The outskirts of Cobalt City were the only place Rusty felt like he could stop squinting. In the streets and around the farms, the lights were too bright; meanwhile, the unlit and uninhabited caves were too dangerous to enter. The last time a kid wandered off and disappeared was only about a dozen light cycles ago, still fresh on everyone’s minds. The deserted lot Rusty was kicking rocks around in as he daydreamed was dusky – not that many citizens of the underground city knew what dusk even was.
Rusty’s favorite game to play by himself was jumping around between the circles the floor mushrooms sometimes formed. Some of the mushrooms were pale, with thin, lacy ridges on the bottoms of the caps, while others shone with a faint bioluminescence. Occasionally, Rusty found new kinds of mushrooms among the usual suspects. This red kind which formed an extra-perfect ring was definitely unfamiliar.
Humming to himself, Rusty hopped into the circle of little red mushrooms.
The instant his feet touched the ground, his whole body exploded into icy, unbearable pain. He didn’t hear himself scream. He didn’t feel himself hit the floor. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move - despite knowing in every fiber of his being that he was in danger. He could barely manage to open his eyes, assess the threat -
Too many eyes to count looked back at him. From all around, misshapen irises set in bloodshot sclera stared at Rusty, a cold intelligence glinting behind them.
Rusty coughed. Something scratched his throat on the way up, coppery when it reached his mouth. The next cough expelled it onto the floor. The offending object turned out to be a chunk of ice, crystallized in a perfect hexagonal form. A ribbony streak of red swirled within it. Snowflakes fell from Rusty’s eyes.
“YOU.”
Rusty whimpered. Crumpled on the ground, shaking uncontrollably, pain shooting up and down his limbs, he wished he was home. He wished he was safe. Would he ever be safe again?
“YOU WILL BRING MY WILL TO THE WORLD.”
Rusty’s throat felt tight. He yelped as something warm spurted out of his nose. One hand scrabbled at the ground as he tried to at least lift himself to his hands and knees.
“I HAVE BEEN FORGOTTEN.”
He managed to stretch one hand just outside the circle of mushrooms – instant relief in his fingers. He threw out his other arm. Get me out. I want to go home. I want to go home!
“BUT I WILL BE THE LIGHT AGAIN.”
Rusty’s leg spasmed. His head pounded. Sobbing, he dragged himself forward, agonizingly slowly.
“YOU WILL BE THE LIGHT ANEW.”
His chin brushed against a mushroom.
“WE -”
The voice cut off as Rusty managed to get out of the circle. Gasping for air, too exhausted to so much as wipe the half-frozen tears from his face, he lay on his back. The pain was gone, as were the myriad eyes. All that remained was a puddle and a circle of crushed red mushrooms.
As he made his way home on unsteady legs, a sinking feeling in his gut told Rusty that all of those eyes were still watching his every move.