The Lurkyr is a multimedia project I've been working on. This is one of the first chapters in the story detailing the rise of Archon Gregoir. Let me know what you think.
Thick mist filled the alley, casting a protective shade, blotting out the climbing sun. The man at the end of the alley, his body haphazardly strewn on a pile of garbage, finally opened his eyes. Confused, contorted, but conscious. His bones creaked, snapped, and popped as he forced his body to stand. He felt no pain, all he felt was curious. His body, however, felt tight; confining. Examining himself, he found there were tattered rags hanging from his body, clothes? And thick leather covering his feet, boots? Walking through the mist, the moisture licking oddly against his skin, he finally found the mouth of the alley. As he approached, his skin began to feel increasingly hot. When he finally breached the mist, stepping into the crowded sidewalk and shining sun light, his skin burst into flames, yet he still felt no pain.
Before the flames could completely consume him, a powerful arm grabbed him by the throat and yanked him backwards into the alley. Stumbling, he lost his footing and slammed into the ground. The mist felt like tiny daggers against his burnt skin; not pain, however. It wasn't unpleasant, he simply felt it.
From outside the alley, he could hear excited voices. The man who grabbed him, however, was nowhere to be seen. Slowly, he got to his feet and looked around. Deeper in the mist a large black shape stood, still as a statue.
"What do you think you're doing?" the stranger asked, his voice like the rumble of an avalanche; which made sense, except he wasn't sure how he recognized the rumble of an avalanche. He felt like he should know.
"I don't know," the man rasped, his voice rough and foreign. Speech felt oddly natural. He didn't know how he knew the words, or how he understood the stranger, yet understanding was there.
"You're not a Daywalker; you need to keep away from sunlight. What is your name?"
"I don't know," the man responded. The large dark shadow shifted through the mist, coming closer to him. "Are you going to kill me?"
"You need to feed. This mist," the shadow said, gesturing the mist filling the alley, "it isn't mundane, it must be cleared. It's surrounding your essence; it is blocking your connection to your body."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you need to feed."
"How?"
"Unlike you, I can walk in the sun. I'll find something for you."
The shadow passed by him, headed towards the mouth of the alley. "What is my name?"
"We'll both soon know," the stranger responded, before disappearing into the mist.
Why do I want a name? The man thought. Everything he thought seemed to come in halves. He knew he wanted a name, knew he had one, but didn't know why or what. The man returned to his birthplace, taking a seat in the garbage. Any kind of deep thinking seemed stifled. He tried to think hard, and harder yet. But nothing. Nothing ever came. Just half answers to questions he couldn't understand.
He sat there for some time before he finally heard the stranger approach. In his arms was a small girl, kicking and thrashing, her complaints muffled and unintelligible by the stranger's large hand.
"What are you-"
"Feed."
The man wasn't sure what the stranger meant, but he approached anyway, curiosity overtaking him. The stranger genuflected and draped the girl backwards over his knee, tilting her head to expose her neck.
"What am I to feed on? Her?"
"I cannot draw blood without loosening my hold on her. Bite her, and your Hungersense will guide you."
The man got to his knees beside the girl. Her eyes darted everywhere, wild, afraid. She smelled like... it was a scent he couldn't describe. He leaned in and inhaled deeply. The scent flooded his nostrils. It was sharp, exciting, and pleasurable; he felt a stir in his abdomen, soothing warmth. "My mouth is watering. She smells very..."
"Delicious. I smell it too."
"She's just a child. Will she die if I feed on her?"
"Bite her! Your questions will be answered as soon as you feed, now do it."
The scent became stronger. It pulsed against his face in tiny puffs. He leaned in again, placing his face against the girl's neck. She began to buck stronger, strong enough to hit him in the temple with her chin. The feeling was terrible, it... hurt. And now he was upset, no, angry. He roared furiously then snapped his teeth around the little girl's neck. Something warm squirted into his mouth, it poured into it. He swallowed fiercely as it drowned his tongue and dribbled out the corner of his lips. She was no longer bucking as hard, and the man realized he was pinning her to the ground. He shook his head softly, coaxing more blood from the child. He was heaving, sucking in through his nose in sharp whiffs. His hands trembled slightly against the little girl, her body so small and fragile.
"Enough," said the stranger as he placed a hand on the man's shoulder.
The man pulled back roughly, pushing the girl away from him. Her limp body shuffled farther down the alley than he expected. His body was beginning to feel loose now, and his mind, the fog, it was lifting. The mist in the alley was receding as well, his feeding ground in shadow but his birthplace drenched in sun light. The stranger stood behind him, half in sunlight, and half in shadow.
Gregior, he remembered. He examined himself. His clothes were still tattered, but his skin was nearly completely healed. "Gregior," the man said out loud, a satisfied smile on his face.
"I was beginning to grow uncertain," the stranger said as he bowed deeply.
"Of all the Daywalkers, they sent you?" Gregior asked.
"By the time we knew where to find you, it was already past time for a night Awakening. I volunteered, Master. We could not afford further delays."
"Your diligence, as always, is appreciated. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten." In a flash, Gregior was on top of the man. With alacrity he broke arms and legs, as well as the man's spine. "You've been very helpful this day, old friend." Gregior plunged his mouth into the man's neck and, rather than drink the thick blood that oozed out, he inhaled deeply. He felt a coldness scathe the back of his throat and freeze his chest as it fanned out to cover his body. It spread over him until every inch of his body felt numb and cold.
Sirens were approaching quickly. The wall towards the back of the alley led onto a short rooftop, above which he could reach the fire escapes and through them the rooftops. He took a hesitant step into the sunlight. A smile split his lips as the warmth simply soothed the coldness that wracked him. He gathered strength in his legs and sprang upwards, grabbing the lip of the low wall. With one last glance at his friend's corpse, he fled.
