Lord of the Mysteries - Fountain of Blood (Fanfic)

Lex's heart hammered in her chest as she sprinted through the narrow, snow-clad streets, her breath ragged, steamy clouds puffing into the cold air. Every step was fueled by a single, primal instinct: run. She didn't know why. She didn't know what she was running from, only that she needed to escape. Escape from the eyes of the crowd, from the shock, the fear, the whispers that she could almost feel crawling under her skin. The sensation was nauseating. Mothers screamed as their children cried, clutching onto their sides as Lex stormed past, her dark, empty eyes absorbing all the light around her like black holes.

She barreled through the crowd, knocking over pedestrians without even noticing. Their shouts blended into a blur, the world around her morphing into an indistinct haze. She wasn't in control anymore, not of her body, not of her thoughts. Everything felt like it was spiraling—an uncontrollable wave of panic that only intensified as she ran.

Turning sharply into an alley, she finally slowed her pace, leaning against a cold, damp brick wall. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps, the frigid air stinging her lungs as she collapsed next to a garbage heap. The alley was foul, the stench of rotting food and stale urine mingling with the dense, choking humidity. The shadows here seemed alive, crawling across the grimy stone like something sentient. It felt like the world was pressing in on her, trapping her in its suffocating grip.

Lex leaned her head against the wall, trying to calm the racing thoughts in her mind. She could still hear the shrieks of those she'd passed—their fear, their horror. The burning questions that flickered in her head were almost too much to bear, but before she could settle them, a sound cut through the thick silence of the alley.

Heavy footsteps.

Her pulse quickened. She tensed, ready to run again, but a cold chill washed over her—this time it wasn't fear, but something else. Something colder, sharper. Like the feeling of a trap closing.

Lex spun around just as three policemen emerged from the misty gloom, their boots slapping the wet pavement. The air was thick with authority, a dark omen of what was to come. They stopped a few paces away, their faces grim and unreadable, but the tension was palpable. Their revolvers were drawn—shiny, threatening—and leveled at her like a warning.

"PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR, DON'T MOVE!" The leading officer's voice was hoarse, commanding, but with a barely contained edge of fear. He was younger than the others, but his hand shook slightly as he gripped his weapon. The others flanked him, fingers tight on their triggers, eyes darting between Lex and the alley's dead end.

Lex stood still for a long moment, the weight of their guns on her chest. There was no fight in her. The fight had left her when her world shattered, when her body changed, when her eyes—those eyes—turned black. All she had now was resignation.

A smile slowly spread across her face, one that was too wide, too jagged. Her black eyes glinted in the dim light, cold and lifeless.

"I give up," she said, her voice calm, far too calm. The words felt like poison in her mouth, but they were the truth.

The officers didn't hesitate. They rushed forward, hands grabbing her roughly, throwing her to the ground. The sudden force of their bodies was like a slap back to reality, a stark reminder of what she had become, what she had let herself become. Their grip on her was unyielding, sharp as they hauled her up, shackling her with cuffs that dug into her wrists. They were efficient, almost mechanical, like they had dealt with people like her before.

"Hey, lass," the older officer spoke as they began to drag her away. He was a towering man with a bloated stomach but solid, muscular arms. His gray beard was unkempt, and his eyes were sharp, filled with experience. "What happened to your eyes?"

His words sliced through the air, a simple question, but it felt like an accusation. He stared at her with a mixture of curiosity and unease, as though he knew something was wrong, but couldn't yet make sense of it. She could feel his gaze like a weight pressing on her chest.

"I drank a potion," Lex said flatly, almost bored, as though she were recounting a story she had already lived a hundred times over. She couldn't bring herself to care about the truth anymore. Not about anything.

The officer stiffened, then spun on his heel, shoving his arm in front of her to halt the others. He called over his shoulder, his voice sharp and commanding. "I'll take this one in personally."

The other two officers barely gave a glance before heading off down the alley, already discussing where they could grab a drink after their shift. Their indifferent chatter felt wrong in that moment, so casual, so out of place. The older man scoffed under his breath and shook his head before turning back to face Lex, a dark chuckle rumbling in his throat.

As he lit a cigarette, the faint glow from the tip briefly illuminated his face, casting flickering shadows across his sharp features. Lex watched as his fingers trembled slightly, his veins visible beneath the pale skin, as blood pulsed through them. Her vision sharpened with an almost predatory clarity. She could see everything—the thin, blue veins beneath his skin, the movement of blood. So much blood.

He exhaled a plume of smoke, watching her with eyes that seemed too wise, too knowing.

"What potion did you take, lass?" His voice dropped to a low, hushed tone. "And you shouldn't be so open about it. Potions like that… most folks don't even know they exist. You'll scare the shit out of them. You don't want to end up like the rest of those witches they burn for doing things like this."

He laughed again, but there was something hollow in it, a hint of amusement that didn't quite reach his eyes. His cigarette smoldered in the growing dusk.

Lex looked at the man's hands, the veins pulsing under his thick, weathered skin. Her gaze lingered on his fingers as the cigarette smoked between them. For the briefest second, she felt an overwhelming compulsion—an urge to sink her teeth into his flesh, to tear into him with the hunger gnawing at her insides.

Instead, she swallowed hard, her throat dry, and spoke in a low voice. "The potion's called Pariah. Sequence 9. But I'm not telling you how I got it. And sure, I won't be loud about it. What are you going to do with me?"

She was careful not to mention the man without eyes—the shadow who had given her the vial. She didn't want to seem insane, especially now. Her mind was already unraveling, the edges frayed, but she wasn't going to let anyone see how far gone she truly was. She needed to keep it together, keep her sanity intact.

The officer paused, his brow furrowing in thought. "That's odd," he muttered to himself. "Never heard of it."

He turned away, starting to walk, and Lex followed. She didn't have much of a choice. There was nowhere to run now.

They wound their way through alleys, avoiding the bustling streets. The officer's gait was purposeful, and Lex couldn't shake the sense that he was leading her somewhere—somewhere special. She followed in silence, her mind still buzzing from everything she had experienced, from the strange man with no eyes to the endless questions that clawed at the edges of her consciousness.

Finally, they stopped in front of a run-down corner store on 890 Serenade Boulevard. It was a dark, forgotten place, the windows cracked and the wood warped with age. The officer turned back to her, a sly grin crossing his lips. He held out a hand.

"I forgot to introduce myself," he said. "Name's Nigel. And you are?"

Lex hesitated for a moment before taking his hand, her grip firm but controlled. "Lex," she replied, her voice steady, and unusually calm.

Nigel's grin widened slightly, though his eyes never fully warmed. "Well then, Lex," he said, with a chuckle. "We've got a lot of work to do."

He pushed open the door, revealing a narrow, dimly lit room. Beyond it, a spiraling staircase descended into the dark, as if leading into the very bowels of the earth itself. The walls were stained, the air thick with the smell of damp stone, and the steps seemed to stretch down endlessly into the unknown.

"It'll take us about an hour to get there," Nigel said casually. "Follow close, and don't look at the walls. Madness has a way of finding people who stare too long."

Lex scoffed, but the warning lingered like a cold shadow. She followed, each step echoing down into the abyss