Guardians of the Dark

Give a man a mask, and he’ll show you his true face.

That's what they say, but it’s not as easy when the man is a young boy, and his mask is one of innocence, ignorance.

Except he’s not a young boy. The Dark had made his skin blue, and his teeth razor sharp. It had sucked out his conscience and made him hungry for death, for souls. He was born a monster, and I couldn’t see it.

Not until it was too late.

I expel a hollow breath. Steam laps at my visor, but the regulator keeps my sight clear. If only it had the same effect on my mind. I look frantically about the expanse of sand, barely able to see anything in the Dark. But it’s not about what I see. It’s about what I hear. Roamers, their growls closing in.

Those mindless creatures, even worse than the Corrupted.

“Dada, I don’t like it out here.” Samael clings to my insulation suit, his bare fingers working at the padding. He himself doesn’t need a suit, doesn’t need protection from the cursed smog that covers the earth.

It’s too late for that.

“Where’s Mama and Kasen? I want to go where they are.”

“They’re on their way.” They weren’t, but Samael can’t know that. Just like they can’t know about this, my plan.

It has to be done.

If Samael keeps living with us, if he grows to realise what his hunger means … We were able to stop him today, but tomorrow? Kasen is much too young to understand. He’ll give Samael anything, even his soul.

A huff shoots up my throat. Yes. This is the right thing to do. If not, it’s the best thing. For the city, for my wife.

For my son.

“This is far enough.” I stop and ball my fists. The Metropolis of Light looms behind us, its luminosity futile against the surrounding Dark. I bend and take Samael by the shoulders, barely meeting his eyes.

“Dada, I’m scared,” he repeats, his bottom lip quivering.

A Roamer growls beyond the closest sand dune and he jerks, tiny whimpers escaping his lips. His breathing quickens.

“You’re a brave boy, aren’t you?” I ask, and Samael nods. “You'll stay here while I go fetch Mama and Kasen?”

Another nod.

Another growl beyond the dune.

I start to reverse. “Stay here. Promise me, Samael, you’ll stay right here?”

“You’ll come right back, won’t you?” He makes to step forward, but I show a hand at him and he stops. Tears streak his cheeks in thin lines, glimmering by the city’s light. He heaves, his chest rising and falling.

“Of course. Just stay put.” My heels twist around in the sand, and I speed up into a jog. The rustling of my insulation suit drowns out the boy’s final call, his final enquiry as to whether I’ll return for him.

Which I won’t.