Malphegor
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TWD: TW Ch. 10
🕑 Added 2026-01-25 19:29:31 +0000 UTCThe scrape of furniture across the floor downstairs snapped Lucien out of his thoughts. His body reacted before his mind caught up, and then his brain shifted into overdrive, running through options.
He didn't panic. Panic got you killed.
The manager's office was a death trap. They'd search it first.
His eyes swept the hallway and locked onto a room directly across from him. The door was long gone, torn off its hinges at some point. The interior was completely exposed, visible from the corridor. Empty except for scattered debris.
He grabbed his wand and pointed it at the supplies stacked beside him.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
A flick of his wrist, and everything lifted smoothly into the air.
He guided the supplies across the hallway, moving them as quickly as he could without making noise. They drifted into the empty room, settling in the far corner.
He followed, stepping carefully to avoid the broken glass littering the floor. Once inside, he pulled the Invisibility Cloak from where it had been tucked in his trunk and threw it over himself and all his supplies. He crouched in the corner, making himself as small as possible, and forced his breathing to slow.
From the hallway, the room looked exactly like what it was, abandoned.
And it was the most dangerous place to hide. Which made it the safest. Because it didn't look like a place where anyone could hide.
Lucien pressed himself against the wall. His palm was slick with sweat where it gripped his wand. The sounds from downstairs grew louder. They were coming up.
"Shit, someone's definitely been holed up here! Don't miss a goddamn corner!"
Lucien's throat tightened. He recognized that voice, the one who'd told the others to search every room.
Footsteps pounded down the hallway. Lucien heard them burst into the manager's office, followed by drawers being yanked open and furniture overturned.
"Fuck! Nothing! Just some empty water bottles!"
"What a waste of time. Come on, check the other rooms!"
The footsteps sounded again, and this time, they were coming straight toward him.
Lucien held his breath.
A shadow fell across the doorway.
The man who stepped into view was big, well over 182 centimeters tall, broad-shouldered, with a thick beard. His clothes were stained with dirt. He carried a machete in one hand.
His eyes swept the room. He was looking directly at Lucien. Or rather, directly at the spot where he was crouching. Those eyes passed over the corner, lingered for a fraction of a second, then moved on.
He hadn't seen anything. But he wasn't leaving.
The bearded man frowned, his gaze moving around the room more. He took a step inside, machete raised slightly like he was expecting trouble.
Lucien didn't move or breathe. His fingers tightened on his wand. Hidden beneath the cloak, three steel needles floated in the air in front of him, their points aimed at the doorway. He had pulled them from his supply stash the moment he heard the intruders and kept them levitating. If the man came any closer, he wouldn't hesitate. The needles would go through his throat and eyes before he could scream.
He didn't want to kill anyone. He really didn't. But this wasn't a world where wanting mattered. This was survival. And if it came down to his life or theirs, the choice was already made.
The bearded man took another step into the room and stopped. He scanned the space one last time, then spat on the floor, the glob of saliva landing disturbingly close to where Lucien was hiding.
"Fucking waste," the man muttered. "The place is stripped clean."
He turned and walked back into the hallway.
"Hey!" he called out. "This floor's empty. Let's check the third."
"You sure? I coulda sworn I saw something moving in the window earlier."
"Probably some damn kid looting," the bearded man said. "Little shit's long gone by now."
"Better be," a third voice chimed in. "If I catch him stealing from us, I'll chop his hands off and make him tell us where he hid the good stuff."
Laughter echoed in the hallway.
The footsteps moved away, heading toward the stairs.
Lucien stayed frozen. He counted to sixty in his head. Then another sixty. The sounds from upstairs were muffled but audible. After what felt like an eternity, the noise migrated back downstairs. He heard the barricade being cleared again from the other side, followed by the sound of engines starting.
The roar of motorcycles, maybe. Or trucks. Hard to tell from up here.
The engines faded into the distance.
Silence.
He still didn't move. He stayed crouched beneath the cloak, barely breathing, listening for any sign that someone had stayed behind.
Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.
Nothing.
Only then did he let the spell drop.
The three steel needles clattered to the floor. They'd been floating in front of him the entire time.
His hands were shaking. Now that the adrenaline was fading, the reality of what had almost happened hit him. He'd been seconds away from killing someone. Maybe three people. He'd been ready to do it without hesitation.
He leaned against the wall, pressing his forehead against the cool surface, and forced himself to breathe.
