Dark Side of the Underworld

STEFAN

My sneakers carried me down the streets of Washington, D.C., toward West Potomac Park, my bag slung over my back. The earthy smell of the forest always calmed my mind. The damp ground and softwood trees—God’s creation, like everything else on Earth—felt grounding.

I grinned, strolling through the park and breathing in the fresh scent of water and wildflowers. The sound of a waterfall echoed nearby as I passed countless trees and shrubs. There was something about forests that always called to me—something that seemed to pull my soul toward them. Maybe it was the peaceful sound of the running stream or the birds singing in the trees. It made my mind wander, allowing me to forget my doubts.

I had just left the GW School of Medicine and Health Sciences, hoping nobody had noticed my absence. Skipping school wasn’t new for me—it had happened more than a few times before. But what eighteen-year-old didn’t skip class now and then?

Today was May 21st, and I’d been at the college for nearly five months. This was probably the fiftieth time I’d skipped class. If I focused on something else besides medicine, maybe I wouldn’t ditch school. But what else could I study? I had no idea what I wanted to do, and my parents insisted on me becoming a doctor.

I had about an hour before I needed to head back to the city—well, home, at least. I spent half of it reading a post-apocalyptic novel, One Second After by William R. Forstchen, while leaning against a tree in the woods.

Suddenly, I wondered if my older brother, Tyler, was home. A wave of concern swept over me as I made my way back to Brookland by subway, my fingers almost nervously tapping on the edge of the seat. My heart raced, uncertain about what awaited me at home.

I always felt a knot in my stomach when I came home early. I never knew if Tyler would be there. Our parents were rarely home, always traveling. Tyler usually stayed over to check on me, even though he had his own apartment in Downtown.

My father, Derrick, was a digital nomad, and my mother, Rachel, sometimes traveled with him. She was a talented artist but worked as an architect. Tyler, on the other hand, was a home-based mechanic.

“Stefan.” I heard a voice whisper near me.

I froze, every muscle in my body tensing. I glanced to my left—the seat beside me was still empty. I took a slow breath, trying to stay calm.

Just ignore it, I told myself.

“Stefan.” The voice came again, softer this time.

Seriously?

I turned back to the window, focusing on a calming song in my mind to block out the whispers. Our God by Chris Tomlin.

When I reached the familiar street, I exhaled, trying to calm my nerves. But as I approached the pale house, the sounds from the open garage caught my attention.

The front yard wasn’t large, but a stone path—grey, white, and blue—wound through the green grass toward the porch. Rose bushes and tulips framed the steps beautifully.

I walked down the path, my gaze flickering toward the open garage door. As I entered the house, I closed the dark wooden door behind me and rushed up the stairs to my bedroom. I threw my backpack across my double bed and sighed, leaning my back against the door.

My bedroom wasn’t big. White walls, navy-blue carpet. Opposite me were three windows with my desk beneath them. To my left was the closet, and my bed—blue, black, and silver—sat to my right against the wall.

My dark blue jeans were slightly dirty, but my navy button-up dress shirt still looked neat.

I didn’t understand why I always got so nervous about skipping school. Maybe I was afraid of disappointing my parents. They were always disappointed in Tyler when he messed up—skipping school, failing grades. What parent wouldn’t be?

Honestly, I wished this year would just end. I hated college as much as I’d hated high school. Why couldn’t I be like other teenagers who didn’t care about their education? Sure, I didn’t care about becoming a doctor, but I wouldn’t dare tell my parents that. They were strict, and if they found out I’d been skipping classes, they’d cancel their travels and come back. It was hard enough having Tyler watching me, even though he had his own life. When Tyler stayed over, I still felt alone.

Alone. That was how I felt every time I woke up in the middle of the night, haunted by the feeling of my life ending. I didn’t know what the creatures in the shadows were, but I knew one thing: they wanted me dead.

Shaking my head to clear those thoughts, I walked over to my desk and grabbed my motorcycle keys.

Shit, I froze. Tyler’s in the garage.

I could take the train or the bus again, but I didn’t want to risk him finding out I was home early.

I rushed out of my bedroom, ran down the stairs, and opened the front door just a crack. The front lawn was empty. I stepped outside, silently shutting the door behind me. My heartbeat quickened as I tiptoed across the grass toward the side of the house, heading toward the garage.

The garage was separate from the house, and there was a beautiful garden out back. I couldn’t hear anything from the garage as I approached the driveway path. Peeking into the open entrance, I saw Tyler’s midnight black BMW parked in the center with the jack underneath. His tools were scattered across the floor like a scrapyard.

Crap. Where was Tyler? I thought, my eyes darting around in search of him.

I stepped back, spun around, and almost bumped into something behind me.

My instincts kicked in. I threw my fist forward in a wild swing, aiming to defend myself. But just as quickly, Tyler ducked and caught my wrist in mid-air.

My heart slammed against my ribcage, and I stared at him in wide-eyed amazement.

He was taller than me—about six-foot-one, lanky yet muscular. I, on the other hand, stood at five-foot-ten—thin but with enough muscle to avoid being called a “geek.” We both had dark brown hair; his was shorter, straighter, and thinner than mine, which resembled our mom’s, though it didn’t curl as much. My eyes were a deep chocolate brown, while his were a lighter shade of brown. My skin was medium fair, but Tyler’s had a light olive tan.

I let my arms fall to my sides and took a step back. “Sorry,” I muttered, out of breath.

Tyler smirked. “I’m glad to see Dad’s self-defense training stuck with you,” he said, his tone light but his eyes sharp. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you skipped school again. Third time this week, Stefan.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Don’t act like Mom,” I shot back, crossing my arms. “Her lectures sound a lot better than yours.”

