A stalker
"Don't you think Kazamir is very dangerous?"
The boy tilted his head slightly. "Something, but I need to eat," he replied, weaving through the crowd.
The city was relatively new to him, even though he knew he had been here several months before. It was difficult for him to get used to an overly modern environment, especially with so many people out walking late at night.
"Why didn't Vesna come?"
"Didn't you pay attention?"
He noticed her silence as she walked, staring straight ahead. "She's an important sheriff," he replied.
Of the few things Kazamir accepted, it was the city built near a mountain, across a river. The torrential rains were no joke. Times when he had to take shelter with enormous supplies due to the colossal floods caused by the rains, its drainage systems constantly clogged by the dust that always fell unexpectedly from the sky. When there's no rain, it's unpleasant to deal with the dampness it leaves on the buildings. Fortunately, there are merchants selling cooked meats on the streets, leaving a strong odor.
After hours of walking, they arrived almost at the outskirts of the city.
"Are you sure you're not terrified of Kazamir?" the little Ghost told him.
"If you're scared, just leave. Stop pressing on my shoulders." The Spectre obeyed and disappeared from her shoulders.
"Don't even think about leaving until I'm done. I hate feeling you stab me." He immediately ran his hand down the sides of her legs to verify her pistols were there. Confirming they were there, he drew a broadsword from his hip, holding it with both hands, letting it drag along the ground, leaving a straight trail.
The lack of trees combined with the cold darkness of the night made the tension on her heart grow worryingly thick. She only had to slide the skin of her hands over the metal to let that energy make the icy air disappear from her senses.
Vesna's stories about creatures roaming the outskirts sounded ridiculous to Kazamir, but they weren't impossible.
Suddenly, a voice clouded his thoughts for a moment. "Kazamir, I feel you. I sense a strange presence." The voice wasn't entirely clear, but he knew it was Spectre speaking to him.
He pointed his sword in the air, spinning around until a prod over his right shoulder signaled him to stop.
"How many?"
"Maybe a couple?"
With his left hand, he spread it over his silver sword, feeling a kind of energy circulate through his muscles. He should be grateful there was a market for people like him. Conductivity and toughness were essential to his duties as a Son of Dust. The surge of energy eventually spread throughout his body. The night was clearer, sounds were easier to perceive, and his eyes glowed amber, accompanied by black cracks spreading around them.
He grabbed a tiny stone from a satchel hanging from his belt, imbued it with that strange energy, and threw it as high as possible into the sky. The stone's weight increased beyond his own, pulling him toward it, violently propelling him skyward. The higher he went, the easier it was to hold him in the air.
With a high view, it was easy for him to notice twisted figures scuttling through the trees.
"There," he said to himself.
He pulled out another stone. When he threw it toward the creature, it increased its weight and pulled him closer. Before it hit the ground, its air resistance increased. The landing was secure to a certain point. He rolled several times until he managed to regain his balance.
For a moment, silence reigned. A muffled, heart-rending scream sounded in front of him; after the first roar, another. Only two. Those creatures slowly approached Kazamir, each step increasing his fear, his heart beating faster. Until he managed to see a fleeting human silhouette.
No. It wasn't human.
Above the supposedly human face was a monstrous head carrying a large horn, the horn almost obliterating its eyes; that thing, too, was no longer bipedal. As if its collarbone and shoulders were dislocated, each step it took raised itself more to one side than the other, supporting itself with its two long front arms, fingers so long they competed with its nails. And its obviously decomposed skin—he hadn't noticed the smell so clearly until he was standing right in front of it—they seemed to know how to control the range of their scent.
Silence took control of the situation; he no longer felt the other monster nearby, yet the one in front of him didn't move, as still as a corpse.
"To your left!" the Spectre, taking human form, shouted.
The pain made Kazamir react, turning to his side as he watched the beast begin to pant and run straight toward him.
He knew the creature in front of him was going to kill him.
