Ch. 153

Ch. 153
“Coach!” I shout, leaping to my feet, my momentum bringing Perris with me.
He steps into the clearing in human form, his imposing six-foot-six frame moving with predatory grace despite the large gash across his ribs that's only partially healed. The wound pulses with faint darkness even now, black veins spreading outward from it like cracks in glass. His auburn hair is matted with blood, and his normally bronze-colored skin is wan and grayish. His copper-gold eyes, though, immediately fix on where Perris's hand still holds mine.
Before either of us can speak, Professor Bellamy follows Coach into the clearing. The professor looks worse than I've ever seen him, but by God, he’s still standing. His hands, always so sure in their movements, tremble slightly at his sides, residual magic crackling like static electricity around his fingertips.
"Professor," I whisper, the name falling from my lips like a prayer. "You’re okay."
Perris's grip on my hand loosens as I lurch forward, my battered body forgetting its injuries in the surge of adrenaline. Each step sends a lance of pain up my leg, but I barely notice. I'm moving on pure instinct now, splashing through the shallows of the swamp, mud sucking at my feet as if trying to hold me back.
Coach spots me first, his amber eyes flaring with recognition in the dim light. He breaks into a run, covering the distance between us in long, powerful strides that send ripples across the murky water. I collide with him hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs, his arms wrapping around me with protective ferocity. He lifts me clear off the ground in a crushing embrace, my feet dangling uselessly as he presses his face into my hair.
"You're alive," he breathes, his voice vibrating through his chest and into mine. "I thought—when the vault collapsed, and we couldn’t find you…."
He doesn't finish the sentence, choosing instead to capture my mouth with his. The kiss is desperate and deep, tasting of smoke and something ancient that reminds me of what he truly is beneath his human form. His hands cradle my face with impossible gentleness given their size, thumbs brushing away tears I hadn't realized were falling. I melt into him, the fear and tension of the past hours dissolving in the heat of his presence.
Professor Bellamy approaches at a more measured pace, his scholarly reserve firmly in place despite the disheveled state of his clothing and the dried blood crusted on his collar. He gives me a slight nod, mouth quirked in what might almost be a smile on anyone else. "Desdemona. Mr. Lanore," he says, his voice carrying that familiar introspective air, though I catch the relief hidden beneath it. "I see you found an... interesting path to safety."
Coach finally sets me back on my feet but keeps one arm firmly around my waist, as if afraid I might disappear if he lets go completely. His posture shifts as he takes in my appearance—the mud caking my clothes, the cuts and bruises visible on my exposed skin, the way I favor my left leg. His amber eyes narrow, nostrils flaring as he scents the air around me.
"You're hurt," he says, the words rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest. His gaze slides past me to where Perris stands at the edge of the clearing, maintaining a careful distance. "What happened here?"
"You didn't spot the big greasy sonofabitch on your way in?" Perris asks, incredulously. "Massive thing, about the size of a small house? Tentacles? Way too fucking many teeth?" He gestures expressively with hands still stained with monster ichor. "Impossible to miss, really."
Coach and Professor Bellamy exchange a dubious glance. "We saw nothing of the sort," the Professor says slowly.
"That's impossible," I say, pushing away from Coach just enough to look up into his face. "We fought it right on the shoreline behind those trees. It nearly killed us both."
Coach's fingers tighten slightly on my waist. "Show me," he says, his tone brooking no argument.
I led them back across the clearing to where the monster's massive body had collapsed, creating waves that washed over me just minutes before. Perris follows a few steps behind, his movements betraying a tension I now recognize—his fight or flight alarm bells are obviously sounding, but I can’t figure out what exactly is putting him on edge.
When we reach the spot, there's nothing. Only trampled vegetation and littered debris, disturbed by our battle, and a faint trail of inky substance leading back into the deeper waters of the swamp.
"That's..." I trail off, staring in disbelief at the empty space. "It was right here. We killed it. I drove a branch through its throat."
Professor Bellamy crouches at the water's edge, examining the dark smear with academic curiosity. His fingers hover just above the surface, not quite touching the substance. "Fascinating," he murmurs, more to himself than to us. "The residue has properties consistent with certain interdimensional entities. Quasi-physical manifestations that can transition between states of matter when threatened."
"You think it wasn't real? That’d… actually make a lot of sense," Perris asks, keeping his distance from both the water and Coach, who continues to scan the clearing with predatory focus.
"Oh, I've no doubt it was real enough to harm you," the Professor replies, standing and wiping his hands on his already ruined trousers. "But 'real' has many definitions in places like this.”
Coach's nostrils flare as he scents the air, his eyes momentarily flashing with inner fire. "There was something here," he confirms, his voice dropping to a register that reminds me of the dragon beneath the man. "The scent is... wrong. This entire swamp is. None of it is of this world. It’s good that it’s gone."
I shiver involuntarily, remembering the grotesque mishmash of different creatures that never would exist in nature, and its odd ability to tap into its prey’s thoughts, conjuring manifestations of their fears designed to drive them into its hunting ground. No, this is one particular monster I’d never heard of, either Topside or in Dusk Spire.
"What exactly happened here?" Coach asks, his eyes fixing on me with unsettling intensity.
I meet his gaze for a moment, then look away, suddenly unwilling to describe the psychological torment the creature inflicted before the physical attack. The things Perris and I went through today still need to be processed, and now seems like neither the place nor the time.
"Later," I say, wrapping my arms around myself despite the swamp's humid heat. "First, I want to know what happened with Walderon."