You didn't have to do it. They didn't find you.
But they could have. So easily.
If the bearded man had been more thorough. If he'd decided to step into the room and search it. Or if the cloak had slipped... He would've killed them. He would've had to.
The thought didn't horrify him as much as it should have. That was the worst part. He'd been prepared to do it, and some part of him knew it was the right call.
This world didn't allow for mercy. Not anymore.
Lucien pushed himself upright. His back was soaked with sweat, his shirt clinging to his skin. He pulled the cloak off and folded it, tucking it back into his trunk.
Then he sat down on the floor, surrounded by his supplies, and tried to stop shaking.
---
When he finally felt steady enough to think clearly, Lucien started taking inventory.
Not of his supplies, those were fine. But of the situation. He'd gotten complacent. That was the bottom line.
Magic had made him feel safe. The Invisibility Cloak, the Levitation Charm... it had all created an illusion of security. But today had shattered that illusion slightly.
The danger wasn't just the dead. It was the living. And the living were unpredictable, smart, and often more vicious than any walker.
He couldn't be alert twenty-four hours a day. He needed to sleep, eat, and rest. While he was unconscious, anyone could break in. That bearded bastard and his friends could've slit his throat in his sleep and taken everything he had.
He also couldn't handle everything alone. Standing guard, scavenging for supplies, practicing magic, it was too much for one person. Eventually, he'd make a mistake. And then he'd be dead. Beyond that, he had another massive problem: information.
He was operating blind. He had no idea what was happening in the city beyond his area. Were there other survivor groups? If so, where? Were they friendly or hostile? Had the military set up safe zones, or had everything collapsed?
What if the government decided to nuke Atlanta? What if some other faction started firebombing buildings to clear out walkers?
He'd have no warning.
His knowledge of the show helped, but only to a point. The story didn't start for real until Rick woke up in the hospital. Everything before that was a blind spot. Trying to survive alone sounded good in theory. Romantic, even. The lone wolf, relying on himself and his magic.
But in practice? It was suicide.
He needed a group. People he could trust to watch his back while he slept, to share the burden of survival. The problem was finding the right group.
Not just any group of survivors would work. He needed people he could predict. People whose characters he understood, and whose decisions he could anticipate.
He needed people from the story.
His mind drifted to Shane. The deputy who'd spent half a day searching for a kid he barely knew. The man who'd risked his life to keep Lucien safe, who'd been torn apart by guilt over leaving Rick's family behind.
Shane was part of Rick's group, one of the main survivors from the show, and Lucien knew their story inside and out.
That was the group he needed to join.
He'd considered other options. He wasn't stupid. There were bigger, more powerful factions in this world.
The Commonwealth, for instance. A massive community with tens of thousands of people, infrastructure, electricity, and running water. It sounded perfect. Except it wouldn't appear for years. And even if he somehow knew where to find it, getting there would require crossing half the country through walker-infested territory. Not exactly feasible for him.
Then there was the CRM. The mysterious group with helicopters and military resources. They had power, organization, and reach. They were also ruthless, secretive, and operated like a police state. He had no idea where their base was or how to contact them. And even if he did, they'd probably dissect him to figure out how his magic worked.
Hard pass.
Woodbury and the Saviors were right out. The Governor's community looked good on the surface but was rotten underneath. And Negan's group was just organized banditry with a charismatic leader.
Other unknown groups? Too risky. Just like the assholes who'd broken in today, there was no way to know what kind of people he'd be dealing with.
That left Rick's group.
They weren’t perfect. Lucien knew that from the show. They fought among themselves, made terrible decisions, and lost people constantly. There would be the holy trinity: drama, conflict, and death.
But they also had something the other groups didn't: a moral baseline. At least in the early days. They tried to do the right thing.
For a kid who needed to hide what he could do, who needed protection and stability while he learned magic, who needed people he could trust... There was no better option. And he'd already made a good impression on Shane. That was a foot in the door.
Lucien stood, brushing dust off his jeans. His hands had stopped shaking. His breathing had evened out.
Decision made.
He'd find Shane. Or rather, he'd find Rick's group once it formed. He'd integrate himself, make himself useful, and let them think he was just a scared kid who'd gotten lucky.
And while they kept him safe, he'd keep learning magic.
It wasn't a perfect plan. But in a world full of walking corpses and living monsters, perfection wasn't an option.
He'd settle for survival.
