The Hollow Gods (The Chaos Cycle #1)

Chapter 20

Chapter

Twenty

Miya

Get me out. Get me out. Get me out.

Miya repeated the words as she hurried through the tall, slick grass. Her legs barely managed to cut through the greenery as she fled, the chatter growing distant, the smell of soggy, burnt wood and the taste of cinder crumbling away. The playground was almost a kilometre from the ranch, but she ran all the way there even as her heart pounded.

Miya stumbled into the sand and nearly keeled over, heaving for air as she grasped her knees, her hands shaking with adrenaline. She closed her eyes and focused on breathing, dizzy as her lungs gradually opened, and the congestion faded away. Taking a few disoriented steps, she groped around for the swing’s chain, pulling herself into the seat as her legs all but liquefied.

Reaching into her rucksack, Miya fished around to check for her keys and discovered a bag of beef jerky—one of the many she’d bought in recent memory. She forgot that she’d sneaked one into her backpack, laughing through her sobs as she stared at it. The sight of the jerky put her at ease, reminding her of the whole reason she always returned to the playground. Tearing the bag open, Miya helped herself to its contents, wiping the tears away with her sleeve as she sniffled.

The crinkle of the bag and her occasional chuckle were the only sounds audible in the quiet of the park. The sky to the east was almost entirely dark, while a few rays of light swam above the horizon to the west. Every now and again, Miya’s breath caught in her throat when she failed to restrain her sobs, the hiccup followed by a loud, senseless cackle.

I’m losing my mind , she thought. I don’t even know what I feel.

The ambivalence was tearing her apart from the inside. She swayed back and forth, the wind against her face and the rhythmic squeak of metal gradually soothing her anxiety. Her eyes were so fixated on her own shadow in the sand that at first she didn’t notice someone was there, watching her from a short distance away. It wasn’t until she heard the crack of twigs that her instincts stirred from their slumber, warning her that she wasn’t alone. She looked up to see a shadow amidst the trees, but it was significantly taller than an animal’s. Her heart sank like lead.

“You got any more of that?” a voice called out to her—a man’s voice, gruff and brazen.

It took Miya a moment to realize he was talking about the beef jerky. She looked down and blinked at the bag to make sure, half-expecting it to be gone. When she looked back up, someone was standing at the edge of the playground, his toes perfectly lined up with the wooden curb bordering the sand.

Miya wrung the alarm back into her body; he’d moved so soundlessly, so quickly. His face was barely visible in the darkness, but his silhouette revealed that he was tall and well- built—enough to make Miya uncomfortable. His hands were shoved in his pockets as he watched her, waiting for a response.

“I—”

Suddenly, he moved to the left, circling her with slow, even steps. His eyes were still trained on her as he reached a perfect half-circle, then moved back to his original spot. He stalked to the right, repeating the same cycle once, then twice. He was prowling but nervous—a predator unsure of whether he’d chosen weak-enough prey. Unable to speak, Miya extended the bag of jerky, tilting the opening towards him.

At her gesture, he stopped, biding his time before continuing his ritual, moving left and right like a metronome. The circles drew closer, his advance measured and careful, as though he wouldn’t dare approach directly. Miya was captivated by the bizarre display, curious to see where it would end. When he was within arm’s length, he stopped in front of her, and she could finally see his face.

He looked wild, feral almost. Short, dishevelled black hair, like he’d hacked away at it himself. An angular face. Broad shoulders hidden under loose, tattered clothes—probably second-hand. Even as he tried to keep his face lowered and stay out of reach, he pulled her in like a feather in a maelstrom. She knew him from somewhere—and she was fairly sure he knew her as well. Shaken by the sudden magnetism, Miya’s heart hammered faster until she silenced it with a sharp breath.

He looked up, and for a brief moment, she caught his gaze—familiar yet otherworldly. The seconds yawned out until he tore his eyes away, reaching into the bag with a rustle that snapped Miya out of her stupor. His hand emerged with a fist full of jerky. He threw one piece into his mouth and shoved the rest into his pocket, chewing slowly as he watched her like he was trying to excavate something. When he seemed to find it, he turned to leave.

Miya shot to her feet, her own excavation not yet complete. He paused to consider her as her caution gave way to compulsion. She locked onto his eyes—dark, hungry, guarded. But as the shadows passed over his face and the moon made its first appearance, his eyes emitted a bright, eerie shine. Miya caught a flash of colour in the glow—a reddish-brown tint around his pupils, a deep mahogany she had seen only once before. And it wasn’t on a human.

Miya’s mouth dropped open as horror invaded her—horror, disbelief, and ravenous excitement. As a smile crept over her face, his eyes narrowed, his head canting like he was trying to gauge whether she’d gleaned his secret. Sensing he might flee, Miya took a step forward only for him to step back. He turned and faced her, backpedalling farther away.

“No,” he said sternly, his expression hardening.

Undeterred, Miya took another step.

“No.” He lifted his finger as though scolding a child who didn’t know to keep her fingers from the electrical sockets. While his expression remained severe, Miya could see the subtle changes—a frown that made him look displeased, a slight arch of the brow that suggested he was more confused than put-off.

“You’re the one who spoke to me first,” Miya retorted, surprised at finally hearing her own voice.

He blinked, appearing amazed that she had the nerve to talk back. She saw the corner of his mouth quirk up, his posture relaxing as he lowered his hand back into his pocket. “You’re the one who likes feeding me.”

Was that a veiled reference? The hint of playfulness in his tone suggested he knew exactly what he was implying, but Miya could tell he had no intention of staying simply because she’d amused him.

“How about some real food?” she offered, hoping he was as hungry as he looked. The ghost of a smile evaporated from his face, and Miya wondered how deep his mistrust ran.

“Why?”

She shrugged, speaking her mind. “You’re hungry.”

Unsatisfied, he asked again, “Why?”

“I’ve never tattled before.” She tossed him the bag of jerky, then unzipped her backpack and pulled out her wallet. “There’s enough in here for the both of us to eat.”

He caught the jerky with one hand, his eyes never leaving hers. “I could just take it from you,” he warned, the threat laced with an arrogance that made Miya’s lips tug for the first time in days.

She knew he’d say that, her smile widening into a triumphant grin. “Then I really might tattle.”

Reluctantly, he nodded, walking towards her and handing the package back. There were so many things Miya wanted to ask, so many questions to bombard him with, but the moment he was in front of her, close enough for her to reach out and touch him, she couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. She watched, paralyzed, as he walked past her and into the gathering night mist.

When his silhouette began to fade, he stopped, glancing over his shoulder to make sure she was still there. Not wanting to keep him waiting, Miya threw her backpack over her shoulder and rushed to join him in the field. As they ambled through the grass, she had the sense of being guided, of being led out of a maze, and of being lost and found at the same time. As the fog dissipated and they ventured out of the meadow, there was nothing but road ahead of them.