Friday the 13th: The Nocturnis Arc – 1987 Part 2 The Serpent's Shadow

 Friday the 13th: The Nocturnis Arc – 1987 

Part 2: Friday, March 13, 1987 – The Serpent's Shadow

A month had passed, and The Chromatic Alley had become a twisted testament to the Lumina Engine’s power. Its vibrant, shifting lights now pulsed with malevolent energy, casting "living" shadows that seemed to detach from walls and slither along the ground, brushing against unwary pedestrians. They left no physical mark, but a chilling, soul-deep dread, a profound sense of unseen eyes watching, and an escalating, inexplicable terror that drove many to quiet, desperate madness. The city’s already strained psyche frayed further; therapists' couches overflowed with accounts of unseen tormentors, and the asylum halls echoed with whispers of a light that burned the mind.

Detective Miles Corbin, an old-school noir gumshoe whose cynicism was as ingrained as the grime on his trench coat, had seen enough strangeness in Nocturnis to last a lifetime. But the incidents in The Chromatic Alley were different. He suspected Lewis, always Lewis, but had no tangible proof. Corbin knew of the rumors swirling around Uncle Lewis's Odd 'n Ends, tales of impossible finds and sudden fortunes that always seemed to coincide with equally sudden misfortunes for others. He'd been making discreet inquiries, asking too many questions in the right (or wrong) places.

Lewis, lounging in his overstuffed armchair, received Mammon's latest "request" through a sudden, chilling whisper that manifested from the dust motes dancing in the dim light of his shop. The Archdemon was displeased with Corbin’s meddling; it interfered with the smooth flow of despair-fueled transactions. Lewis was to "discourage" the detective. Not kill, Mammon’s whisper slithered, but break.

Lewis retrieved a small, antique pocket watch from a velvet-lined drawer. It was an unassuming thing, silver, with intricate serpent motifs on its casing. Its curse, awakened only on a Friday the 13th, was exquisite in its cruelty: when wound, it caused nearby shadows to congeal and actively stalk an individual named by the winder, feeding on their fear, never touching, but always present.

That night, as the perpetual rain intensified, Lewis meticulously wound the Serpent’s Shadow watch. He thought of Detective Corbin, currently poring over case files in his dimly lit office. Across the city, in that cramped space, Corbin’s shadow stretched, then moved. It wasn't just following him; it was mimicking, anticipating, a silent, predatory twin. Then, it would detach, slither under the door, reappear behind him, its non-existent eyes fixed on him. Hours later, the detective was found by his partner, slumped over his desk, mumbling incoherently about "living darkness" and "the chill that walks." He never returned to the force, just another casualty in Nocturnis, another testament to Uncle Lewis’s ever-deepening pact with the unseen.