Raven's Watch: Secrets Of The Blud Diary

Chapter Two: Eyes of the Abyss

The air had grown colder, a biting chill that sent thin sheets of ice crawling along the walls and floor. The mimic, its twisted form moving with deliberate slowness, descended the stairs. Its head tilted at an unnatural angle, eyes locked on Nathan and Ranch with a predatory, bloodthirsty stare.

Ranch’s hands shook, the barrel of his gun aimed squarely at the creature. His knuckles whitened as he gritted his teeth, index finger hovering dangerously near the trigger.

“Don’t!” Nathan’s hand shot out, gripping Ranch’s arm just as the gun went off.

A deafening crack echoed through the room, followed by a blinding flash. Sparks flew as the bullet ricocheted off the walls, skimming past them like a stone on water. The room seemed to ripple with each strike before the bullet vanished into a stack of shelves.

“Normal weapons won’t work,” Nathan said through clenched teeth, the ringing in his ears near unbearable. He glanced at the mimic, which answered with a low, guttural laugh that chilled him more than the ice on the floor.

“How are we supposed to kill this thing, then?” Ranch muttered, his voice tinged with a rare note of defeat. Sweat traced the contours of his face, and his shoulders slumped under the weight of it all.

“I have an idea,” Nathan said, his hand squeezing Ranch’s shoulder. “But you need to trust me. Do exactly what I say.”

Ranch tensed beneath his grip, his entire body stiff as stone. Nathan frowned. This isn’t like him, he thought, watching Ranch’s dilated pupils and the tension etched into his face. The detective had always hated dealing with the supernatural, but this felt... deeper. Something about the way he held himself screamed of a past trauma clawing its way to the surface.

“Hey.” Nathan gave Ranch’s shoulder a gentle pat. “We’ll be at Daisy’s in no time, laughing this off. Trust me.”

Ranch hesitated, then gave a stiff nod. The tension in his shoulders eased, though not by much. But it was enough.

“Alright,” Ranch exhaled, the stress leaving his body like a wave of warmth pushing back the cold. With a reluctant glance at his pistol, he holstered it. “What’s the plan?”

Nathan gave the mimic another quick glance, then leaned in close. “I know this sounds insane, but… we need to strip down. To our underwear.”

Ranch blinked twice, his confusion deepening. “Come again?”

“Please don’t make me repeat it,” Nathan winced, hearing how ridiculous it sounded out loud.

“How exactly is that supposed to help?” Ranch’s disbelief was clear, his anxiety creeping back.

“Mimics are pseudo-intelligent. They copy their victims’ behavior. But they all share one thing—ego. A massive one.” Nathan’s eyes darted to the mimic, the memory of its eerie laugh still crawling through his mind. “If we humiliate ourselves in front of it, its guard will drop just enough for me to strike.”

Ranch stared at the floor, the thin frost catching the light as he processed the plan. He raised his eyes, the smallest flicker of determination cutting through the doubt. “Alright, I’ll trust you.”

Nathan and Ranch frantically unzipped their raincoats, letting them fall to the floor where the mist swirled and dispersed on impact. They quickly stripped off their shirts, trousers, and shoes, now standing awkwardly in nothing but their underwear.

“I didn’t realize it was this bloody cold,” Ranch’s voice quivered, teeth chattering as he rubbed his arms, trying to fight off the goosebumps spreading over his skin. “We’ll freeze to death before the mimic gets us.”

“I’d rather avoid that,” Nathan muttered through clenched teeth, pulling a handful of items from his coat. He handed Ranch a small stone engraved with a strange symbol. “Rub this five times—it’ll keep the frostbite away.”

Ranch took the stone, his brows furrowing in confusion, but he did as instructed. The stone glowed a warm red in his palm, releasing a heat that instantly made him squeeze it tighter.

By the time the mimic had finished descending the stairs, it was stalking toward them, slow and deliberate. Its abyssal eyes glistened with amusement in the flickering light, its grin widening as it watched them strip down to their undergarments.

“I hate the way it stares,” Ranch shuddered, unable to shake the feeling that its eyes were boring into his soul.

Nathan gave him a quick nod, then painfully knelt to the floor, the cold biting through his skin like needles. He bit his lip, forcing himself to keep going as he lowered into a full prostration, arms outstretched in submission.

Ranch hesitated but followed Nathan’s lead, his movements stiff as the cold gnawed at him. Soon, both of them were on the floor, their bodies prostrated before the creature, offering themselves up in an act of surrender.

The mimic’s low, guttural laugh echoed in the frozen room, the sound dripping with satisfaction. It was working.

Good, Nathan thought, his mind racing as he pressed his tongue against the frostbitten floor. He winced as the stinging cold surged through him, but he carried on. His warm saliva melted parts of the snow into the intricate symbols of a three-letter rune. As soon as he finished carving the last letter, a sudden gust of wind rushed past him.

In the blink of an eye, he found himself standing beside his prostrated body, now translucent and glowing faintly. Ethereal. The sensation was otherworldly—like drifting between reality and a dream, weightless as if suspended in a sea of clouds. Everything around him felt distant and muted, yet sharp and vivid at the same time.

His gaze snapped to the mimic. Its eyes were still locked on his physical body and Ranch, oblivious to his spectral form. Perfect. He could move freely now.

Without hesitation, Nathan sprinted toward the shelves, making for the aisle where the powders and spices were stored. He grabbed a small bottle of soda powder, the same one he’d spotted earlier.

Twisting off the cap, he knelt down and cleared a patch of frost beneath his feet. He poured the soda onto the floor, dropping a few black chippings he had picked up outside. The moment they hit the powder, small pops crackled through the air, sending shivers up Nathan’s spine.

He peeked over the aisle, watching for any sign that the mimic had noticed. But, as before, it remained fixated on its slow, deliberate path toward them, its abyssal eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure as it neared.

“Nathan,” Ranch whispered, his eyes wide with terror as the mimic loomed closer, just feet away. Nathan’s body lay motionless, giving no sign of life.

“Nathan!” Ranch’s voice cracked with fear, but there was no response. Panic set in, his heart pounding louder in his chest.

Just as he opened his mouth to shout, something dark and slimy shot out, wrapping around his neck. Ranch’s hands flew to his throat as he was lifted off the floor, the tendril tightening with every passing second.

His fingers clawed at the slick, cold flesh of the tendril, but it was impossible to grip. The harder he struggled, the more it constricted, cutting off his air.

“Please,” he gasped, barely able to choke out the word. His lungs burned as his vision blurred, black spots dancing at the edges of his sight. The mimic’s eyes bore into him, filled with a bloodthirsty hunger.

Ranch’s strength drained away, his limbs growing weaker by the second. His thoughts became scattered, flashes of his life playing out like broken memories. This is it.

Just as he was about to give in, a blinding light exploded at the corner of his vision.