First Draft: The Shadows of Avalon

Avalon was a city of contrasts, where the old world and the new coexisted in a delicate balance. By day, it was a bustling metropolis of commerce and culture; by night, it transformed into a realm of shadows and whispers. For Aidan, this was home—a place of routine and quiet solitude.

Aidan lived a life of quiet simplicity. His job as a ship cleaner suited his need for solitude and routine. Each night, he arrived at the docks as the sun set, the sky painting the horizon in hues of orange and pink before fading into the deep blue of twilight. He preferred the calm of night, the stillness broken only by the gentle lapping of the waves against the hulls of ships.

The docks, a maze of wooden piers and steel ships, were a world unto themselves. Aidan moved through this world with practiced ease, his steps sure and silent. He was tall and lean, with dark hair that often fell into his eyes and a perpetual look of quiet contemplation. His clothes were simple—a worn coat, sturdy boots, and a cap pulled low over his brow.

As he worked, Aidan found solace in the repetitive tasks. He scrubbed the decks, polished the brass, and cleared away the detritus of the day. It was physical work, but it allowed his mind to wander, to drift to thoughts of the sea and its endless mysteries. The ocean had always been a part of him, its vastness a mirror to his own quiet depths.

Aidan’s only companion during these nocturnal hours was Gregor, the dock’s security guard. Gregor was a burly man with a gruff exterior but a heart of gold. He had been a sailor in his younger days and had stories of adventures on the high seas, tales that he would share with Aidan during their breaks.

“Evenin’, Aidan,” Gregor greeted him one night as he settled into his post. His voice was rough, like gravel, but there was a warmth to it.

Aidan nodded in acknowledgment. “Evening, Gregor.”

They sat on a crate, the night air cool and crisp. Gregor pulled out a flask and took a swig before passing it to Aidan, who accepted it with a quiet nod of thanks.

“You ever think about leaving this place?” Gregor asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Aidan shook his head. “No. I like it here. It’s peaceful.”

Gregor chuckled. “Peaceful, eh? Guess that’s one way to look at it. You’re a strange one, Aidan.”

Aidan didn’t mind the comment. He knew he was different, preferring the quiet and the routine over the chaos and excitement that others seemed to crave. He was content with his life, with the simple pleasures it afforded him.

As the night wore on, Aidan continued his work, the rhythm of his tasks a meditative process. He barely noticed the passage of time, the hours slipping by in a blur of motion and reflection. It was only when he finished his shift and the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon that he allowed himself a moment of rest.

One particular night, as Aidan was finishing up his work, he noticed something unusual. Gregor was standing by the edge of the dock, holding a sword that glowed faintly in the dim light. The blade seemed out of place in the modern setting, its cerulean glow casting eerie shadows on the ground.

Curiosity piqued, Aidan approached. “What’s that?”

Gregor looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes. “Ah, this old thing? It’s a family heirloom. Been passed down through generations. Supposed to have some kind of magic in it, though I’ve never been much for believing in that sort of thing.”

Aidan examined the sword, its ethereal glow mesmerizing. “Why bring it here?”

Gregor shrugged. “Just felt like it tonight. Sometimes it seems to react to the air around here, like it’s sensing something.”

Aidan nodded, though he didn’t press further. Gregor’s stories often bordered on the fantastical, but there was a sincerity to them that he respected. He returned to his work, the encounter lingering in his mind.

Days turned into weeks, and Aidan’s life continued in its familiar pattern. Yet, he began to notice more and more strange things at the docks. People came and went during the darkest hours, moving crates and often exchanging terse words with Gregor. Aidan, always a quiet observer, minded his own business, but the undercurrent of tension was impossible to ignore.

One night, as Aidan was cleaning the deck of a freighter, he heard raised voices coming from the end of the pier. He moved closer, keeping to the shadows, and saw a group of younger men arguing with Gregor. The situation escalated quickly, and before Aidan could intervene, one of the men shoved Gregor to the ground.

Aidan’s instincts kicked in. He stepped forward, his presence alone enough to draw the attention of the group. Gregor, struggling to get up, saw him and immediately shouted, “Aidan, walk away! This isn’t your fight!”

Aidan hesitated, his eyes locking with Gregor’s pleading gaze. Reluctantly, he stepped back, disappearing into the shadows. The men, satisfied with their display of dominance, eventually left, leaving Gregor bruised but otherwise unharmed.

Later that night, as they sat by the docks, Gregor explained. “I made a deal with one of the local gangs,” he admitted, his voice heavy with regret. “They needed a place to store their goods, away from the city’s official guard. In exchange, they promised to leave us alone.”

Aidan listened, his expression unreadable. He didn’t judge Gregor; he understood the pressures and the compromises that life sometimes demanded. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the beginning of something much larger, something that would soon draw him into its depths.

