[Supernatural meets The Boys]
Nobody is stupid enough to venture into unknown territories, except for Ilya. Don't get him wrong! He never meant to enter that mysterious village.
Fate led him there to save, or be saved.
"Peekaboo!"
Beast is a cruel c...
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The dark room became darker. Something blocked the only dim light coming from the hallway. Something or someone Ilya was dreadfully waiting for.
The big bad wolf stood silently at the door.
The silence was ever so frightening to Ilya since he stepped foot in Beast's lair. The silence sent an overwhelming sense of fear through his veins. The silence itself was worse than any creature he encountered in this cursed place.
To twist a word that was once calming into something dreadful could only be achieved after going through a trauma. And that was what Ilya experienced in a few hours, nerve-wracking traumatic events all caused by a single cruel creature—Beast.
Ilya closed his eyes and clasped his head.
Waiting. And waiting. And waiting.
No sound. No breeze. Nothing.
Then suddenly, a poke at his side startled him.
"Tag!" Beast chirped. "You're it."
When Ilya opened his eyes, all he saw was the hairy back of Beast as he ran away, giggling. Ilya swiped the sweat off his face and let out a breath of relief.
I'm alive. The boy raised an eyebrow as he remembered that he was tagged. Ain't no way I'm looking for that psycho.
Beast was getting weirder and weirder.
Moments earlier, Ilya gave up on trying to survive. However, now that Beast was the one running away, expected to be found, Ilya grabbed his flashlight and stood up, ready to explore that new area.
His big innocent eyes twinkled with determination.
"Here we go."
Then Ilya almost fell back down. His head felt heavy. Everything around him spun. His forehead throbbed with a menacing headache.
He quickly leaned on the edge of the flipped bed for support. Rubbing his temples, he shook his head to stay focused. It was getting harder to breathe. He fanned himself with the ripped fabric of his hoodie. His hairless chest glistened with sweat.
Was he finally too tired to function after all the running? No. Something bad was happening to his body.
Ilya snapped himself out of it, remembering his wrist device. He pulled his arm up and checked the numbers on the screen. The number was low, but not too low to stop him from entering that new hall, with his new-found flashlight.
I'm getting out of here, Ilya told himself. I can feel it.
Ilya's movements were slow and wobbly, yet he fought against his illness and took his first step into the darkness, guided by the light in his hand.
This hallway was different. The wind traveling through it was cold and screaming. Even the rooms were different. They were all sealed with metal doors that had a hardened glass window.