He knew the creature in front of him was going to attack, so he created a flesh arm from the side of the beast hovering on his side. Giving him time to react to his opponent's scratch, the arm stopped the beast by its neck. He created another arm to cover the first monster's small eyes and slash at its chest, taking five steps back. The other had discarded its arm and was about to jump on top of the boy. The boy side-stepped and lunged at the beast's long arm, slicing it open.
"Damn it, Specter, get out of here!"
That scream frightened the Specter, who disappeared instantly, but the pain left his shoulders.
The creature with the wounded chest rammed Kazamir, throwing him into the air. When he tried to ram him again, he increased his own weight and reduced the friction, this time pushing him much less. He took the opportunity to press his hand against him, increasing the friction, making it harder for him to move. Aided by his enhanced speed, he dodged an attack aimed at his head and slammed an upward blow into the monster's head, scattering brains everywhere.
He braced himself for the arrival of the other, but it had fled. He quickly took flesh samples.
He grabbed a couple of pebbles and dashed back toward the city.
A cry of pain escaped Kazamir as the specter dug its fingers into his shoulders. He stood up, turning his head in fear.
"It's morning, come on, get up." He got up reluctantly while rubbing his back.
"It's very uncomfortable to sleep on a roof. Come on, hurry up. We need to eat and find a more dignified place to rest than a roof."
"It's easier for you to talk to me, not dig your claws in," he snapped.
"Hurry, before everyone leaves." With a leap, he descended onto a bridge that connected to the city's central square. The largest square in the city, where it was safe to be, had several raised plazas connected to a network of bridges for their use.
His walk to the meeting point with Vesna was very unpleasant for him, too many people passing by. With such long bridges, carriages pulled by enormous amphibian species often passed by constantly. Rare, at least where Kazamir came from. The amphibians he knew were no more than the size of his arm, but these were absolutely nothing like them.
The passage of the river had eroded the city's terrain, leaving it flat, which is why the water stagnates, and even marine life spent days in it.
Kazamir had recently heard that they hadn't made more of an effort to get rid of the water because it also benefited the marine economy, which made sense, as they let the drain clog up from time to time to catch more fish.
The specter appeared behind him, lightly piercing his shoulders. "You should take off those gloves and let people see your arms. The days of hunting are over."
"What year are you from? They're still hunting. Imagine what they'd do to me for my arms, just by looking at them."
"But that was centuries ago; it's no longer a bad omen."
I raise an eyebrow at the Spectre's statement.
"I swear!"
"You suffer from some kind of terrible memory loss; our numbers are dwindling because of them. I've heard reports of nigrades, several devourers buried alive. It's about time you told me where you came from and why you only torment me," I clarified, annoyed.
"I don't know."
"You appeared after that lost gap in my memories, years ago, and you don't know?"
"I sometimes had small glimpses of what I was before, I think," he said uncertainly.
He turned his head to the Spectre. "What are they now?" he asked curiously.
"That they ate me." I've been having that one lately.
"Don't you know if the other Children can have visions too?"
The Spectre swayed her head from side to side. "Maybe. I know I know, but I'm not sure. I don't think there should be visions, and especially not that I should have them."
"Your visions don't fit with the current era."
"Apparently not."
"So you come from the past, don't you?"
She turned to look at Kazamir, puzzled.
"And at least there's something new about me?"
The Spectre frowned. "Just what I've told you," he replied.
"Well, better that than nothing." Kazamir stopped in front of a simple but well-maintained building with a gray brick facade and tall windows. Surrounded by a red, somewhat rusty iron fence, the entrance door was slightly open.
She pushed the door, which emitted a soft creak, and walked along a narrow cobblestone path that wound through overgrown bushes. The air smelled of wet earth. He walked straight to the door, which he eventually opened, leading into a well-kept living room.
A woman with harsh features and jet-black hair emerged from the kitchen. She walked with two cups in her hand directly to a small table in the center of the room, placed them on it, and invited the boy to sit.
"What do you have for my Son of Dust?"