As the nights passed, Aidan found himself more attuned to the subtle shifts in the atmosphere of the docks. The air seemed thicker, the shadows darker. The menacing presence of the gangs was a constant reminder that Avalon, for all its beauty and wonder, had its share of darkness.

One evening, as Aidan prepared for his shift, he caught sight of the glowing sword once more. It lay beside Gregor, who was deep in thought. The cerulean light seemed to pulse in response to the encroaching night, a silent guardian against the growing darkness.

Suddenly, the quiet of the night was shattered by the sound of raised voices and a scuffle. Aidan peered around a stack of crates and saw two groups of men in a heated confrontation. The argument quickly escalated, and before he knew it, guns were drawn, and a shootout erupted.

Instinctively, Aidan ducked into cover behind the ship he had been cleaning. The sound of gunfire was deafening, echoing off the metal hulls and wooden docks. His heart pounded in his chest as he crouched low, trying to make sense of the chaos.

As he adjusted his position, Aidan caught sight of something strange—a single, disembodied eyeball peering at him from the darkness. His breath caught in his throat, fear sending him tumbling backward. He grabbed the first thing he could reach—a broom—and held it defensively as he rose to confront what he assumed was a gang member.

But as he jumped out, ready to defend himself, he realized the truth was far more terrifying. The eye belonged to a figure made entirely of ethereal blackness, its form shifting and swirling like smoke. It moved around him almost playfully, its eyes eerily human but slowly deteriorating into the same dark mist.

Aidan stood frozen, the broom in his hands feeling utterly inadequate. The shadowy figure circled him, its movements fluid and unsettling. For a moment, there was an almost whimsical quality to its actions, as if it were toying with him.

The tension seemed to ease, the surreal encounter almost lulling Aidan into a false sense of security. But suddenly, the entity’s demeanor changed. It lunged at Aidan with a speed and ferocity that took him by surprise. He felt a sharp pain as its claws raked across his arm, leaving a searing, icy burn.

Panic surged through Aidan, and he turned to run, the shadowy figure close behind. He stumbled through the docks, the wound on his arm throbbing with pain and fear fueling his every step. The entity pursued him relentlessly, its form shifting and flickering in the dim light.

Desperation drove Aidan to the only place he knew he could find some semblance of safety—the ship’s hold. He scrambled up the gangplank and into the vessel, slamming the door behind him. The shadows outside seemed to press against the walls, but for now, he was safe.

Panting and clutching his wounded arm, Aidan sank to the floor. The encounter had shaken him to his core, the reality of the shadows’ threat now all too clear, Aidan found himself huddled in the hold of the ship, clutching his wounded arm. The pain throbbed in time with his racing heartbeat, and his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and fears. He didn’t know how long he stayed there, the darkness around him both a comfort and a reminder of the danger lurking outside.

Time seemed to stretch and warp, and it was only the distant sound of voices and footsteps that broke through his haze of fear and exhaustion. The city’s guards had arrived, their presence marked by the authoritative clink of armor and the muted murmur of coordinated search efforts.

Aidan forced himself to his feet, the pain in his arm a sharp reminder of his encounter. He made his way out of the ship, blinking against the sudden brightness of the guards’ lanterns. They were searching the area methodically, their stern faces betraying no hint of the chaos that had unfolded.

One of the guards, a stern-looking woman with a sword at her side, noticed Aidan and approached him. “You there, what happened here?”

Aidan opened his mouth to explain, but his eyes found Gregor standing nearby, watching the proceedings with a mix of anxiety and resignation. He realized that if he told the guards everything, Gregor would lose his job, possibly even face harsher consequences for his involvement with the gangs.

Thinking quickly, Aidan swallowed his initial impulse and crafted a different story. “The gangs,” he began, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “They started coming around today. They were trying to bully us into letting them move in. When they brought out their guns, these… shadows appeared. It was like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

The guard’s eyes narrowed, skepticism etched on her face. “Shadows, you say?”

Aidan nodded, his expression earnest. “Yes, they moved like smoke, and when they attacked, it was… it was terrifying. I think they scared the gangs off.”

The guard exchanged a glance with her colleagues, then turned back to Aidan. “We’ll need to investigate further. In the meantime, you should get that arm looked at.”

Aidan nodded gratefully and stepped back, allowing the guards to continue their search. He caught Gregor’s eye and saw a mixture of relief and gratitude there. Despite the tension and the danger, they had managed to navigate the immediate crisis.

As Aidan walked away from the docks, the weight of the night’s events pressed heavily on him. The shadows were real, and they were a threat that went beyond the gangs and the usual dangers of Avalon. His life, once so quiet and predictable, had been irrevocably changed. But as he looked back at the docks, he knew he couldn’t turn away from the darkness that had begun to encroach on his world.