Tyler rolled his eyes in response.

“Besides,” I added, glancing over Tyler’s shoulder at Ms. Thompson across the street, “Are we really going to have this conversation outside for all the neighbors to hear?”

Ms. Joseline Thompson was kneeling by her porch steps, her silver-brown hair tied in a messy bun. Her blue eyes were fixed on us as she carefully watched the interaction. She wore a faded yellow t-shirt, blue jeans, and gardening gloves stained with dirt.

Tyler followed my gaze and turned to face Ms. Thompson. I waved, and she smiled back, her expression warm.

“We’ll talk later,” Tyler muttered, then grabbed my arm as I tried to walk past him.

I clenched my teeth at the rough grip, but before I could react, he pushed me toward the front porch. I gave in, lessening the pressure in his hold, and let him guide me inside the house.

Our home wasn’t modern, but it was comfortable. The walls were a warm brown, and the front room was spacious. To my left was a study area, and an old wooden staircase led upstairs. On the right was the living room with a yellow and brown kitchen beyond it. Upstairs, there were three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a small study.

“So, what?” I snapped once inside, shrugging off my jacket. “I skipped school again. I’ll just catch up on everything like always.”

Tyler rolled his eyes once more, crossing his arms. “That’s not the point, Stefan. You can’t keep skipping.”

I shot back, “Like you’re such a great role model. Look where your education got you.”

He shook his head, exasperated. “Maybe I should just call Mom.”

I groaned, rubbing my face with both hands. “Tyler, please, don’t.”

“Give me one good reason why not.”

I inhaled deeply, eyes darting toward the ceiling as I thought. How could I explain this to him? He wouldn’t understand. He was trying his best, but he couldn’t see it from my perspective.

“It’s too much pressure,” I admitted quietly. “It feels like I’m wasting my time. And I don’t even know why I’m doing it anymore.”

Tyler’s expression softened, but he didn’t look convinced. “Then talk to Mom and Dad.”

“I don’t want them to be disappointed,” I replied, my voice tight.

“Of course,” Tyler muttered, clearly frustrated. “That’s why I’ve been covering for you the past five months.”

“Thanks, by the way,” I said with a sigh, running a hand through my hair. “I just don’t fit in at college. It’s like high school all over again.”

“At least you graduated earlier,” he said, disappearing into the kitchen.

“Tyler...” I trailed after him. “I’m sorry.”

He paused at the kitchen arch, a confused look crossing his face. “What for?”

“I know it’s hard for you to look after me when I’m so... rebellious.”

He chuckled softly. “You’re not rebellious, Stefan. You just... I wish you’d see how lucky you are.”

“Tyler, believe me,” I said, voice thick with frustration. “There’s nothing more miserable than living in this life of mine. I might be smart, but it doesn’t bring happiness. People look at me like I’m some freak because I don’t do what they do. I don’t dream the same dreams they do.”

The memory of last year’s nightmare flooded my mind—the shadow creature with claws, dragging me into darkness. The terror I felt was too real, and I couldn’t shake it off. I’d hidden it from everyone, embarrassed by how afraid I had been. Tyler and Simon thought it was because of the horror movie they’d made me watch. But I knew better. Those nightmares weren’t from a film. They were something else.

“Are you still having nightmares?” Tyler’s voice pulled me back to the present.

I froze, my shoulders stiffening. “Yeah...” I muttered, my voice barely audible. “Every night. And it feels like it’s getting worse.”

Tyler didn’t respond immediately. His hand rested on my shoulder as if offering comfort.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, though his words felt hollow. “You’re just imagining things.”

I suppressed a growl of irritation. “You always say that. It just makes it worse.”

Tyler sighed. “They’re only dreams.”

I nodded stiffly, though I knew it wasn’t just that.

“I’ll call your professor before I start dinner,” he said, his voice quiet.

I mumbled a thanks and headed toward the door.

Outside, I was relieved to find my motorcycle waiting for me. I pushed it out of the garage and locked it behind me, then started the engine. The roar of the bike felt comforting. I sped through town, stopping at my favorite bookstore, “Walls of Books.”

Inside, the cozy atmosphere calmed me. I perused the shelves, running my fingers across the spines of books until one caught my attention. A thick, old navy hardcover: Mystical Creatures.

The words on the cover made my brows furrow: “Only for Hunters.”

A chill ran down my spine. I took a step back, the air suddenly heavy.

Then I heard a whisper.

“She’s coming.”

I froze. The temperature seemed to drop. My chest tightened.

Turning quickly, I scanned the aisle, but there was no one there.

I shook my head, trying to dismiss the voice. But then I saw her.

A woman, young—probably my age—moved past me, her scent like sweet watermelon. She wore a midnight leather jacket and dark skinny jeans, her golden hair falling in soft curls around her shoulders.

She didn’t seem to notice me. It was as if no one else in the store did either.

I followed her outside, hidden behind a brick wall. She was meeting a young man.

My heart skipped when I noticed the knife. Silver-bladed, hidden behind her back.

And then she struck.

She drove the blade through the man’s ribcage, and before I could even react, his body burst into flames.

I gasped, my breath catching in my throat. I was frozen, unsure whether this was real or another nightmare.

The atmosphere around me shifted—became lighter, almost surreal. The woman turned to face me, her eyes locking onto mine.

I froze.

Her eyes—dark, like mine—bore into me. She was beautiful, like something out of a myth.

I felt my body move before my mind did. I turned and ran.

“Stefan,” a familiar voice called out.

I ignored it, racing to my bike.

Another voice followed, more urgent: “Don’t leave.”

I revved the engine, speeding away, my heart pounding in my chest. The streets blurred around me as I headed back to Brookland.