Eadric Valemont stood at the edge of the Covington Central Riverfront site, his boots sinking into the loose soil. Above him, Clive, the city’s towering mascot, loomed against the sky, its thirty-foot frame casting a long shadow over the construction zone. Once a harmless icon of civic pride, today it felt different—its metallic eyes fixed on him, unnerving. The air weighed heavy, as if something ancient stirred beneath the surface.
Eadric wasn’t a man prone to superstition. An engineer, his world consisted of concrete plans and measurable outcomes, not unsettling feelings. Yet an unease clung to him, impossible to shake. His fingers tightened around the rolled blueprints as though the designs could ground him in reality.
"Mr. Valemont," came a voice from behind, cutting through the silence. Ferris Bray, the lead architect, approached with slow, deliberate steps. Tall and lean, Bray’s features seemed sharp enough to cut through stone. His usual piercing gaze held a distant, glassy look. "You’re here early."
Eadric nodded, eyes drawn back to Clive’s looming figure. "Wanted to check on the final phase. Soil filling starts today. We’re close."
Bray’s lips twisted into a thin, peculiar smile. "Close."
The word hung between them, ominous. Close, but not finished. Eadric sensed a deep undercurrent in Bray’s tone, as if something unknown awaited them at the project’s conclusion. This redevelopment, lauded as a once-in-a-generation opportunity, had unearthed more than old sewer lines and street grids. Strange objects surfaced from the soil, relics wrapped in stories the crew refused to repeat. Every inch they dug into the ground, the more the city seemed to pulse with a low, almost imperceptible hum.
"They say the land’s cursed," Bray murmured, eyes scanning the site. "Long before the IRS, long before Covington—there were things buried here. Things from the stars."
Eadric frowned, attempting a laugh to break the tension. "You’re not telling me you believe in that nonsense?"
Bray didn’t respond. The silence spoke louder than any answer.
#
Nightfall found Eadric back at the site. Something gnawed at him. He’d spent years on countless projects, but none had ever left him with this sense of foreboding. Tomorrow’s ceremony would mark the completion of the soil filling, a milestone in the transformation of Covington’s riverfront. Yet it felt wrong, unfinished, like the land itself rebelled against them.
As he approached, the streets around the site remained eerily quiet. Streetlights flickered, struggling against the oppressive darkness. A familiar figure stood at the base of Clive, a cigarette’s ember glowing in the night. Kestrel Held, liaison from J.S. Held, had become Eadric’s closest ally throughout the project. Her sharp green eyes narrowed as he approached, her face framed by dark waves of hair that caught the faint wind.
"Couldn’t stay away, huh?" she asked, exhaling smoke, her voice a mix of amusement and wariness.
Eadric shook his head, glancing upward. Clive’s silhouette loomed larger than ever. "I keep thinking about what Bray said."
Kestrel raised an eyebrow. "What, the cursed ground? He’s losing it, Eadric. We’re all on edge."
"It’s more than that," Eadric replied, stepping closer. "Something’s wrong. You’ve felt it too, haven’t you? Every time we dig, it feels like the ground pushes back. Like it doesn’t want us here."
Kestrel remained quiet, her expression unreadable. She took another drag from her cigarette, then crushed it underfoot. "The crew’s been talking. They’ve found things—strange, twisted metal, stuff that shouldn’t be buried here. And last week, two workers disappeared."
His stomach tightened. "Disappeared? Why didn’t anyone tell me?"
"Because Bray’s covering it up. Says they probably left town, but no one’s heard from them. One worker swears they saw something moving in the pit."
Eadric’s pulse quickened. "Moving?"
She nodded. "Like something alive. Then they bolted. Left everything behind."
The ground rumbled beneath their feet, subtle at first, but unmistakable. Eadric’s heart raced. Kestrel swore under her breath as the vibrations grew stronger. A deep, resonant sound, like an ancient groan, echoed through the air. He looked up. Clive’s metal frame emitted a faint, sickly green light. The statue, once a benign figure, now seemed... alive.
"Run!" Kestrel grabbed his arm, but Eadric remained frozen, transfixed by the unholy glow seeping from Clive’s eyes. The air thickened, almost suffocating. In the excavation pit, the earth split wide, revealing something far more terrifying than the soil they had disturbed. Hulking and grotesque, the creature that emerged seemed part earth, part twisted metal, its form an abomination. Its eyes glowed with malevolence, locking onto them.
Eadric bolted, Kestrel at his side, as the ground behind them erupted in chaos. The creature roared, tendrils of earth and metal lashing out, destroying equipment, pulling debris into its grasp. He stumbled, feeling something cold coil around his ankle—a tendril pulling him toward the gaping pit.
Kestrel’s grip tightened as she yanked him free. "Don’t quit on me now, Valemont!"
They sprinted toward a half-constructed building, diving inside as the creature closed in. The structure groaned under the pressure, barely holding. Eadric’s breath came in ragged gasps as he pressed his back against the unfinished wall, his mind racing.
"What the hell is that thing? Why’s this happening?"
Kestrel’s gaze remained fixed on the distant form of Clive. "Bray’s known all along. He’s been feeding it. This whole project—" Her voice wavered, fear and fury mixing. "It’s a ritual. We’re the final piece."
"Feeding it? How?"
"By unearthing it. The digging, the new grids—it all opens the land, connects it. We’ve been helping this thing rise, Eadric, without even knowing."
The ground outside rumbled as the creature clawed its way closer. They couldn’t fight it. It was too massive, too ancient. Eadric’s mind raced, his engineering instincts kicking in.
"Clive," he muttered, realization dawning. "The mascot—it’s the key. It’s been drawing power, linking this thing to whatever lies below."
Kestrel’s eyes widened. "If we destroy Clive, we break the connection. Sever its power."
"But how?" Eadric asked, his heart pounding. "It’s massive, reinforced—"
"We’ve got no other choice." Kestrel’s expression hardened with resolve. "We take it down, or we die trying."
#
Together, they raced toward Clive, dodging debris and the creature’s lashing tendrils. Eadric's mind raced. This wasn’t about survival anymore; they were fighting something far larger than themselves, something older than the city itself.
With adrenaline coursing through him, he scrambled up Clive’s metallic frame, Kestrel close behind. The light from the mascot’s eyes grew fiercer, a sickly pulse that seemed to burn the air around them. They couldn’t stop. Eadric pulled a crowbar from his belt, slamming it into the alien metal with all his might. Sparks flew as the structure shuddered under the blow.
Kestrel drove her own tool into the base, a resounding crack splitting the air. The light flared, blinding, a high-pitched wail reverberating through their bones. For a moment, Eadric thought it might kill them. But he kept swinging, kept hammering until—
A final strike broke through.
There was a brilliant flash, a terrible, earth-shaking roar, and then silence. The creature vanished, its tether severed. Clive’s form crumbled, the light gone.
Eadric slumped to the ground, exhausted. Around them, the site lay in ruins. Kestrel, dirt-streaked and bruised, knelt beside him, catching her breath. The chaos had subsided, but something hung in the air—an undeniable sense of dread that refused to dissipate.
Covington had survived, but at what cost? The earth felt changed, the air electric with something new. The line between worlds had blurred, and whatever they had fought wasn’t fully gone. Eadric knew, deep down, it was only sleeping.
The tether had been severed, but the darkness would rise again.
