“He” escapes

The faint hum of the submarine’s systems was all I could hear as I stared at the tank. Light—no, the Abyss King—floated motionless inside, his glowing eyes half-closed, as though he were in some kind of trance. But I knew better. He was never truly dormant.

It started with a crack.

A low, deep groan rippled through the hull. At first, I thought it was the submarine itself, the old metal buckling under the pressure of the deep sea. But then I saw it. Tiny fissures spread across the reinforced glass of the tank, a web of fractures that grew larger with each passing second.

“Dr. Graves!” I yelled, my voice cracking as panic set in. He was at the console, frantically typing commands into the system.

“It’s fine,” he muttered. “The containment protocols—”

The glass shattered.

The sound was deafening, like the roar of a collapsing mountain. Water exploded outwards, soaking the room, and with it came him.

Light emerged from the ruins of the tank, his upper body gleaming like polished obsidian, his lower half a mass of writhing, shimmering scales. His tail coiled and snapped like a whip, sending shards of glass flying.

Then, before my eyes, his tail began to shift.

The transformation was horrifying and mesmerizing all at once. The tail split and elongated, the scales receding to reveal sinewy legs, powerful and impossibly graceful. His feet touched the floor, water pooling around them, and he straightened to his full height.

A god. That’s what he looked like. Terrible and magnificent, a creature not meant for this world.

The room descended into chaos.

Dr. Graves stumbled back, screaming orders that no one could follow. Mira collapsed to the floor, clutching her head, her cries of agony piercing through the noise. Adrian—what was left of him—laughed hysterically, his distorted voice a chilling echo of the man he once was.

The others weren’t any better. Crew members clawed at their faces, their eyes wide and unfocused. They mumbled incoherently, some falling to their knees in a grotesque display of worship.

“Stop!” I screamed, but my voice was swallowed by the madness.

Light didn’t need to move. His presence alone was enough to unravel them. The air felt heavy, suffocating, as though the pressure of the abyss itself had invaded the submarine.

Then he turned to me.

“Look at them,” he said, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to come from everywhere at once. “Fragile minds, crumbling under the weight of truth.”

I stumbled back, my hands shaking. “What did you do to them?”

“Me?” He tilted his head, his expression mocking. “I merely exist. Their minds are too small, too weak to comprehend the infinite.”

I glanced around. Graves was now slumped against the console, his eyes vacant. Mira was curled into a ball, whispering nonsense to herself. The rest of the crew were either unconscious or too far gone to save.

“What about me?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why am I still… sane?”

He smiled, a sharp, predatory grin. “Are you?”

My heart skipped a beat. His words felt like a hook, dragging me into a sea of doubt. But I forced myself to stand tall, to meet his gaze.

“Why am I still here, Light?” I demanded, refusing to let the fear consume me. “Why am I the only one left?”

“Because,” he said, stepping closer, “you’re mine.”

The words sent a shiver down my spine. His presence was overwhelming, like a storm pressing down on me. But even as he loomed over me, his power radiating like heat from a sun, I refused to look away.

“I’m not yours,” I said through gritted teeth.

His laughter echoed through the room, rich and mocking. “You are, little pet. You’ve been mine from the moment you stepped into my domain.”

I clenched my fists, anger bubbling beneath the surface. “I’ll never bow to you.”

“Bow?” He leaned down, his face inches from mine. “I don’t need you to bow. I need you to stay. And you will, because there’s nowhere else to go.”

I wanted to scream, to fight, but he was right. The submarine was broken, the crew was lost, and I was trapped in this nightmare with him.

Light reached out, his fingers brushing against my cheek. The touch was light, almost tender, but it burned like ice.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said softly, his voice almost soothing. “This is just the beginning.”

The lights flickered, and for a moment, I thought the submarine might implode. But it didn’t. Instead, everything went eerily silent.

The crew was gone—lost to madness or worse. And I was alone with him.

“Why are you doing this?” I whispered.

“Because it’s necessary,” he replied, his glowing eyes boring into mine. “Because it’s inevitable.”

I didn’t know what he meant, but I knew one thing for certain: I couldn’t trust him. And yet, as his presence filled the room, suffocating and intoxicating all at once, I couldn’t bring myself to look away.

The Abyss King had escaped, and I was his only remaining prey.