Chapter Three

Shadow Hunters

(From draft 7, 4/7/2025)

Run, some small frightened voice inside Fable’s mind screamed, but she couldn’t. Images and sounds ran through her mind, fear pulsing through her in electric waves. Reflexively, her hand went to her pendant, gripping it like a lifeline. 

She couldn’t leave without her parents—no, she wouldn’t leave without her parents. Fable quickly grabbed her father’s discarded jackknife, then ducked under the dining room table, heart pounding.

The sound of footsteps clomped upstairs.

Run, a little voice screamed inside of her.

She gripped the knife tighter and looked up at the ceiling, listening to the sound of the feet above her. Two different voices came through the ceiling. She couldn’t understand them, but they were deep and unfamiliar.

Her mind went numb. They found us.

Footsteps clomped down the stairs. Fable felt her body tense, and she looked towards the door. She couldn’t make it in time. Heart pounding, she scurried from under the table, ducking behind an island that separated the small kitchen from the living room. Crouching low, she peered out from behind the counter and watched the two darkly clad figures enter the room. She had seen those uniforms in her nightmares far too often.

The two Shadow Hunters entered the front room, cutting Fable’s path to the door off entirely. She didn’t know this house’s layout enough to know where a second door might be—if it even had one. It was just someone’s backyard garage turned into a living unit. It might not even have a back door.

The bulky man grunted something, then pointed at the front door. Fable felt her insides freeze.

The door was open.

I’m an idiot, she thought hopelessly. It had been closed when she had come home, and she left it open.

The men drew two bulky handguns and turned back into the room. Fable ducked down, trying to control her breathing. She desperately wished she had a gun of her own—instead of just her father’s knife.

“Come out, come out little girl, we won’t hurt you,” one of the men called in a thick accent that rivaled her dad’s.

“Your parents miss you,” the other man called, his voice also thick with an accsent. “We bring you to them. They will be very happy.”

“Don’t be afraid,” the deeper voice called. “Our commander wants you three at his big party. You and your parents will be his guests of honor.”

The larger man's bulky frame spun around the island's corner. Screaming, Fable threw up a frying pan just as he shot off one of his guns. The projectile pinged off of it, and Fable bolted. 

The two men shouted at each other, coordinating their moves and trapping Fable into a corner. “Don't you want to see your mommie and daddy again?” the smaller one asked.

Fable held up the knife, her heart thundering as they closed in, their guns pointed at her. 

“Where are my parents?” She couldn’t believe that she had managed to say anything. 

“Don’t worry,” the smaller man said, an oily smile crossing his face. “They are unharmed—well, maybe not unharmed, but alive.” They took a step closer.

“Stay back!” Fable shouted, her voice higher than she would have liked. Her hand holding the knife shook. She had to get out of there; she just needed an opening.

“Drop the knife like a good little girl, and you will be fine,” the smaller man cooed. 

Gritting her teeth, Fable tossed her frying pan at the smaller man. The larger man fired his gun. A sharp sting hit Fable in the side. Startled, she fell back. Electricity raced through her body, but it didn't hurt. Wasn’t it supposed to hurt? If anything, it felt like she had more energy.

Their guns were tazers. A surge of hope blossomed in Fable’s chest. They were trying to take her alive.

Ignoring the barbed tazer round lodged in her side, Fable bolted for the front door, electricity burning through her, almost sparking off of her. The smaller man jumped in front of her, holding up his taser gun. Instinct took over. With a shout of effort, Fable swung her heavily laden backpack at him. It collided with the smaller man, knocking him down. Shouldering her bag, Fable ran.

Fable raced down the long driveway, heart hammering in her chest, making sure to keep her family’s car between her and the men. 

Where do I go? She thought desperately. I need help!

The strangely lit street lamp pulsated hypnotically, nearly blinding Fable as she approached it. Something about its strange light seemed to be calling to her, beckoning her.

Her fear washed away.

“NO! Stop!” One of the men cried.

Dazed by the light, Fable glanced back at her pursuers. The larger man was racing towards her, a real gun in his hand.

She stumbled backward, her backpack bumping against the lamppost. A warmth swept over Fable’s body. She could feel it pulsing through her, filling her with a sensation she didn’t understand. She looked at her hands, her eyes widening.

She was glowing.

The intensely blue light emanating from the lamppost felt like it was pulling at Fable, calling her to it. Dreamily, Fable reached up towards the light. A loud shot from the gun went off, but Fable was no longer afraid. Just as another shot blasted out, a flash of blinding white light flared across Fable’s vision.

He was gone.

Her house was gone.

Everything was gone.

Fable was gone.