Chapter Text
On the streets of Robloxia City, robloxians lived oblivious to their surroundings. Most decided to ignore it, some were skeptical, and others found it hard to believe. But truth be told, occurrences involving ghouls were not merely rumors. Ghouls are a carnivorous and cannibalistic robloxianoid species that can only feed on the flesh of robloxians and other ghouls. They share the same physical appearance and intelligence as robloxians, with the main exceptions being their internal biology, mentality, and diet.
Disappearances happened every day, but the news always reported them as possible kidnappings carried out by malicious individuals. This didn’t help at all in easing people's insecurities, but it was easier to lie than to let the public know about a predator species feeding on robloxians. With predator and prey sharing the same space, knowledge of such a vulnerability would break society.
To those who knew, the world took on the colors of black and white. But for survivors, it was a world full of different shades of gray.
In a remote forest, secluded from the city, a church was home to many believers of the Spawn. Tyme and Aspen were two members of the big family that formed part of the sacred place. News of ghouls didn’t reach as far as the forest; they were no more than legends or stories to scare kids.
But Aspen was sure they existed. He loved reminding Tyme about it, whether it was a story or a rumor going around the church about ghouls taking the bodies of those sacrificed to the Spawn.
It was dumb. All those stories were dumb, blasphemous even. The Spawn wouldn’t allow such atrocious acts to be committed, especially letting devils like those exist. Aspen said such unbelievable things at times. His words were dangerous, and Tyme often found them conflicting because… there’s always truth in lies.
The moon was full tonight. Tyme walked barefoot beneath the branches of the pines, moonlight seeping through them under the starry night. Aspen was waiting for them at their favorite spot. The breeze felt extra chilly tonight, and as Tyme approached the spot, there he was. Aspen was lying down on the bundle of nightshades, staring at the stars. Tyme approached him to lie down at his side.
“Hi, Tyme.” Aspen looked at his friend beside him with a small smile.
“Good night, Aspen.” Tyme returned his greeting with kind eyes.
Here at the spot, there were no trees to block the view of the sky. Just the nightshades decorating the grass, and at the very center of the sky, the moon watched over them both. Tyme imagined it as the Spawn watching over them.
Silence was loud; only the sounds of the crickets and the small current of wind sweeping through the leaves accompanied them. They could almost hear each other’s breathing. Aspen had invited Tyme, but they doubted it was just for a relaxing session. Actually, Aspen didn’t look relaxed at all, but Tyme still gave them space, expecting their friend to speak eventually.
. . .
“Do you not believe in ghouls yet?” Aspen broke the silence. Certainly one kind of a question.
“I don't,” Tyme replied.
Aspen sat up, suddenly launching himself over his friend. Tyme was at bay. In the blink of an eye, Aspen had them pinned down to the ground, two pairs of sharp, plum-colored tentacles pointed menacingly at their skull, throat, and heart. Aspen’s hat darkened his face, but when he lifted his face to look directly at his friend. His eyes pierced fear in Tyme. Aspen’s scleras were fully black, his irises a powerful, bright purple.
“What about now?” he growled.
The change in ambiance happened way too quickly, Tyme didn’t know how to react; those eyes made them feel small, like a mouse caught in a cat’s claws, the last thing it's ever gonna see: the feline’s soul-piercing gaze. Tyme tried their best to keep eye contact and behind Aspen’s eyes, there was pain. Their friend was there, no—this had been their friend the whole time, and Tyme had been ignorant. Aspen had given them signs this whole time, through his stories, through his “false” warnings, in hopes of being noticed and accepted by his most trusted friend.
They both stood in place; no one made a move. There was no murderous intent or intention to hurt one another. Aspen had probably been expecting Tyme to cower, to run in fear of seeing their best friend turn into a monster. But that moment never came, Tyme’s shame was stronger than their fear. Of all the terrible things they had said about ghouls, how hurtful must they have been to Aspen.
As both calmed down, Tyme extended their hand carefully toward Aspen’s tentacles. In hopes of touching them, his tentacles—or whatever they were—beamed life through them, the colors flowing like blood. When they made contact with them, his tentacles began to soften, they felt very snake-like; the most notable contrast was that they were warm.
Barely above a whisper, Tyme couldn’t help but say what was on their mind.
“Beautiful.” The word was simple yet powerful; their friend truly looked beautiful like this. Tyme could feel Aspen’s gaze upon them, the ambiance suddenly taking a sorrowful twist. Aspen was crying; it made Tyme’s heart ache.
“Why do you cry?” But Tyme couldn’t help but feel guilty, knowing the answer. They had been saying such hurtful words toward their friend, of ghouls being devils, heartless vipers with no sense other than getting their fill. How much they regretted all those thoughts now. Aspen had been trying to tell them this whole time, indirectly. He was revealing such a big secret.
“Your hands are full of love.”
How scared must their friend be to reveal such a secret, expecting to be feared, with zero anticipation of being loved by the one who he cared deeply for but who also made him the saddest.
