“Do you know the difference between a hero and a villain, Jernard?” Paronis asked as he took his boot and made a line in the wet sand between us.
Everything seemed real as I glanced around—the scent of saltwater, the waves breaking on the shore just before ebbing near my left foot. I even felt the sand squish between my toes as I took a step toward the line Paronis had made. Looking down, I realized I was barefoot—and that my feet were those of a child.
I knew that I was dreaming. Paronis had died almost a thousand years before Rhaynan and I left for Earth. Yet here I was looking up at him in his black Hannarian guard uniform, and my mind refused to allow me to wake up. Having no other choice, I decided to play things out.
“A hero has a solid moral line that guides him,” I replied, hesitating for a moment because my voice sounded childlike as well. “He can push himself to that line and get right to the edge of it—but if he crosses it, it will wreck the very core of his identity.”
“You’ve been listening for once,” Paronis laughed as he then took the flat part of his boot and smoothed the line in with the rest of the sand. “A villain however doesn’t need to worry about crossing a line he doesn’t have—that is unless he creates one by choice.”
He took several steps closer to the ocean and made another line in the sand. The waves overtook it within seconds, and he made another line. After he did this several times, I sighed and walked up to him.
“So what happened to you?” I asked, a feeling of anguish making me forget none of this was even real. “Was the wave that hit you too big, or did you just get tired of drawing that line over and over again?”
“It was both,” he replied as his eyebrows rose, and he turned his head away from me and looked out at the horizon. “I took for granted that because I was doing a lot of good that I didn’t have to maintain that line anymore. If the earthquake hadn’t happened, I might have found my way back. It was bad timing, but my choices were still—”
At that moment, he groaned in pain and grabbed his chest, collapsing face-first into the ocean. I rushed over to help him out of the water but stepped back as his body started to convulse and mutate.
“This isn’t real,” I said to myself, but my defense system wasn’t convinced as I felt a surge of energy hit my body. “Paronis is dead, and I’m on Earth. I have to wake up.”
“You stopped me,” Paronis growled as he rose up out of the water, now towering over me at almost nine feet tall. “The question now is can you stop yourself?”
The monster leaned over to where we were face-to-face, water dripping off its gold reptilian skin. Its exhale blew my hair backwards, and my heart pounded as I saw my adult reflection in its shiny black eyes. Its eyelids narrowed into a glare, and my own eyes glowed blue in terror. My best friend and mentor was gone—and replacing him was this evil creature that had killed at least a thousand of our people before I helped stop it.
“I am not you, Paronis!” I shouted at the monster’s face, angry at my own subconscious. “You hear me? I’m never going to be like you!”
The monster rose up, and for a moment it just looked down at me without making a sound. Then it smirked, and I realized it wasn’t Paronis inside it anymore.
The monster was me.
Introduction by Detective Matthew Verin
I’ve dealt with monsters before in my position, but they were always of the human variety. Last month, I met something that wasn’t human. It acted like one, and under other circumstances he probably would have fooled me just like he did everyone else.
I’ve tried to track him, but he’s learned how to cover his tracks now and destroyed all the previous evidence I had of his existence. This thing is intelligent—clever—and I have no idea what it really is or what it wants. All I know is that I have to try to stop it before it kills again, but if you’re reading this, it means I failed.
I hope one day you’ll forgive me and understand. I love you, Ashley, and I’m sorry my obsession over this has hurt you and the boys so much. That was never my intention.
Tyler and Will—I’m so proud of both of you, and I love you. Take care of your mother, and be careful who you trust. I don’t mean to scare you, but this thing may come back to
If you are someone who has the ability to do something about this, here is what I’ve learned over the past twenty-four days:
1) You are looking for what appears to be a white human male between the ages of 17-22. He uses the same first names often—Jernard, Jerry, and Simon. His last name always matches someone in the surrounding neighborhood that people know and trust. This gives him credibility as most people just assume they’re related.
2) Although he will act inept and vulnerable at times, he does this for a reason—so you will let your guard down. Don’t trust anything he tells you.
3) Bullets won’t kill him. Running him over with a truck won’t kill him. At this point, I don’t know if—
I have to go. It’s here.
Hand-written letter by Detective Matthew Verin, found in his abandoned car on October 14th, 1999—just under 114 years before the official contact date with the Hannarians. Verin was never found, and no body was ever recovered.
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