I crouched near the edge of the rooftop, wiping my nose beneath my mask with the back of my wrist. My gaze scanned the street below—silent, still, empty. Not a single Demodog in sight. Not a screech. Not a footstep. Not even the distant rustle of wings.
Too quiet.
It had been quiet since I left the house beneath the hive. That alone was enough to raise every internal alarm I had.
The last time the Upside Down was quiet, something was waiting.
I didn't like it.
Still, I couldn't afford to linger. I adjusted the needles strapped to my forearms with duct tape, checking the tautness of the bindings. The makeshift weaponry—sharpened wooden shards about the length of my hand—jutted from under my sleeves like a porcupine's quills. I'd carved them days ago, during the downtime. They were crude, but they'd pierce soft flesh. And that was all I needed them to do.
I pulled my mask up over my face, hiding everything below my eyes. The cloth was damp from breath and sweat, sticky with dried blood from previous nosebleeds. It didn't help much, not against the iron-thick air, but it helped me feel like I could breathe. That was enough.
I looked out one last time.
Still no movement. No growls. No shifting shadow in the corners of the ruined buildings. Just the fog. Just the wind.
"Stay sharp," I muttered under my breath. My voice barely echoed in the strange, dead quiet.
Then I leapt.
THUD.
My boots landed against the cracked asphalt, silent except for the slight crunch of grit beneath my heels. I wasted no time sprinting forward. Over a collapsed fence. Around rusted-out cars. Through the remains of what had once been suburban Hawkins. I weaved between the half-eaten skeletons of mailboxes and porch swings, keeping my profile low.
But no matter how far I ran, the silence held.
It started to gnaw at me.
Where were they?
I skidded to a stop.
My breath came in small puffs, fogging the mask for a split second before dispersing. My legs ached. My lungs burned, but I wasn't gasping—not yet. I could keep going. But this?
This silence?
I didn't trust it.
I turned slowly, scanning every inch of the twisted world around me. I didn't move for several seconds. I just listened.
And that's when I realized.
The wind was gone.
The air, though always heavy here, had gone still. The fungal mist that normally curled through the streets now hung motionless, suspended like it had been caught mid-thought. The world wasn't just quiet. It was watching.
Thunder cracked overhead—KRA-KOOM!—and I flinched, jerking my gaze up to the sky.
What I saw made my blood turn to ice.
The clouds were moving.
Not drifting. Not rolling.
Descending.
They churned like boiling ink, swirling with veins of red lightning that laced through them like burning vines. Black tendrils of smoke-like vapor spiraled downward, slithering toward the ground with eerie grace.
A shape began to form.
Massive. Sinister. Intentional.
Thunder rolled again, this time like a voice—low, growling, intelligent.
"What the hell…" I whispered, taking an involuntary step back.
The clouds didn't just resemble something.
They were something.
The fog didn't billow randomly. It moved with direction. The red lightning wasn't sporadic. It outlined… limbs. Claws. A head that didn't quite look human.
And behind those clouds… something else. A mind.
That's when I realized it: this wasn't weather.
This was the storm.
The one I had awakened the night I leveled the hive. The one I had seen forming ever since, always lingering above like a distant storm front, always growing.
It had finally come.
The Mind Flayer.
I didn't know the name yet—but I knew it. Whatever it was, it was wrong. It wasn't like the Demodogs or the bats. This was bigger. Older. Deeper.
I turned.
My boots slammed against the cracked road as I took off, lungs aching, heart pounding like a war drum in my ears.
The cloud—the thing—was descending behind me.
No, not behind.
Over me.
Surrounding me.
Swallowing the sky itself.
I didn't have the words for what I was seeing.
A storm? No. A shadow? Closer. But this wasn't cast by any sun.
CRACK-KROOOOM!
Lightning forked from the swirling mass above like blood veins across glass, thick and red and twitching.
Thunder followed, a grinding snarl that shook the ground beneath me. The air stung, charged with something raw and unnatural.
It wasn't just sound. It was pressure. The kind that makes your bones vibrate. The kind that tells animals to run.
And I was running.
Every footstep was a gamble. My stamina was bleeding out of me with every burst. The muscles in my legs felt like they were tearing apart. My arms were heavy from channeling too much force too fast.
