Exter

 

          A god shouldn’t have to come down to its world to do its own dirty work.

          Useless fucks, the lot of ‘em. Nothing gets done right anymore; not since that damn fool of a king died.

          The sky, as it always was on this—its—world, was an endlessly deepening shade of black.

          Exter knew it didn’t have to keep its hood up when it could barely see its own hands held directly in front of its eyes. Nevertheless, the hood was on, and it would remain on.

          I can’t allow them to even sense my presence, or else this just won’t be as fun.

          After walking stealthily through the woods for an indeterminate amount of time, Exter glimpsed its target. Poorly lain cobblestone danced an uneven twirl into the front steps of a small, unimpressive cottage. Decay was prevalent all along the exterior. The land surrounding it was barren. A blue fire burned inside, emitting smoke that traveled up and out of a chimney that was without a few of its bricks.

          It would be a waste of time to keep one’s home in good condition when you know you are about to die.

          Exter sauntered out of the woods. It allowed the darkness to become its cloak, knowing the defects inside had no reason to come around to the back of the cottage. Exter could sense them, could even see them where they sat if it wanted to. Of course, there would be no point. It would make quick work of these two.

          As Exter approached, shuffling its way along the dark, dry ground, a shape appeared from around the corner of the home. It was small; a bright white ball of fur, neatly outlined by the severe darkness all around it.

          Wonderful… a damned dog.

          The dog—no doubt thinking something along the lines of “wonderful... a damned Vupian I don’t know”—looked into Exter’s bottomless black eyes and gave a high-pitched, “YELP.”

          “Pad, shut the fuck up!” came a male voice from inside.

          Pad (what a horrible name for a dog, Exter observed) didn’t yelp again. In its place, the dog began a low-frequency growl. It was, admittedly, not very menacing.

          Exter began a slow advance on the creature. It didn’t bother to soothe the animal. No good came from soothing something before it died. No, no; that brought hope. Hope was the last thing Exter wanted. Exter relished fear. It would bathe in fear, live in it if it could.

          Slowly, Exter raised its right hand close enough to its face to make out the shape. Exter’s hand began to morph. Within its head, it took its time, crafting the hand into precisely what it wanted. Time, for Exter, could move exactly how it wanted it to. For the dog, it would seem instantaneous.

          What was now attached to the end of Exter’s arm was no longer a hand. At least, not in the traditional, Vupian sense. It would no longer be able to function as a hand should, but it did, at least, have five distinct digits. Five distinct digits made up of sharp, metal points. It would be disingenuous to call them “claws”; they were more akin to metal “hooks”. The digits were thick, each at least doubling the size of his fingers in their regular state. They were long too, extending past his knees. Around two-thirds of the way from their bases, an inward curve began, giving them their hook-like appearance. At their tips, these hooks were razor-sharp. Not much of a palm remained. To a Vupian, they would have been tremendously heavy. For Exter, it was as though they didn’t exist at all.

          Exter continued to advance toward the creature. Pad, Exter reminded itself.

          Pad’s growl only grew. He seemed to take no note of the instantaneous change to Exter’s hand. The dog refused to back down. He planted his hind legs in the ground, holding steady as the God of his world approached with malice in its eyes.

          Brave little thing. We can’t have that, can we? Exter took another step forward and picked Pad up by the scruff of its neck, using the very tips of his claws. The dog, surprised by the sudden small wave of pain, gave another “YELP” similar to moments before. He was stifled by an expectant Exter, who put its non-hook hand over Pad’s snout. It was then when Exter began to sense a fear building within the small animal.

          It kept its hand over the dog’s snout, forcefully moving the creature’s head so they were looking each other in the eyes. As soon as Pad’s eyes were locked on its own, Exter ignited within them the fire of thousands of souls it had snuffed out. This caused the dog to begin to writhe uncontrollably. It tried every possible movement it could think of to escape. All, however, was for naught. Exter contained the creature, expanding the hand covering his mouth until it could hold the dog with a closed fist. Then Exter began to morph its teeth. It held the dog right in front of its face. Exter, deliberately going one-by-one, turned each of its teeth into razor-sharp fangs. The teeth filled its mouth, more and more of them joining the fun until there was no room left to add any extra.

