Nightblade (Darkest night)-Chapter 190: Lucid dream

Anthony groaned weakly then grasped the dagger stuck in his side with one hand.

Small beads of sweat appeared on his brow, his eyes gleaming with a feverish light.

"There's no way this is real. This can't be real!"

His mother tilted her head slightly observing him curiously.

"What's the matter dear? You suddenly look quite pale."

Anthony snarled in pain.

" Cut the crap! You're not my mother."

He gingerly tried to move out of the bed, but in the next instant, his 'mum' grabbed his shoulders, turning him around in one fluid motion.

" Of course it's me dear, what's gotten into you?"

In one fluid motion, she forced his hand aside and forcefully yanked the kitchen knife out of his side, the sharp blade smoothly sliding out of his body with a sickening squelch.

Anthony gasped biting back a scream.

His eyes widened in shock and pain.

Just then a sharp flare of blinding white pain pierced through his side once more.

He screamed, scrambling out of the blood-stained bed with sheer willpower.

"Mum, why are you doing this?!"

His 'mum' stared at him, her eyes narrowing in confusion.

"What do you mean, dear? Is something the matter? You look pale."

He stared at her in disbelief, weakly staggering to his feet. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

" You're not my mother!" he yelled.

He weakly limped towards the door leaning heavily against the wall.

Gritting his teeth, he slowly edged around her, finally making it out of the room.

Strangely enough, she seemed unbothered.

" Where are you going dear?" she asked in a concerned tone.

" Damn it! Damn it."

He slowly made his way down the stairs, stopping in the hallway.

He craned his neck, turning back to the still-open door leading to his room.

Behind him lay a small trail of blood and bloody footsteps.

His mother's silhouette slowly came into view trailing slightly behind him.

"Where are you going, dear?" his mother's voice echoed behind him.

Anthony turned back, tenderly grabbing the blade lodged in his side.

He shuddered slightly, letting out a shaky breath, then yanked it on it.

A wave of piercing pain rolled through his side.

He let out an agonized scream, his entire body trembling from the shock of the pain.

He shakily grabbed a cloth from the spread table, holding it to his side, then staggered out the door.

A low buzzing sound reached his ears.

He momentarily stopped turning in the direction of the sound.

" Dad?"

His father smiled at him, wiping the sweat off his brow with a gloved hand.

Anthony's gaze moved to the humming lawnmower next to him, then to the man himself.

Elijah Grant was the spitting image of his son, albeit an older and more rugged version of Anthony.

His father was evidently unaware of what had been going on inside.

"What's wrong Anthony? You look slightly pale. What's the matter?"

Anthony took a step forward then stopped, before the words could form.

He glanced down at the wound in his side then looked up at his father.

" What's wrong, son?"

His father was suddenly much closer than he'd been a few moments back.

Anthony recoiled in fear staggering back several steps.

"Aren't you seeing this, Dad? " he asked, taking several steps back.

His father frowned slightly.

"What exactly am I supposed to be seeing?"

Anthony's eyes were wide in horror.

" Dad…"

His voice broke slightly, tears streaming 000down his face.000

His father inched closer.

"It's alright, son. I'm going to take good care of you," he said with a smile.

Elijah's figure blurred turning murky through the haze of tears in his eyes.

Anthony sobbed quietly then turned and ran.

He ran, doing his best to ignore the burning pain in his side.

Then he noticed it.

All around him, on the street, people slowly came to a stop, staring at him and some even pointing at him.

He ignores the stares, frantically hoping forward. The pain in his side was excruciating, agonizingly lancing through his side with every step.

The formerly empty street in front of him was suddenly filled with people rushing at him from all sides.

He desperately clawed through the crowd, frantically trying to escape, but then froze in place.

Every inch of him froze.

Multiple hands grabbed at him, lifting him into the air.

He inwardly screamed but no sound escaped his mouth.

"Please! Let me go. Let me go."

The sea of hands ferried him across the multitude of people in one continuous undulating wave.

In the crowded room, he saw men, women, young and old children, even toddlers, all staring at him with the same sweet, sickly, innocent smile.

Then suddenly they all stopped and calmly set him down.

Two familiar figures moved through the crowd,

th the old coming to a stop in front of him.

" What's the matter dear?" His father and mother asked in unison, their voice overlapping eerily.

Anthony hissed in pain, staring at them frantically with bloodshot eyes.

"I'm sorry, please, I'm sorry. Please…"

He fell to his knees sobbing loudly. An eerie silence filled the streets.

"Please…just let me go" he whispered.

In the next second, a roar of sinister dark laughter reached his ears.

" Nooo, not quiet yet. There's still so much I haven't shown you."

Anthony's eyes widened in shock.

He violently pulled away from his parents stepping back in horror.

A split second later, his father disappeared from the spot where he had been standing, appearing beside him and grabbing him in an inescapable hold.

"Don't move …" his father whispered.

Anthony gasped realizing what had happened.

Even in this profane plane of existence, his memories of his mother and father were just as he remembered them.

They were still the powerful Talented, he knew, and so their abilities still worked on him.

His entire body froze, stubbornly refusing to yield to his commands.

His parents were truly in an entirely different league.

He tried to speak but no sound came from his mouth.

He already felt faint from blood loss but the single command his father had implanted into his head kept him standing even when his entire body was on the verge of utterlybreaking down.

His father released him from his iron grip and then smiled.

" See…there's no need to run, right dear?" he asked, while turning to his mum.

" That's right dear," she said with a smile.

Then Anthony noticed the bloody kitchen knife in her hand.

He struggled violently resisting the command in his head with every ounce of strength in his entire being to no avail

" There's absolutely no need to run.

She slowly inches close, then, without warning, stabbed the knife back into his side.

In the next moment, the crowd swarmed him.

Anthony felt pain rip through his entire being, the piercing, sharp pain washing over him in waves, every part of his body. He felt himself choke on his own blood, blood streaming from his nose, ear, and mouth.

In the shadows, a dark figure lurked, with a predatory smile on its face.

It hissed its eyes narrowing in sardonic amusement and approval.

" Very well done, " it whispered.

Despite the distance, Anthony heard the whisper, the sound echoing through his mind.

" Well, are you enjoying my lucid dream? What should we try out next..." The sinister voice whispered.