Elliot Kane hated sleep. At twenty-seven, he'd spent years fighting nightmares that left him drained. His tiny Chicago apartment was his safe space, filled with old books and a TV that stayed on to block out the quiet. But nothing could stop the darkness that came when he closed his eyes. That night, he crashed onto his creaky bed, exhausted from another long week. He didn't know he was about to fall into something far worse than a bad dream.
Sleep pulled him under like a heavy wave. There was nothing at first—just black, like he was drowning in ink. Then, a jolt hit him, like falling off a ladder. His eyes flew open, and he wasn't in his bed anymore.
Elliot stood in a creepy, broken-down city. Tall, twisted buildings leaned over him, their walls cracked and oozing black goo. The sky was dark, full of stormy clouds with weird green streaks. The air smelled bad, like rust and something rotten. He was still in his t-shirt and sweatpants, barefoot on cold, slimy cobblestone. His feet stung with every step, and the chill sank into his bones.
His heart raced. "This isn't real," he whispered, trying to calm himself. "It's just a dream." But it didn't feel like a dream. The pain in his feet, the cold air on his skin, the fear twisting his gut—it was all too real. He wiped his hands on his pants, thinking it was sweat, but they came away sticky with dark, oily stuff that smelled awful. His stomach turned, and he stumbled back, almost tripping on a sharp rock.
The city went on forever, a maze of ugly buildings and foggy streets. Shadows moved at the corners of his eyes, like the place was alive and watching him. He took a shaky step, then another, his bare feet hurting on the rough ground. Everything felt wrong, like he didn't belong here.
"Where am I?" he said softly, but his voice got lost in the heavy silence. No cars, no people, just the creepy sound of wind whistling through broken windows. He was alone—completely, scarily alone.
Then, a noise cut through the quiet—a low, scraping sound, like metal dragging on bone. It came from the fog ahead, thick and gray, hiding whatever was out there. Elliot froze, his heart pounding so loud he could hear it. The sound got closer, louder, joined by a heavy thud, like something huge was coming his way. His body screamed at him to run, but his legs wouldn't move. Fear glued him to the spot, cold and heavy.
The thudding stopped. For a second, it was just his quick, scared breaths. Then, the fog moved, and he saw a big shadow—too big—jerking toward him. Two red eyes glowed, staring right at him, never blinking.
Elliot ran.
His feet slapped the slimy cobblestone, pain shooting up his legs. The city seemed to twist around him, alleys closing off, buildings leaning closer like they wanted to trap him. The scraping turned into a growl, a horrible sound that made his head hurt. He didn't look back—he couldn't. Whatever was chasing him was close. He could feel it, like a weight pushing on his back, wanting him to fall.
He turned into a narrow alley, hoping to hide. The walls were covered in black mold, and the air got colder, thicker, smelling like rot. He pressed against the wall, trying to breathe quietly, but his chest was heaving. His mind was a mess, full of panic. *This isn't real. It can't be real. Wake up!* But he wasn't waking up. His hands shook, and his whole body felt like it was screaming.
The wall next to him exploded.
Rocks and dust flew everywhere, cutting his arms and face. Elliot yelled, falling backward as a monster crashed through. It was huge, taller than any person, its body a mix of gross flesh and shiny metal. Its arms were long, ending in claws that looked like sharp knives. Metal plates stuck out of its skin, moving like they were alive. Its face was just a blank bone mask with two glowing red eyes that burned into him.
Elliot's legs gave out, his whole body shaking with fear. The monster—what he'd later call an Iron Wraith—jumped at him, its claws slicing the air where he'd been. The ground cracked under its weight, and when it hit a rusty streetlamp, the metal bent like it was nothing, screeching so loud it hurt his ears. The noise was like a knife in his head, making him want to curl up and hide.
He scrambled up, his body moving before his brain could catch up. The Wraith's growl chased him as he ran through the alley, his feet slipping on the wet stone. His lungs burned, his legs felt like jelly, but he kept going. The monster was fast, its claws scratching the walls, tearing chunks of brick like they were paper. Every sound made Elliot's heart race faster, his mind full of one thought: *I'm going to die.*
Elliot wasn't brave. He wasn't strong. He was just a guy who typed numbers into a computer all day and stayed up too late watching TV. Now, he was running from a monster that shouldn't exist, in a place that felt like a nightmare but wasn't. The fear was like a heavy rock in his chest, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. He'd never felt so small, so helpless.
Up ahead, he saw a broken building, its roof caved in, full of sharp rocks and metal. Maybe he could hide there. He dove into the rubble, crawling through a small gap, ignoring the pain as glass and metal cut his hands and knees. The Wraith roared, its claws ripping at the stones behind him, sending more dust and rocks flying. Elliot's hands were bloody, his body hurt all over, but he kept crawling, desperate to get away.
He came out into a small open space, surrounded by high walls. His heart sank. It was a dead end. There was nowhere to go. The Wraith's shadow filled the entrance, its red eyes glowing through the dust. It moved slowly now, like it knew he was trapped, like it enjoyed watching him squirm.
Elliot's mind went blank with panic. He looked around, his eyes landing on a rusty metal beam sticking out of the rubble, its end sharp and jagged. It was heavy, too heavy for him to lift, but he was out of options. His hands shook as he grabbed it, his muscles burning as he dragged it toward a cracked pillar. The Wraith charged, its claws raised, ready to tear him apart.
Elliot didn't think—he just acted. He pushed the beam with all his strength, propping it against the pillar. By some miracle, the Wraith ran right into it, the sharp end stabbing into its chest. Black, stinky blood sprayed everywhere, and the monster screamed, a sound that made Elliot's ears ring. It thrashed, its claws swinging wildly, but the beam held it in place. Slowly, its red eyes faded, and it stopped moving.
Elliot fell to the ground, his body shaking, his breath coming in short gasps. His hands were bloody, his clothes torn, and his mind was a mess of fear and shock. He'd almost died. The monster's huge body loomed over him, its metal plates glinting in the dim light. He couldn't stop trembling, couldn't shake the image of those red eyes or the sound of that horrible growl. The fear clung to him, heavy and cold, like it would never let go.
He didn't know where he was or why this was happening. All he knew was that he was alive—for now. The fog swirled around him, and somewhere in the distance, another roar echoed through the city. Elliot curled up, hugging his knees, too scared to move. This wasn't a dream. It was something worse.