          The dog was horrified. It may have been mere seconds from fainting. Exter didn’t waste any time.

          Using its clawed right hand, Exter split the animal down the middle, starting just below the chin. Pad gave a startled, mewling noise. Almost immediately after, the dog was dead. Its soul, newly lifeless and perpetually terrified, found itself unwillingly being consumed by Exter. Blood rushed out of the fatal wound. It splattered Exter in the face, the rest cascading down to meet the barren ground. Guts and internal organs hung out of the animal’s belly. A small, brownish-red object fell from the dog. Swiftly, Exter caught the thing in mid-air. It held it to its face. It was Pad’s liver.

          These claws cut deep, it thought, before taking a bite. Exter savored the taste. It could feel the blood mingle within him, joining the life force of countless others. An undeniable warmth spread through Exter’s being. It opened its maw wide, unhinging it. Exter ate the rest of the liver in one swallow.

          One thing Exter didn’t always appreciate about placing itself on the mortal world: It experienced hunger, and lots of it. The rest of the dog was gone within seconds.

 

***

 

          The flames cast a warm, blue glow within the fireplace. Meera was seated in a wooden rocker, a book from times long gone within her grasp. The cover was worn, the pages faded. You could hardly make out the words on many of the pages. Still, Meera soldiered on, desperate for any knowledge she could find, out in the center of nothingness.

          Kyre watched her, entranced. No matter what she was doing, Meera always found a way to make it look like the only thing in the world that mattered. Her eyes hunted down every word at a rapid pace, thirsting more for each sentence than the last.

          She was gorgeous. Even now, when their lives had been turned inward upon themselves. Meera’s hair was a light gray, despite her young age; it was a family trait. Her eyes were a brilliant shade of green, contrasting perfectly with the shade of her hair. The rest of her features were sharp: her nose, her mouth, her eyebrows. Meera’s beauty made Kyre feel like the most ordinary man in the world in comparison, and yet, this didn’t bother him at all. It was the rest of Meera, her beauty on the inside, that made him truly fall in love with her.

          Meera’s voice lifted him from his slight trance, “I can feel your eyes in the back of my head, darling.” Her voice was soft, filled with humor. “Do you not have anything better you could give your attention to?”

          Kyre chuckled. “What else could possibly be a better use of my time in this desolate place?”

          “You could draw. It has been too long since you drew something for me, and especially too long since you’ve drawn something for yourself.”

          Kyre’s smile began to fade. “It is hard to find comfort in drawing when we are surrounded by complete darkness as far as the eye can see, with no one here to keep us company.”

          “That is precisely the reason why you should draw,” Meera said, the humor gone from her voice. “And don’t act like all is lost, you have Pad and I to keep you company.”

          Almost as if summoned, a scratching began on the door at the rear of the cottage.

          “Would you look at that, he heard you say his name and now he thinks he gets to come inside.”

          Kyre loved Pad as much as someone can love an animal, but he could be a menace whenever they let him in the house. Last time, he decided to lounge in Meera’s rocking chair. That in itself would’ve been perfectly fine, until the little devil forgot he was supposed to urinate outside, not on the nice chair and floor where Kyre would have to clean it up. The house reeked of piss for nearly a full week.

          Meera, however, was always sympathetic towards Pad, no matter how much havoc he caused. “Oh just let him in for a little bit, he’s learned his lesson by now. He can keep you company while I read.”

          Kyre shrugged and stood up. “Okay, but if he shits or pisses anywhere within these walls, it’s your ass that is cleaning it up this time, not mine.”

          He walked away before she had time to say anything contradictory.

          Pad was still leaning against the door when Kyre opened it. The dog stood there on his hind legs for a few moments. It was as if he didn’t notice the door not being there to hold him up. Then Pad fell down onto all four legs, panting with his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

          “Come on in, you little shit,” Kyre said as he gave Pad a scratch behind the ears.

          Pad didn’t react at all; he simply trotted into the house as Kyre closed the door behind him.

          Odd, Kyre thought. He always loves it when I give him a good scratch.

          The pair made their way into the living area. Meera was once again focused solely on her reading. Kyre reached down and picked Pad up, being careful not to startle him. He held his little buddy close to his chest, appreciating the warmth he radiated.

          “Let’s let Mommy read alone for a bit. Why don’t we go into the pantry and I get both of us a snack.”

