Chapter Text
Faces changed at night.
When the shadows crawl and nestle into hollow cheeks, making inky homes out of the soft drooping skin below eyes. Any light present becomes too sharp, contrasting with hard lines that cut bones, jawlines, arches of noses. Oil to water and yet the water, the darkness, tries to swallow it whole. A thirsting creature.
Light may reveal everything, it may allow one to see soft features and gentle smiles and shining eyes, but it has never been a question about fearing what's in the light.
It's what one can't see that seeps from flesh into the shadows, reveals itself in the form of black inky water. It claws at the skin of gentle features until they're marred and exposed and raw. Smiles are all pointed teeth and curled lips. The things one fears live in the darkness. And when the darkness inside oneself begins to leak out, it comes alive in the shadows.
You see, it's never truly gone. In the light it hides, bides it's time and watches. Learns.
There are those who can see it. In themselves and in others. They can see the cutting edges in the light. In the darkness it swims at the edge of their vision, creeps across their skin raising bumps of dread. Some fear it. Some do their best to ignore it. Others embrace it. They look for the things that try to hide. They face them.
They are the people the darkness fears.
And what, really, should one feel faced with the fear of a fear?
Olwyn understood now, why these creatures were called Terrors. Why the name was whispered in the day and never spoken at night.
The Terror that crouched before him was poised to strike, making it known should he move an inch, it would be the last foolish choice he'd make.
The darkness of night shrouded the details of the figure. Blocky shapes and crunching leaves were all he could make out as it shifted. Olwyn held his breath, the tree at his back the only thing serving to keep him still and steady enough not to pass out from the fear that laced through him, cold and chilling.
Another crunch, the snap of a twig. Olwyn flinched as the thick shadows moved closer. He wanted to close his eyes, wishing his imagination could be strong enough to twist reality into opening them to his bedroom at home. Safe.
The Terror was directly in front of him now, just as it was buried in his bones, looming over his huddled form. The bark cut into his spine as he dug his heels into the ground, trying to get further away but not move enough to alert it.
He couldn't bear to be haunted by the sight before him, even in death. Olwyn closed his eyes and waited. Until the pain of the creature’s claws dug through his chest or the sudden stopping of his heart from the thundering pace of it behind his ribcage sent him to an early grave.
There was a tap to his cheek, suddenly enough that his whole body jerked violently. His heel slipped out from the rut it had dug in the earth. The sole of his boot knocked into something solid, firm. Something that caused the Terror to grunt and shift. It was a deep sound. The first he'd heard from it besides the crunch of detritus beneath its feet.
It had been so quiet. Eerily lurking through the shadows. Just like the stories said. A creature darkness itself fears.
Olwyn had never been afraid of the dark, but this, this he was afraid of.
The touch came again, but he was ready for it. Body so tense he nearly felt his bones caving under the pressure of his muscles. The touch lingered, a small spot on his cheek until the feeling spread, more spots of touches, fingertips. The Terror had hands. It was a startling realization.
A rough palm cupped his cheek, and Olwyn opened his eyes. Not to be greeted with the comfort of his home, but instead, the ice blue nearly glowing eyes of a creature no one had survived to depict.
It looked like him. Human. It was leaning close. Close enough that even in the dark he could see the Terror’s angled jaw, deep scar cutting vertically over its left eye. It's path only interrupted by that piercing blue that met his gaze sharply.
Olwyn couldn't breathe. Didn't dare. The Terror was close enough to feel his breath brush its face should he exhale the air tightening his lungs.
Dark locks of hair framed its face, skin smudged with dirt and grim and what he hoped wasn't the blood of the victim before him.
It tilted its head.
Olwyn swallowed.
The creatures thumb brushed across his cheek bone. He couldn't see its other hand. He couldn't see if there was a weapon in its grasp.
The warmth of its skin was like fire, contrasting the cold air of the forest and for a moment all he could hear was the rustling leaves of the trees above. His only clue that time hadn’t really froze.
They didn't move.
The touch, should he dare to think, was a curious one. Studying. Gentle. The hand moved from his cheek, down to his neck, long fingers wrapping around the width but despite expecting it too, it never tightened.
It held still, the warmth of its fingertips soaking into his skin and spreading. Moving into his muscle, his lungs, his heart. It was a pleasant feeling. Banishing the cold from around him even momentarily.
There was a snap of a branch nearby, then the hand was gone, and the figure darted back, vanishing into the darkness like it belonged there without a sound.
It was a long moment before his lungs forced his breath out in a loud huff. Shudders wracking through his body, his muscles easing enough to allow his body to bend away from the tree. His skin was cold, all except for the lingering heat on his cheek and neck. He lifted a shaky hand to his throat. His own skin felt foreign, too warm, tingling too much.
He was alive. The Terror had fled. Maybe it was still close by. The lingering look of its piercing gaze felt like it was crawling under his eyelids. Those ice blue eyes. Human-like eyes.
The darkness wouldn't lift for a while yet. His stumbling through the woods, trying to find his way back to the village had gotten him even more lost.
If the Terror returned it would know where to find him, but a voice in the back of his mind argued it would be able to hunt him down anywhere the darkness touched. Until morning he wouldn't be safe. So, he stayed still. Remained where he was. The energy drained out of him, sucked from his bones, but the fear stayed, like the darkness it settled around him.
Half asleep, he let his mind wander, forgot about his environment in favour of remembering those blue eyes.
Curious blue eyes.
He was alive. And he didn't know why.