Moonlit

9: Sentimental Distractions

Callum gasped for air, feeling the walls close in around him as his heart raced uncontrollably. The lights hummed like a deafening roar as he rubbed his temples. The taste of Noah's lips on his own still lingered, the warmth of their bodies barely pressed against one another, and the gentle intensity of his gaze fluttered in his stomach, offering a warmth in the chilled haunting of the scarlet creature from his nightmare. But then, in a horrifying twist, Callum's beautiful warlock transformed before his eyes. Twisted muddy-red horns protruded from his stark white hair, his eyes still full of compassion, now tinged with a chilled malevolence. This combination of Noah and the creature loomed over him like a suffocating weight pressed down on him, bearing the burden of all his desires and sins, his every guilt and unspoken traumas until his chest felt tight, unable to draw in a breath of fresh air.

Just outside the closed door, echoes of the rumbling gym silenced in Callum's ears as the stillness of Noah's demonic apparition absorbed all his senses. That soft, doe gaze filled with a malice paralyzed Callum, threatening to shred him of his very soul if he didn't pull away. Callum forced his eyes shut, the couch groaned under the weight of his movements, his head pounded, while his racing heart felt it could burst from his chest. Desperation clawed at him, urging him to flee that suffocating room, to escape the relentless walls closing in around him, and the horrifying specter or Noah that stripped away every defense he had painstakingly constructed. As the door swung open, the cacophony of equipment crashed over him, and the harsh, fluorescent lights blinded him, forcing him to shield his eyes with a trembling hand.

Get out. Breath. Try again. One more time. Door. Where's the door. Outside, fresh... air.

A singular goal fueled Callum's leaden feet, driving him relentlessly towards the open expanses of the world. Noah's demonic form loomed in the shadows, his sinister smile full of warmth, blurring the lines between reality and nightmare until Callum could no longer distinguish one from the other. Ignoring the concerned murmurs from a pack of female wolves, he fixated on the haloed light streaming through the glass door. His outstretched arm strained for the elusive touch of freedom.

Destroy me...

Callum staggered at the haunting echo of Noah's voice, a chilling whisper that cut through the deafening silence in his mind.

Destroy me, like you did your mother.

The air in his lungs vanished, his chest constricted as tears stung his eyes. Memories of Noah's gentle caress danced across his skin, a stark contrast to the brutality of his words. With a surge of determination, Callum slammed open the door, unleashing a frenzied blizzard of snow that swirled around him like a vengeful storm. Each icy flake met a fiery end against his burning skin.

The skies were shrouded in somber clouds, casting a haunting glow in sporadic rays. Callum's chest strained for air, desperate for a flicker of solace amidst the oppr4essive surroundings. But there was no escape from the monstrous buildings that soared above him, a menacing fusion of gothic and modern architecture that seemed to twist and torment. Eldarion had become a suffocating prison, its sinister monoliths trapped Callum like a helpless beast on display in a circus. Every towering structure seemed to sneer and jeer, mocking his futile yearning for freedom.

Callum's heart threatened to explode in his chest, each labored breath scorched his lungs with liquid fire as he staggered against ground that seemed to quake and rupture.

Break me...

The vision of a demonic Noah clung to him, like a shadow. The warmth of his fingers was like silver as they caressed his bare arms.

Desperation clawed at Callum's insides; a relentless force urged him to flee from this suffocating campus. To escape the danger of wandering too close to sun. How long had it been since he'd felt this primal need to flee for his life, to run as though the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels? Only twice before, the first being the night his mother breathed her last breath, and then when he abandoned his pack four years later. Now, dread licked Callum's panic dewed skin, the mere allure of this mystifying warlock had shattered his defenses with brutal ease, as they had been nothing more than fragile sopping wet paper mâché. Aylin's sentimental words about the inexplorable pull of fate had stirred unwelcome thoughts within Callum- notions that bare happiness could be in his grasp, that perhaps he even deserved such an elusive state.