Page 50 of The Light Within

The street lights flickered and dimmed, taking with them the remnants of daylight. The air around them grew cold and oppressive. Every clash of shadows sent a tremble through the bridge.

“Look!”

The umbraphages twisted and undulated, their movements erratic and unpredictable. In a swift, decisive motion, Cinn’s shadow entirely engulfed one of their number, its form dissipating into wisps of dark mist.

Elliot cheered. Warm pride exploded through Julien like a sudden burst of sunlight. It apparently took twenty gendarmes to take down an umbraphage. Twenty gendarmes, or one Cinn.

His Cinn.

Taking on the umbraphages by himself, while he and Elliot stood back and watched.

But there was no time for celebration. There were still two left, and they were pissed—rearing up, ready to strike.

While his shadow defended against an incoming blow to the right, an inky, fluid tentacle lashed towards Cinn’s left, curling around his forearm. Heart skipping several beats, Julien braced, preparing to see Cinn lifted into the air and torn in two.

The umbraphage released him with a flick.

Julien hissed through his teeth. He stared at Cinn’s arm, ready to observe the flesh torn to shreds, or worse—swimming with the contaminant—but instead, he witnessed Cinn’s metal band shattering into a million pieces.

The gold fragments fell to the floor like sparkling confetti.

The umbraphages made a low rumbling noise—of satisfaction? Ofamusement?

Anger flared through Julien. Just what were they playing at, toying with them like this?

They don’t want to hurt him.

They… want him.

A horrible sinking feeling took root in Julien’s stomach.

Something was changing. A seismic shift. What started as a vibration under their feet soon rose to shake the very air. Cinn still stood, shadow at the ready, eyes black as the night, but the umbraphages ceased their attacks. An eerie, guttural hum emanated from them.

The sinking feeling grew like a weed, climbing up through him to squeeze his heart, then further up to wrap around his brain, choking it. An unmistakable sensation of melancholy washed over him. It was as if it drained away all of his colour, all ofhimself,leaving only an empty vessel.

His one remaining thought—that he held onto with absolute clarity—was that nothing mattered anymore. Not his never-ending mission for answers. Not this fight on the bridge. Certainly not his own survival.

The last fragment of light faded further, plunging them towards near darkness. The umbraphages expanded and expanded, their shadowy forms coalescing into an inky mass that surged forward, enveloping everything in its path: pavement, cars, lampposts, bodies, all swallowed into oblivion.

Elliot shouted curses and prayers. Julien felt him draw upon the weak supply of lumenmotes. A last-ditch attempt at defence.

Cinn’s shadow wavered, shrinking in on itself. His hands were by his sides, fisting the cuff of his hoodie’s sleeves in that childlike way he did when he was nervous.

Or scared.

Only moments left now—the impenetrable wall of darkness closing in with relentless certainty.

Cinn turned his head to meet Julien’s, fear etched into every line.

Some small part of Julien forced himself to react.

Julien dove towards Cinn, wrapping himself around him as the world became a swirl of darkness and dread.

eleven

Julien

Julien lay flat on his back, the rough surface beneath him pressing uncomfortably against his spine.

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