The_Destiny

Lex lingered at the edge of Rose's grave long after the wind died down. The flowers he'd left looked small and helpless against the cold stone — her name carved so neat it almost mocked him.

He adjusted the collar of his coat, feeling the rough bandage tug at his ribs with every breath. One last look at her name. Then he turned away.

Halfway down the worn cemetery path, the fragment in his pocket flared hot — sharp, urgent, like a wire under his skin. He froze. The night was dead quiet except for the hum of the city beyond the gates.

Movement — a thin figure ducking behind a cracked mausoleum.

Lex's pulse kicked. Instinct said walk away. The fragment's pull said keep going.

His hand slid inside his coat, fingers brushing the rusted pipe — the same one that had seen him through debt collectors after Rose's loans turned ugly. He'd kept it close ever since. Tonight, it might keep him breathing again.

The figure staggered behind an old stone shed, mumbling to itself. Lex pressed his back to cold marble, listening — ragged breaths, broken syllables, like a prayer chewed up by madness.

He slipped out fast, pipe raised.

The man froze — a gaunt stick of a thing in a filthy security jacket, eyes sunken into bruised pits, skin stretched tight over sharp bones.

The man's mouth worked, frothing spit."Piece… give it… back… voices… can't sleep…"His fingernails scraped his own chest, drawing thin lines of blood.

Lex stepped closer. "Who are you?"

The man screamed, spittle flying — "INSIDE! TOO LOUD! SHUT UP—SHUT—"

He convulsed. Bones popped under his skin. Then he lunged.

Lex twisted aside, pipe whipping down in a sharp arc — it slammed the man's shoulder, but he barely flinched. They crashed into the side of the shed, feet skidding on wet grass.

The man's hands clawed at Lex's throat — stronger than they had any right to be. Lex slammed a knee into his gut, but he cackled, a wet, broken laugh that smelled like something long dead.

They grappled. Lex's ribs screamed where the crate had smashed him days ago. He shoved the man back, swung the pipe again — it cracked across his nose with a snap of cartilage. Blood sprayed his knuckles.

But the man kept coming, giggling, wild eyes fixed on Lex's pocket like he could see the fragment burning inside.

Lex slipped on the damp earth — the man tackled him, knees digging into his chest. Fingers clawed for Lex's face. He barely managed to twist away, boots digging for leverage.

His eyes darted — there. A half-buried shovel glinting in the weeds.

Lex snapped into motion — he headbutted the man, felt teeth crack under his forehead. The man reeled, shrieking. Lex scrambled for the shovel, wrenched it free, and brought it down hard on the man's spine.

Once. Twice. Splinters of bone, torn cloth, spit.

The man spasmed — limbs thrashing in the grass. Lex lifted the shovel again—

Too slow.

A new limb, slick and wrong, shot out from the man's back — it coiled around the shovel handle and flung it away. Metal clanged off a headstone.

Lex stumbled back, chest heaving, pipe still in his other hand.

The corpse convulsed. Flesh split like overripe fruit. Bones popped and twisted. The skull cracked wide, peeling apart into slick jaws that dripped black ichor onto the cemetery grass.

It rose — no longer a man, but something else. Spidered limbs skittered over mossy stone. Eyes gone, replaced by pits of oozing dark. It let out a shriek that made Lex's teeth hurt.

Lex clenched the pipe tighter. His breath fogged in the cold air.

I won't die here.

It lunged — too fast to dodge. Lex swung low, pipe smashing into one spindly leg. Bone cracked but didn't break. The creature raked claws across his coat — hot pain flared in his ribs. He kicked it off, grabbed the broken shovel shaft, and rammed it up under the thing's split jaw.

It screamed — high, wet, furious. Lex didn't give it time. He slammed a boot into its chest, driving it back against a grave marker. He grabbed a chunk of stone from the ground — smashed it down into the thing's skull.

Again. Again.

Ichor splashed his sleeve — acidic, burning his skin. The fragment in his pocket burned hotter than ever. He felt it flicker inside his clenched fist — the barest edge of a blade, raw and half-formed.

Lex didn't question it. He drove the jagged shadow-shard deep into the creature's throat.

It convulsed — limbs thrashing once more, then fell silent. The black ichor hissed, seeping into the earth.

Lex staggered back, pipe dropping into the grass. His chest heaved. Hands trembling. Sweat and blood dripped from his jaw.

What the actual fuck…

A slow clap echoed behind him.

Lex turned — pipe half-raised out of pure instinct.

John stood leaning against a headstone, coat collar turned up, eyes glinting with something between curiosity and amusement.

"Not bad," John said. "Didn't think you had that in you."

Lex didn't lower the pipe. His knuckles were white on the rusted grip.

John stepped forward, hands spread in mock peace. "Easy, kid. If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have bothered saving you. I'd have let you bleed out on that warehouse floor."

Lex's jaw clenched. He said nothing.

John's eyes flicked to the faint glow of the fragment in Lex's pocket. "They're going to keep coming. For that. And for you."

Lex didn't answer — his mind still thundering with adrenaline and rage.

John smirked. "Get some rest. You'll need it."

He brushed past Lex like he was already done here, boots silent on the cold, damp grass.

Lex stood alone among the headstones. Chest heaving. Pipe hanging limp at his side.

He looked back at Rose's grave — then at the thing he'd just killed, already dissolving into the soil.

The dark was still here. But so was he.