          “I think that’s a great idea,” Meera agreed, never taking her eyes from the page.

          Pad seemed to agree. He began panting even harder, saliva starting to drool off of his tongue.

          Kyre carried him through the living space, past the small, cozy kitchen, and into the swinging doors that led to the pantry. Their pantry was massive, something they had to make sure of when they built this place. Kyre and Meera knew they would be here for months, even years, without the possibility of ever traveling to the nearest city for food or supplies. Because of that, the pantry was stocked to the brim. It was hard to even find space to walk from shelf to shelf. There were countless burlap sacks filled with beans, rice, wheat, and anything else that kept for long periods of time. Everything else that wouldn’t last as long, they had put in large jars and had taken to the best Fjindis preserver in all of Kithyr. The art of preserving using Fjindis had become widespread when the world darkened for good, years ago. Kyre always knew he would need it one day.

          Kyre set Pad down and grabbed the large sack that held the dog’s food. He reached in and grabbed a handful. Crouching down, Kyre held his open palm in front of Pad, who was still drooling. “Here you go, buddy. You can have some more if you eat this.”

          Pad took a step forward. He placed his nose over the food and began to sniff. He sat there for a few moments, before stepping back without taking a bite. The hunger in his eyes seemed to burn even brighter.

          “What is going on with you?” Kyre asked the dog. “You never say no to food, and I can tell you’re hungry. He pushed his hand back under Pad’s snout. Once again, Pad refused to eat.

          Kyre began to get agitated. “Just eat the fucking food, Pad. You’re not getting anything other than this. So, if you’re hungry, you better fucking eat it.”

          Pad seemed to understand. Upon another round of inspection, he seemed to deem the food alright. Pad bent his head back down, taking a nibble of some of the food.

          “That’s better,” Kyre said, the agitation gone. “You know you like this stuff.”

          Pad went in for a second bite, and Kyre began to inspect the rest of the pantry as he waited for the dog to finish. We could live here for another five years and still have plenty of provisions left over. Meera and I really thought of it all. Maybe this cottage life isn’t all that bad.

          An immense pain erupted in Kyre’s wrist, interrupting his thoughts. He let out a terrible yell. Kyre looked down. It took him a brief moment to understand what had happened. Where his hand should have been, his eyes found a stump instead. There was blood everywhere. It was flowing from his wrist. There was a puddle, thick and red, running along the wooden floor that had begun to soak into his trousers.

          Pad had barely moved at all. His bright white fur coat was sprayed all over with Kyre’s blood. His mouth was stained a dark red. The dog’s jaw was moving, crunching sounds emitting from within. Kyre was incredulous. He didn’t know whether to scream, run, fight, or a combination of all three. Before he could do any of them, Pad looked up, into Kyre’s eyes. Within, he saw something he couldn’t explain. He saw pain, suffering, tragedy, dread; every terrible thing compiled into tiny, never-ending molecules that all came together to form two entities of pure horror.

          Above it all, Kyre saw death. His death, his parents’ death, his wife’s death, and thousands of deaths before him. He saw death yet to be, death outside of time, and death that will shatter the world.

          Due to a mix of pure, unadulterated fear and his massive loss of blood, Kyre fainted, never to wake again.

 

***

 

          Exter licked its lips, savoring what remained of the two defects. It morphed back into its Vupian form. The darkness, it observed, is even blacker now. Soon it will cover all, with no magic or non-believers to stand in our way.

 

About the Author: Dalton Elwood

          I have been a writer (in the vaguest sense of the word) since I was in elementary school. I would carry a notebook around with me all day, writing simple stories about sports, schools, or (I specifically remember this one) my little sister being a brat. Ever since then, I have wanted to be an author. For years I’ve spent time writing short stories or other brief pieces of fiction. This, however, is my first attempt at writing a novel. With this novel, I am trying to craft a fantasy story, heavily influenced by dark horror themes. I take inspiration from George R.R. Martin, H.P. Lovecraft, Stephen King, and many more. Specifically, I write much like King and Martin do, not creating outlines of any kind and just, essentially, winging it. I cannot wait to see how the rest of this novel turns out.

 

To learn more about this novel check out Dalton Elwood on Instagram @DaltonJElwood