From the shadows, a pitch-black tendril reaches out to the blue child's leg, and wraps itself around the leg tightly. It then yanks.
He reacted too late to being pulled under his feet by some unidentified tendril, scratching at the dirt floor for something to grab onto. Rocks came loose in his grip, and he was dragged off literally kicking and screaming.
A young boy stumbles into a room, with an expression that one would call worry, or intimidation. His head darted about, his raven-black hair loosely swinging, dyed purple locks moving along.
“Are we safe?” The boy asked, seemingly to no one at first. Suddenly, as if it sprouted from his back, a tall, black entity rose, extending two clawed hands from its torso, if you would even call it that. It leaked a black fluid, that seemed to shine in the light, much like ink or paint.
“I do not know. Hiding will not save us for long, but what do I know? You always run from your fears instead of facing them once and for all. It is like a skill for you, Darkreed." It grumbled, scowling. His voice sounded intimidating, like a drill sergeant, but it had the icy chill of a murderer, the coldness one would expect out of someone who knew their way around death itself.
Daniel’s face lit up for a second, only for the entity to crush his hopes. "That is not a skill to be proud of.”
Daniel frowned, continuing to look about.
“How long do you think we have…?”
“Again, I do not know. Please, save your questions for your…guests." It said, pointing a dripping black claw at a mailbox that sat across the room. The flap that was bolted to the side of the mailbox was lifted, with a blinking, white "1” written on it.
Daniel approached the mailbox and opened it, hesitantly. In it was a single white envelope.
“Huh…? What’s this…?”
Carefully, Daniel slid his finger across the flap of the envelope, tearing it open. He pulled out the letter inside…