Seventeen Shadows

C3: The Shadows Edge

The next morning, Zander awoke with a grim determination. The previous night's horrors still haunted him, but he forced himself to push those thoughts aside. He needed to stay focused. He couldn't afford to let guilt and remorse paralyze him. There was a purpose to his actions, as terrible as it was.

He reviewed his journal, reading over the entries he had made. The act of documenting each kill had helped somewhat, providing a thin barrier between his emotions and his actions. But he knew it wouldn't be enough in the long run. He needed to become more strategic, more detached. He needed to find a way to execute the prophecy efficiently.

Zander decided to plan his next move meticulously. He spent hours researching potential victims, looking for people who lived alone or were isolated. He found a small neighborhood on the outskirts of town, a place where people rarely interacted with their neighbors. It seemed like the perfect hunting ground.

He made his way to the neighborhood that evening, dressed in dark clothing to blend into the shadows. As he walked the quiet streets, he felt a growing sense of dread. This was not who he was. He had never imagined himself capable of such deeds. But the prophecy demanded it, and his survival depended on his ability to carry out these dark acts.

Zander spotted a house with a single light on inside. He approached cautiously, peering through the window to see an elderly man sitting alone in a recliner. The man looked frail and tired, an easy target. Zander took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he had to do. He picked the lock on the back door and slipped inside, moving silently through the house.

The old man didn't notice Zander until it was too late. With a swift, brutal motion, Zander ended the man's life. He stood over the body, feeling the now-familiar wave of nausea and guilt. Three down, fourteen to go. He quickly exited the house, wiping any traces of his presence. As he walked back to his car, he tried to focus on the necessity of his actions rather than the horror of them.

Back at his home, Zander opened his journal and recorded the details of the kill. The act of writing it down helped, but he knew he was losing pieces of himself with each life he took. He wondered how long he could continue before the weight of his actions crushed him completely. He needed to find a way to manage the emotional toll.

Over the next few days, Zander continued his grim task. Each kill left him more hollow, more disconnected from the person he once was. He began to see himself as a monster, driven by an ancient curse to take innocent lives. He tried to rationalize it, telling himself that it was necessary for his survival, but the guilt gnawed at him constantly.

He became more methodical in his approach, choosing victims who were less likely to be missed or who lived on the fringes of society. Each time, he documented the kill in his journal, trying to maintain some semblance of control over his actions. But with each entry, he felt a part of his humanity slip away.

One night, after his fifth kill, Zander sat alone in his bedroom, the journal open in front of him. He stared at the pages, filled with details of the lives he had taken. He realized that he couldn't keep going like this. The emotional toll was too great. He needed to find a way to numb himself completely or he wouldn't survive the prophecy, even if he completed the task.

Zander decided to seek out something that could help him detach from his emotions. He turned to drugs and alcohol, hoping they would dull the pain and make it easier to continue. He knew it was a dangerous path, but he felt he had no other choice. As he took his first dose, he prayed it would help him get through the next twelve kills.