Evangeline found him charming, if slightly eccentric.
“Ah yes, Dr. Armitage, hello! To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Dr. Armitage set down a sealed envelope on Evangeline’s desk.
“This letter somehow made it to my library, but it’s clearly addressed to you. I swear, you would think the morons running this place could do something as simple as sort mail correctly. It has all the information they need to know written on the damn thing!”
Evangeline picked up the letter and felt her blood run cold. It was from Dr. Haytham Kenwick.
“Oh, thank you, Dr. Armitage. This is an urgent letter that I should read immediately.”
“Of course, always happy to do other people’s work,” Dr. Armitage said, leaving her office.
Evangeline ignored his sarcastic comment and tore open the letter. With every word, her heart sank deeper into her chest.
The absolute madman!
She pushed aside the papers on her desk and fetched her typewriter. With shaking hands, she wrote her response.
It would never reach him.
Thanks for Reading! Here’s Your Musical Pairing
Listen to this after reading, like pairing a glass of wine with dinner.
I read this completely without context, Then the slimy web print of Cthulu made itself known! Great fun.
You’re drudging!