Chapter 1

The flickering streetlight projected an eerie glow across the rain-slicked pavement of Shadow Creek's main street. Alex Thorn hunched his shoulders against the harsh night air, his worn leather jacket providing little shelter from the frost that seemed to permeate his very bones. He sipped from the flask concealed in his pocket, the burn of cheap whiskey a poor substitute for the warmth he genuinely desired.

Alex limped along, his piercing blue eyes darting from shadow to shadow, a behavior born of paranoia and grief. The city he'd once promised to protect suddenly felt foreign, its familiar streets twisted into a maze of dark memories and darker dread.

Alex froze when he saw a startling movement in his peripheral vision. His hand reflexively stretched for the revolver he no longer had, fingers closing on empty space. With his heart hammering, he looked down the alley alongside him, attempting to make out objects in the darkness.

Nothing. Just another optical illusion, another phantom created by his tormented imagination.

Alex took a hesitant breath and ran a hand through his short, dark hair. "Get it together, Thorn," he said to himself, his voice raspy from disuse and booze.

As he began walking again, the harsh ring of his cell phone broke through the darkness. Alex groped in his pocket while looking at the strange number on the screen.

"Thorn," he replied gruffly.

"Alex? It's John. "This is John Shaw." The voice on the other end was stiff and professional, a tone Alex recognized from his time on the force.

"John? "What going on?" Alex's free hand tightened into a fist, anticipating unpleasant news.

"There has been another one, Alex. Down by the old papermill. "I... I believe you should see this."

Alex's breath became locked in his throat. "Another what, John?" "Do not play games with me."

A deep sigh echoed through the phone. Another death. Like the others. "Like Emily and Jack."

The planet tipped on its axis. Alex slipped and landed into a neighboring wall. The rough brick scraped against his palm, the discomfort a dull contrast to the roaring in his ears.

He choked out, "I'll be there in ten," before hanging up the phone.

As Alex broke into a sprint, memories flooded him with each pounding step. Emily's giggle was as bright as summer sunshine. Jack's gap-toothed smile as he displayed his latest sketch. The horrific crack of splintered wood as their front door swung open that fateful night. The inconceivable darkness that had infiltrated their house, defying logic and reasoning.

And the screams. God, the cries.

Alex aggressively shook his head, attempting to clear the recollections. He couldn't afford to lose himself just now, not when there was a minuscule chance of finally making sense of the nightmare that had torn his life apart.

The old paper mill loomed before him, a massive silhouette against the night sky. Police lights flashed in quiet warning, flashing alternating red and blue streaks across the disintegrating facade. Alex slowed to a walk, his cop instincts taking over despite years of rust and neglect.

He examined the perimeter and noticed a group of uniformed officers at the main entrance. Crime scene tape swirled in the breeze, forming a bright yellow barrier between the normal world and whatever horror lay within.

"Alex!"

He turned to see John Shaw approaching him, the detective's tall body and clean-shaven head immediately identifiable. John's face looked stern; his usually pristine suit rumpled from a long night's work.

"Thanks for coming," John remarked, clapping Alex on the shoulder. "I know this can't be easy for you."

Alex nodded curtly and shrugged off the touch. "What have we got?"

John's jaws constricted. "A female victim in her mid-thirties. A security guy patrolling the area discovered it. There is no evident cause of death, yet... He trailed off, looking at the mill's looming entrance.

"But what, John?" Alex pressed, a cold dread sinking into the pit of his stomach.

"The shadows, Alex." They are... wrong. Just like before. You should see it for yourself."

Alex gulped hard, bracing himself. He followed John into the abandoned structure, the stink of mildew and decay filling his nose. Their footsteps boomed around the enormous space, churning up dust motes that swirled in the harsh light of portable floodlights.

Then he spotted her.

The victim was splayed on the concrete floor, limbs akimbo, as if she had been dumped from a high height. Her eyes were wide open, paralyzed with dread. But it was the shadows that captured Alex's attention, making his breath seize and his heart stutter in his chest.

They writhed and twisted about the corpse, breaking the laws of physics and light. Tendrils of inky blackness appeared to reach out to the living, only to retreat when they got too close to the floodlights' beam.

"Jesus Christ," Alex murmured as bile rose in his throat.

John stood alongside him; his jaw tight. "Do you see it too? "I'm not going crazy?"

Alex shook his head slowly, unable to take his gaze away from the nightmare scene. "You aren't crazy, John. I wish you were, but this is real. "It is happening again."

As if in reaction to his words, the shadows encircling the body seemed to pulse, becoming darker and larger. Alex lurched backwards, instinctively grasping for John's arm to pull him away.

"We need to get out of here," Alex growled. "Now."

They retreated quickly, almost knocking over a young officer on the way out. Alex inhaled the night air, attempting to shake off the sense of unearthly malevolence that clung to him like a second skin.

John ran a shaking palm over his head. "What the heck are we doing now, Alex? This is well beyond anything I've ever dealt with. The brass is going to seek answers, and I have none."

Alex stared back at the mill, his thoughts whirling. He'd spent the last three years attempting to forget, drowning his memories in a fog of drink and self-pity. Chasing the shadow demons from one small town to the next, following every lead he could find. 

Alex had purpose, determination, and beneath it all, a burning need for answers - and vengeance.

"We need to find out what's really going on in this city," Alex replied, his voice low and determined. "Whatever it takes." I will not let anyone else perish like Emily and Jack. "Not if I can help it."

John nodded, relief visible in his eyes. "So, you'll help with the investigation?"

Alex's lip curved in an unfunny smile. "Oh, I will do more than that, old friend. I'm going to track down whoever is guilty for this and make it wish it had never returned to Shadow Creek."

As if in response to his announcement, a cool wind swept through the crime scene, dimming many floodlights. For a brief while, the shadows appeared to stretch towards them, hungry and alive.

Alex straightened his shoulders and stared defiantly into the darkness. The game was on, and he would not stop until he had extracted every secret from the shadows, no matter the cost.

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