As Above (So Below)

Chapter Sixteen: Idolatry

The sun was low in the sky, leaving everything bathed in a faint yellow glow. Suguru stood in the center of what might've been a forest - now, it was nothing more than a scorched crater. The skeletons of great, towering trees were short and charred on the ground around him, leaving his eyeline wide open. He knew something was coming, but he couldn't name what. His memory was fuzzy - how had he gotten here? It felt like just a moment ago he was in the twins' cramped bedroom, kissing their foreheads and tucking them in.

In his bones, he knew he couldn't return to wherever they were.

He knew he wasn't safe for them anymore.

In the dusty distance, a figure approached, shrouded in darkness even with the fleeting blanket of the setting sun. It was tall, lithe and strong in its silhouette. Suguru felt dread grip him in its icy fingers. Every cell in his body, down the hairs rising on the back of his neck, was telling him to run. Maybe, if he went right that instant, he'd clear enough distance to escape whatever was coming for him.

In his bones, he knew it was impossible.

Some things couldn't be outrun.

He watched it approach, suddenly fighting back tears.

God, he was scared. He'd never been so afraid.

Sugru clenched his fists to stop his hands from trembling. He swallowed down his terror, leaving behind a shroud of cold indifference. He could sense that whatever (or whoever) was approaching him could smell his fear, potent and thick, in the air. He couldn't tell if the figure relished it or not. Something about the hunt seemed to be unfulfilling to it. Like this was no more than a chore.

"Who are you?" he called out, his voice cracking halfway through the sentence.

"Who are you?" The figure called back. Suguru narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the figure's features. He saw no more than he'd seen before. Something about the person felt familiar, like an old black-and-white portrait, made fuzzy and indistinguishable by time. If he could've taken a picture then, something told him the figure would be just as illegible. Was it a person, or a culmination of something? Was it even tangible? Was it nothing more than a shadow?

The figure continued its slow approach, each step quiet on the scorched earth. The seconds dragged on. Suguru resisted the urge to try and goad it into moving faster - the mounting tension was making him want to crawl out of his skin.

"What do you want?" He called out, trying to keep the tremble from his voice.

"What do you want?" The figure echoed.

"I want- I want to know who you are," Suguru retorted, cursing himself for the stammer.

"I want to know who you are," the figure responded.

"Do you know how to do anything other than echo me?" He snapped, fed up with the copy-cat routine. The figure stepped further into the dying light, revealing itself.

It was Suguru.

Suguru stared at himself, confused. Every inch of the thing in front of him was a perfect mirror, down to the swoop of his bangs and the stubborn strands that separated from them. What was he doing here? What was the purpose of all this?

The figure leaned forward, his eyes wide and beseeching, almost reproachful.

"Do you?"