4 min read
Shadow Self - Part 3
April 20, 2019
Erryd awoke late in the morning to the sound of birds chirping outside the window. A dull headache throbbed behind his eyes, but he couldn’t let that stop him — not when he had a plan to execute. Moving cautiously, he made his way to the bathroom, checking his reflection with a critical eye. He knew he had one crucial flaw to conceal: the absence of a rune. Unlike every other raevan, Erryd didn’t have one. He didn’t need it, not when his power came from the Trader and Ryder’s lifeforce. But if someone noticed its absence, questions would arise, and that was a risk he couldn’t afford. He decided the simplest way to hide this gap in his disguise was to always wear long, flowing shirts that would cover the spot where a rune should be.
With a grim determination, Erryd searched Ryder’s closet, pulling out clothing that met his criteria. They weren’t exactly to his taste, but they would have to do. Once dressed, he scoured the house to ensure it was empty. Fortunately, he had access to all of Ryder’s thoughts and feelings, so he knew Reuben and Evan were away for the weekend on a personal trip. The timing was perfect. There would be no one to interrupt or discover what he was about to do.
Returning to the bedroom, Erryd moved the bed aside, revealing Ryder’s limp form lying on the floor, his rune glowing a faint, ominous red. The glow pulsed weakly with each beat of the frei’s heart, and Erryd felt a flicker of irritation at the sight. He grabbed Ryder’s ribbon and yanked, dragging the unconscious body across the floor.
Erryd took a steadying breath, channeling what he knew of Ryder’s magic alongside his own dark abilities. He closed his eyes, visualizing a concealed bunker beneath the floorboards — a hidden compartment with a hatch and a padlock. Green and violet magic swirled around his fingertips, then sank into the floor in a burst of colored smoke. The room seemed to shudder, wood groaning as the floorboards shifted to make way for the hatch.
The task was simple in theory, but the reality took its toll on him. As the smoke cleared, revealing the newly formed hatch, Erryd’s exhaustion hit him like a crashing wave. His headache worsened, and he staggered, struggling to stay upright. Still, he couldn’t stop now. He opened the hatch, undoing the lock with shaky hands. With what little strength he had left, he shoved Ryder’s body inside, securing the padlock and moving the bed back into place to cover the hidden compartment.
The exertion was too much. His vision blurred, and he stumbled to the bed, collapsing onto it without a second thought. Sleep was all he could focus on — sleep and the satisfaction of knowing his secret was temporarily safe.
As the room settled into silence, Renard cautiously approached the doorway, drawn by the unfamiliar noises. The foxfish peeked in, his amber eyes narrowing with suspicion. He let out a low, uncertain growl, sensing that something was deeply wrong. Renard had always been sensitive to changes in Ryder’s presence, and this felt different — distorted, almost hollow.
The foxfish inched closer, his fins twitching nervously. He stared at the bed where Erryd lay and then sniffed the air, searching for any sign of Ryder. Whe he detected none, Renard’s ears flattened, and he let out a soft, distressed whine. His instincts told him that this intruder was not Ryder, and yet he recognized something familiar enough to keep him wary.
After a moment of hesitation, Renard turned away from the bedroom, trotting off in search of a place to hide. He knew something was terribly wrong, and though he couldn’t articulate it, the foxfish felt an urgent need to be cautious until his true friend returned — or until this imposter revealed his hand.
With a grim determination, Erryd searched Ryder’s closet, pulling out clothing that met his criteria. They weren’t exactly to his taste, but they would have to do. Once dressed, he scoured the house to ensure it was empty. Fortunately, he had access to all of Ryder’s thoughts and feelings, so he knew Reuben and Evan were away for the weekend on a personal trip. The timing was perfect. There would be no one to interrupt or discover what he was about to do.
Returning to the bedroom, Erryd moved the bed aside, revealing Ryder’s limp form lying on the floor, his rune glowing a faint, ominous red. The glow pulsed weakly with each beat of the frei’s heart, and Erryd felt a flicker of irritation at the sight. He grabbed Ryder’s ribbon and yanked, dragging the unconscious body across the floor.
Erryd took a steadying breath, channeling what he knew of Ryder’s magic alongside his own dark abilities. He closed his eyes, visualizing a concealed bunker beneath the floorboards — a hidden compartment with a hatch and a padlock. Green and violet magic swirled around his fingertips, then sank into the floor in a burst of colored smoke. The room seemed to shudder, wood groaning as the floorboards shifted to make way for the hatch.
The task was simple in theory, but the reality took its toll on him. As the smoke cleared, revealing the newly formed hatch, Erryd’s exhaustion hit him like a crashing wave. His headache worsened, and he staggered, struggling to stay upright. Still, he couldn’t stop now. He opened the hatch, undoing the lock with shaky hands. With what little strength he had left, he shoved Ryder’s body inside, securing the padlock and moving the bed back into place to cover the hidden compartment.
The exertion was too much. His vision blurred, and he stumbled to the bed, collapsing onto it without a second thought. Sleep was all he could focus on — sleep and the satisfaction of knowing his secret was temporarily safe.
As the room settled into silence, Renard cautiously approached the doorway, drawn by the unfamiliar noises. The foxfish peeked in, his amber eyes narrowing with suspicion. He let out a low, uncertain growl, sensing that something was deeply wrong. Renard had always been sensitive to changes in Ryder’s presence, and this felt different — distorted, almost hollow.
The foxfish inched closer, his fins twitching nervously. He stared at the bed where Erryd lay and then sniffed the air, searching for any sign of Ryder. Whe he detected none, Renard’s ears flattened, and he let out a soft, distressed whine. His instincts told him that this intruder was not Ryder, and yet he recognized something familiar enough to keep him wary.
After a moment of hesitation, Renard turned away from the bedroom, trotting off in search of a place to hide. He knew something was terribly wrong, and though he couldn’t articulate it, the foxfish felt an urgent need to be cautious until his true friend returned — or until this imposter revealed his hand.