a gorgeous white by Heather_anare

241: Malibreads, Creatures of devils

"What is this?"

Moulin's voice was hoarse. Like a parched man dying to escape a scorching desert, craving for even a drop of water. It sounded as if cracked, broken. A feeling of unease sits within his words, and he continued to stare at the image on the water, his own reflection. It felt foreign. Although he faced the feeling of familiarity, he was uncomfortable.

This is me?...

What happened?

At last, the youth pulled his gaze away and lifted his head. His eyes fell upon the dreariness of his surroundings. It felt as though he was a lost child facing the cold emptiness of the world. The skies weren't bright like he used to remember-the sun, hidden behind the thick clouds of grey. A blanket of pallid white stretched outwards, layering the ground ominously. But what caught his eyes were the towering trees, dark and bare. Their branches appeared like stretching limbs, thorny and sharp. As though a bird that flies through them would be shredded into bits.

Moulin heaved. While he waited for the numbness of his body to fade away, he watched the scenery before him patiently. Questions swirled within his mind, and he knew he wouldn't find the answer if he would just lay naked on the snowy ground. Yes, he was bare. His skin, scratched and bruised, was exposed to the coldness of the air that he paid less attention to.

Finally, when he felt that moving was bearable. He slowly rose from the snow, away from the lakeshore. His warm breaths could be seen in the air as he tried to calm himself. Moulin felt like he had been sleeping for a very long time...

The thought despaired him.

What happened afterwards? What of his friends? His family? Snow and Kier?

What of... Hadrian?

The heaviness of his emotions sank in his heart. His lips quivered as he raised his head. Breaths came out in stutters, and his eyes were layered with tears, threatening to fall.

Sorrow washed his heart, drowning him, choking him.

How long? How long... did they wait?

His fingers trembled as he covered his face, lowering his head as he sobbed.

How much time has passed?

At this question, Moulin forced himself to calm down. He wiped his tears away and clenched his hands. The memories before he died were fresh and clear in his mind. He remembered Alsander's bloodshot eyes, his brother's caring gazes, and... warm lips that pressed against his. So gentle. So comforting. So perfect.

However, now he was lost.

Moulin drew his gaze towards the vast lake before him. It was dark, black, and still. Too still.

It was as if... there was something in the water...

Moulin slightly narrowed his eyes. He inched towards the shore warily. Slowly, he stared at the still water.

Then there it was. Black, worm-like tendrils wriggling in the water. They looked alive. Dread filled Moulin's gut. Was it some sort of creature? He was relieved that he didn't immediately touch the water. What could've happened if he did?

Moulin drew back with a furrowed brows.

SPLASH!

Suddenly. A loud splash was heard.

And before Moulin could turn to look back, he felt something slimy wrap around his wrist! It was thin and dark. The youth's heart thundered. Shock and alarm filled his senses. The thing looked precisely like a slimy tentacle. Its skin was black and wet, covered with a sticky residue.