The Coming From the Shadows Series
Coming From the Shadows: Lydia
April 1912
Southampton’s air was thick with the smell of brine and distant coal; a chill wind gently blew along the quiet streets; the chill itself clung to Lydia’s skin; it was April the 10th of 1912 and while the city slumbered the silence was broken only by the cries of the gulls and the rhythmic clang of metal from the docks.
As Lydia moved, shifting her body in silent stride; her movement was effortless, graceful; her breath misting with the frigid air; she was shadowing someone – her target; Jack, a brute of a man sculpted by violence and was rising son within the Cult of the Minotaur – the same Cult that had shaped her life, and that of her sister since childhood – Jack moved with a predator’s assurance, his heavy boots echoing within the quiet street.
He paused, a hulking silhouette against the dim glow of the light; his gaze swept around, he checked the nearby alleyways; Lydia, she melted easily into the shadows, her raven-hair blending in with the darkness; her silvery-grey eyes, usually conveying an unsettling innocence, burned with a focused intensity.
Years spent honing her skills as a weapon; first for the Imperium’s grand design, but also for her father’s Cult of the Minotaur; after her escape seven-years prior; she had continued her training under her mother; she became a hunter of the Cultists that had caused her so much misery and torture throughout her childhood, even now, she still struggled with the nightmares; nightmares caused by witnessing the torture and butchering of animals or even the forced observation of torturing innocent people by her father.
All these skills she had acquired, finally came in use as she fought against the very people that seek to bring chaos and misery to others; she couldn’t allow it to continue, how many mor lives would be ruined.
When Jack was satisfied that he wasn’t being followed; he turned, and disappeared inside the confines of the dilapidated warehouse.
Lydia, moving her position observed for a moment before she made her way forwards with a run; she moved with practise ease, her lithe frame a whisper in the darkness; she scaled the brick wall with surprising agility, her boots finding purchase in the crumbling mortar; she threw herself upwards a few inches to get higher; finally, her hands reached the upper-window; she eased it open; the rusted hinges groaning in protest.
Inside, a scene unfolded that caused her to tighten her grip along the window sill.
Jack stood surrounded by a group of men; their faces grim and indistinct within the flickering light of the warehouses’ poor electrical wiring; the warehouse reeked of damp wood.
“The container is secure and ready for transport” Jack growled, his voice a gravelly rasp “I’ve reinforced the guards; no one touches it without my says-so”
A different voice; smooth and cultured cut through Jack’s gruffness “Such demonstrative caution Jack; this is unwise, it will draw unwanted attention to the…, artefact, it will more than likely pique the curiosity of those that take notice of it; perhaps, we should use a more…” He paused a moment “More understated approach, hm?; treat it as just another crate of…, exotic fruits perhaps”
The speaker was an anomaly within this den of hardened men; his tailored suit spoke of wealth and privilege; his mannerisms hinting of an aristocratic background; he was, Lydia knew, part of the Imperium though – the umbrella organisation holding the Cultists together; including the Cult of the Minotaur that had previously held such power it could dictate the Imperium itself, that was, until the events in Crete shattered their position of power.
This stranger though; she was unsure which Cultist group he represented, but his presence here spoke of it being a group that perhaps held as much influence as the Minotaur’s Cultists once did.
Lydia strained to hear more; but, a wave of nausea slammed into her, it nearly loosened her grip on the window, she felt her feet nearly come away from the wall causing her to desperately hold herself tightly against the side of the wall; the world now tilting precariously; the bile rose in her throat, she closed her eyes and forced herself to swallow hard.
This was becoming a recurring event now; this unsettling sickness, it had been plaguing her for weeks, a constant, unwelcome companion; she found herself multiple times nearly losing her grip as she now dangled precariously; she rested her head against the windowsill as she barely managed to force her arms into a position she could cling in place.
By the time she finally regained her composure; the nausea receding into a dull throb, Jack was leaving; cursing herself under breath; Lydia repositioned herself, glancing down below before letting herself carefully slide downwards, her previous graceful movements, now more sluggish and increasingly more difficult to perform.
She needed to find out what was being transported, and why.
As Lydia moved through the shadows; she observed as two men came out, they were clearly wearing uniforms of some guardsman for a ship; after a moment of observation, she could work out that there was an indicator of which ship; luckily, it would be the same she and her sister would be boarding for New York.
As the first guard waved off his companion; shouting about seeing him aboard later, addressing his companion as ‘Samuel’; Lydia moved, and she moved silently.
This was the moment to strike.
She drew a knife; as Lydia approached the unsuspecting guard, her footsteps fell silently across the ground; and with one swift and precise movement; she forced him down to the ground, moving the blade itself against his throat with her left hand, while with her right, she twisted his wrist into a position which locked his arm to the elbow, preventing him from moving “Hello there” she murmured; though, she maintained a polite tone “I want information; and you’re going to tell me” her voice, soft, almost a gentle caress; the tone contrasted sharply with the deadly glint within her gaze and the knife at his throat.
Hours later; as the morning sun began to rise; Lydia had managed to find a café that had opened far earlier than was normal; the owner of the café being an excited elderly gentleman that wanted to see the departure of one of the grandest ships to visit Southampton; Lydia sat quietly; the aroma of strong coffee mingling with the tang of the sea.
She sipped at her tea while trying to quell the lingering nausea that gnawed at her; the feeling was becoming more intense, for a moment, the world started to sway causing her to move her hand to her head for a moment before slowly repositioning her hand down, resting against her stomach as she took a deep breath; she was constantly being left off balance now.
She managed to return her focus after a moment to the book she was engrossed in; a dog-eared copy of the ‘Wreck of the Titan’ a fictional account of an unsinkable ship which met a tragic end; she had enjoyed the book since first discovering it in the library of the Smythe Estate were she had once lived, and was one of the few things she had kept with her; it had always managed to provide her some meagre escapism, it reminded of the unpredictable nature of fate.
“Lydia?”
She raised her head, looking away from the book; she saw her older twin; Elizabeth standing beside the table; Elizabeth was the complete opposite of Lydia; a shock of blonde hair, and icy-blue eyes – but, they had developed a close bond over the recent years since they reunited in Greece after years of separation.
“Elizabeth” Lydia seemed surprised for a moment “What time is it?” she queried, glancing out at the ever increasing number of people along the docks, her eyes then returned to her sister as she sat down
“Don’t worry, we aren’t laving yet” Elizabeth said gently “You loo pale” she added, Lydia simply nodded, but confirmed nothing, Elizabeth felt concern as she looked at her sisters pale complexion
Lydia remained quiet though, she wasn’t really wanting to say anything about the constant nausea she was feeling; she knew her sister needed help with what was going on, it was why she agreed to travel to New York in the first place, to help her with the Cultist; Jack
“Did you find anything out?” Elizabeth queried
Lydia returned her eyes to her sister; she wasn’t sure what to say, if she hadn’t felt that sudden surge of illness, she might have got more information, unfortunately though, she missed vital information, she shook her head after a moment “No; all I know is there is something going on the ship, not sure what”
“Well…, we’ll find out more during our journey hopefully…, and, once in New York; we can deal with Jack permanently”
Lydia slowly nodded; after a moment her eyes wandered back out of the window, she became lost in thought, so much would change if she and Elizabeth could deal with the Cultist leadership, but everything needed to be planned our with care or it would all backfire.
Written By: Westley H.
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