Cal.
Slumped behind a barrel, barely awake.
They stepped closer.
"Well, well," one of them said. "Looks like someone came here to die."
"Or sleep," another added. "Either way, let's see what he's got."
Their boots crunched on broken glass as they entered the alley.
Cal opened his eyes. His vision was blurry. Shadows stood over him—five shapes, armed and ready.
"Back off," he said, voice weak as he tried to sit up.
One of the Cutters laughed. "Still talking? Look at you—bleeding, shaking, and still trying to act tough."
Another knelt and poked him with his club. "You belong to anyone? No? Then you're free to take."
Cal growled and weakly pushed the hand away, but it was slow, clumsy.
They laughed again.
"Get up."
One of them grabbed his arm and pulled hard. Cal tried to resist, but pain shot through his ribs. He gritted his teeth as they dragged him out from behind the barrel.
"Don't make this harder," one said.
"I said get off!" Cal hissed. He swung again, and this time his fist hit a jaw—but it was weak, barely a tap.
The Cutter wiped his mouth. "Bad idea."
A heavy boot slammed into Cal's ribs.
He cried out, curling up as the others grabbed him by the arms and legs.
"Stop—let me go!" he shouted, twisting, but he was too weak.
They dragged him deeper into the alley, past the light, into the shadows.
No one watched. No one helped.
The city was loud tonight. Too loud.
One of the Cutters chuckled. "No one's gonna hear you scream."
Another leaned in close. "Wanna live? Then hand over that chain. And anything else you've got."
"I don't have—" Cal started.
A fist punched into his gut.
"Wrong answer."
One of the Cutters crouched in front of Cal and grabbed the chain around his neck.
It was Serna's necklace.
Old, a little worn—but hers.
"Let go," Cal said, gripping it tight.
The man scoffed. "Seriously? You're half-dead and still clinging to this?"
He tugged harder. The chain dug into Cal's skin.
"I said let go!" Cal snapped, but his fingers wouldn't open.
The Cutter stood and yanked with both hands.
Snap.
The chain broke.
"No!" Cal reached for it, but the man held it out of reach.
Something shifted inside Cal.
Like something had broken.
He didn't know what it was—but the air felt wrong.
No.
He wouldn't lose this too.
Not again.
His head dropped forward. His breath slowed.
The Cutters laughed and passed the necklace around.
Then they stopped.
The shadows on the ground moved.
Not from the torchlight.
Not from their feet.
Their shadows.
They twisted. Like they were alive.
One Cutter frowned. "What the—?"
His own shadow rose up like a rope and wrapped around his neck.
"Gah—!"
He clawed at it, choking.
Another turned to run. His shadow grabbed his legs and dragged him down.
"Help! What is this?!"
The third didn't even get to shout. A dark shape covered his head and pulled him back.
The fourth raised his club, but a shadow wrapped his arms and throat.
He dropped to his knees, gasping.
Only one Cutter remained.
He stared at Cal.
The boy wasn't moving.
But the shadows around him were.
The Cutter screamed.
Then everything went quiet.
-
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-
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-
-
After what felt like hours, Cal's eyes slowly opened.
The alley was very quiet. Too quiet.
His whole body hurt, and every breath stabbed his ribs. He tried to move.
His eyes looked around.
The Cutters lay on the ground, twisted and still.
His hand touched something cold on the ground. He looked down.
It was Serna's pendant.
The chain was broken, but the pendant was still there—smooth and worn, just like he remembered.
Cal held it tightly.
"What… happened?" he whispered, his voice weak.
The alley felt empty and still.
He pushed himself up, pain shooting through his side.
The Cutters were dead. And he hadn't moved.
Cal pressed the pendant to his lips.
"I won't let this happen again."
Cal's eyes narrowed as he looked at the fallen Cutters.
Had someone else killed them? But who??
He tried to think, but his head was cloudy, and his body felt heavy and weak.
Carefully, he pushed himself up, using the cold, rough wall to steady himself.
Sharp pain stabbed his side, but he ignored it. He had to keep moving.
His legs trembled as he stood, but he held Serna's pendant tightly in his hand.
He took a slow, unsteady step forward, then another.
Putting one foot in front of the other, he walked away from the dark alley and the broken bodies.
His mind was racing, full of questions.
Cal's legs shook as he stepped out of the alley. His breath was short, his side burning with pain.
He tried to keep going, but the world spun. His vision blurred, and his knees buckled.
Before he knew it, his body gave out. He collapsed hard onto the cold, rough ground.
Darkness crept at the edges of his sight. He was too tired to fight it.
A shadow moved nearby.
A woman in a black robe stepped closer, her face hidden under a deep hood.
-
The alley was quiet except for the low murmur of voices. Word had spread quickly.
By midday, a small crowd had gathered at the entrance, whispering in excitement. Broken shadows stretched across the cracked cobblestones where the Cutters' bodies lay motionless.
"Is that really them?" a shopkeeper asked, clutching a basket of fruit tightly.
"They're dead," said a woman nearby, eyes wide with disbelief. "All of them—the Cutters."
A low cheer rippled through the crowd.
"Finally," muttered a man. "Those bastards have been bleeding us dry for months."