My vision blurred as blood dripped from my nose again, soaking into the mask over my mouth. I didn't wipe it. Didn't have time.
I didn't know what this thing was.
But I knew I couldn't outrun it forever.
"Faster…" I hissed aloud to myself. "Move, move!"
I shot forward, leaping over a smashed car and landing hard. Cracks spiderwebbed underfoot. Another bolt of crimson lightning lashed across the sky—KRAKA-THOOM!—lighting the streets in hellish color.
The cloud loomed.
It didn't have a body. That's what unnerved me most. No face. No limbs. Just that... awareness. That relentless, hunting pressure.
I could feel it watching me.
Mocking me.
"I don't know what you are," I growled between breaths. "But you're not taking me. Not today."
I jumped, telekinesis launching me higher than I should've been able to go, twisting midair. I faced the storm, teeth grit, both hands thrust outward—
BOOOM!
A ripple of force tore from my palms, hammering the storm's front like a battering ram. The winds screamed. Ash and rot spun like a tornado. For a second—just a second—I thought it worked.
Then the cloud twisted. Reformed. Replaced itself. Like smoke blown from a flame.
"Shit…" I muttered, landing hard, knees buckling. "It's not… it's not a thing."
It wasn't alive in the way the Demodogs were. It wasn't something I could hurt. It was the air. The sky.
That thought chilled me.
And now I could see it—my base. My home. My shelter in this wasteland. The crooked house that had kept me alive for days. It wasn't far now. But I slowed.
Because I couldn't take this thing there.
The barricades, the walls—useless. They wouldn't stop a cloud. Wouldn't even slow it down. And if it found my base… that was it. Nowhere left to go.
"Think," I panted, feet pounding the pavement. "Think, think, think…"
I cut right, a sharp turn that scraped my boots against shattered road. I spotted a fence—rickety but tall—and leapt. My foot hit the top slat, springing me skyward.
A second story window loomed ahead. Without thinking, I threw my shoulder forward—
CRASH! Glass exploded around me. I tumbled into the room, rolling across the dusty floorboards. Sharp edges bit into my coat and padding. I didn't stop.
Up. Forward. Fast.
I stumbled down the hallway, doors slamming open around me. My powers lashed out subconsciously, ripping one off its hinges—
WRAAM!—and hurling it out the window ahead.
I dove again.
SHATTER! More glass. Wind howled as I tucked my body and hit the roof of a shed. Rolled. Fell. Slammed into the back alley with a grunt.
Didn't stop.
Didn't breathe.
I was already up, bolting through the ruined yards, skidding across wet, fungus-slick grass.
Finally, finally, I reached the back fence of my base. I threw myself over it, slammed into the wall, yanked open the back door, and stumbled inside.
The air was stale and quiet.
Safe.
I slammed the door shut, bolted it, shoved a broken shelf in front for good measure. My chest heaved, lungs burning. My knees buckled.
I was home.
I was safe.
I forced myself to the stairs, staggering upward. My body moved on instinct. Get high. Get vantage. Get vision. I didn't even know what I was looking for.
I reached the window.
Slowly, carefully, I leaned forward, just enough to peer through the cracks.
Nothing.
The storm cloud was gone.
Not dispersed. Not retreated. Just… vanished.
My breath hitched.
I turned to sit down—
SHHHHHK.
A sound like wind through broken teeth.
My blood went cold.
I turned.
The room was full of shadow.
Not cast. Not natural.
Seeping.
Through the cracks of the window frame. Through the floorboards. Through the very air itself.
A tendril of smoke—no, not smoke, something darker, something sentient—slithered toward me. I stumbled back, slipped on the floor, hit my elbow against the wall.
Then more came.
Black streaks pouring through every gap, every seam. Inky ropes writhing toward me. Around me. Into me.
My nose. My mouth. My ears. My eyes.
And then…
Nothing.
Silence.
Darkness.
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I appreciate all the feedback I've been getting. Really does motivate me to keep going with this project of mine.
I don't mind posting another chapter today. If you guys want it, just show me with the powerstones. Depending on how much we get I'll post in a few hours.
Thanks to you all again