Both friends moved from their positions to sit on the grass, facing each other, averting their gazes. Once things had calmed down, Aspen spoke.
“I’m leaving Tyme, tomorrow night.” He took a breath before continuing. “Will you come with me?”
Leaving? Tyme had never thought of that, and Aspen must have known the immense meaning behind his request. “Why do you want to leave?”
“I’ve always meant those stories I told you. I joined the cult knowing robloxians are sacrificed as ghoul food here. I’ve—I’ve been eating them. It was my best shot after leaving the city, but now I can’t bring myself to continue. And—you’ve been eating them too. At our dinner tables, our companions, our family, they are no more than sacrificial pawns.”
That made no sense; it sounded preposterous inside Tyme’s head. The message didn’t seem to go through—or maybe it got more than through. Tyme’s puzzled look spoke volumes. The words felt unreal, no more than a sentence. Perhaps another made-up story, so why did Aspen look so sad?
“I’ll leave you some time alone to decide. But please… think about it. Whatever you choose, I’ll be okay with.” Aspen said as he took his leave, understanding Tyme most likely wouldn’t consider it. Grief clouded his thoughts as he took one last glance toward his friend, perhaps this could be the last time they saw each other. Tyme wouldn’t be so insensitive as to not at least say goodbye, right? Honestly… Aspen had no clue how they would live without their presence, aware that he was leaving them at a home full of wolves fooling the sheep. Maybe he wouldn’t be okay after all.
. . .
“You are past your time.” Elder Amarah, who had been waiting for Tyme, spoke dangerously. Everyone must be asleep by now.
Tyme was back at the church’s entrance; the lights were off except for the candles illuminating the altar. It was indeed late, and Tyme knew it.
“Forgive me, Elder Amarah.”
“It’s unlike you. Tell me what happened.”
…
“Aspen is taking his leave.”
There was a pause for a moment. Elder Amarah looked pensive, but not surprised, like she knew this day would come, just not this soon.
“And are you going to let him, Tyme?”
Again, more words Tyme couldn’t comprehend. What did Elder Amarah mean by that? The thought of stopping their partner had never even crossed their mind.
That was until—Amarah presented a dagger to Tyme. Their eyes widened. Kill Aspen? They could never allow themselves to do that. Never.
But their hands took the weapon.
They weren’t completely sure, but Tyme could’ve sworn they saw Elder Amarah’s lips curl into a satisfied smile.
“Go to sleep now, Tyme,” Amarah commanded.
Tyme headed to the shared dorms with the family, making no sound as they went to their bed. Sleeping was an impossible task. There was too much—how could Aspen betray the Spawn? The church? Yes, he was a ghoul. But he himself had been warning Tyme against ghouls. His story must be a lie. He frequently came up with fake stories. So what was Aspen so scared of that he needed to leave? He had also betrayed the Spawn; anyone who did that deserved punishment.
Tyme felt the dagger roam in their hands, it was shaped strangely, and when they made abrupt movements with it, they could hear liquid inside it. Could it be poison? It felt unnecessary. Maybe ghouls were harder to kill than the average robloxian, but then—that meant Amarah knew Aspen was a ghoul. They knew he had to be punished too.
. . .
The next morning, the day went on as any other. Each member did their respective tasks, and Aspen didn’t seem to be anywhere to be found at the church; it made the place feel oddly lonely. Even the sky was against Tyme today. It usually stayed clouded, but today the sun shone brightly with no clouds to block its rays. Time seemed to move more slowly too, but as always, night came eventually.
The moon was red tonight. It must be a sign from the Spawn, guiding Tyme through the forest with its light. They followed the path they were so familiar with, the place where they’d been meeting up with their friend for years. Each step hurt, but it didn’t matter because they knew what they’d do.
Aspen was there, sitting in the company of the nightshades. As soon as he saw Tyme, his eyes lit up, and he stood up with open arms.
“Tyme! You came!” Aspen seemed genuinely surprised, going to hug their friend.
Tyme hugged them back, their throat constricted by imaginary vines that prevented them from speaking. Anguish rushed through their heart, but they looked at the sky. A red Spawn was watching over them. This was it.
The dagger went through Aspen’s heart.
Aspen fell to the ground. He fought for his life, his eyes turning into a ghoul’s, but his tentacles refused to respond. Aspen tried speaking, but his words came as gurgled sounds of blood bubbling out of his throat, Tyme could hear Aspen’s ragged breathing and the grass being crushed beneath his spasms. It would be an image they would never forget, and they just stared in horror, waiting for his life to give in. Aspen looked at Tyme with burning hatred, his eyes becoming lifeless as he died.
Red decorated the grass. Today the nightshades would drink blood. Tyme knelt beside Aspen, hugging their friend’s corpse. The hug felt meaningless now. Tyme was the monster now, and they felt disgusted for giving themselves the right to cry.
Tyme lay there until Aspen’s body went cold, and his eyes grew tired. The last thing they heard before giving in was the sound of someone's footsteps.