The marsh was quieter now, but not in a way that felt safe.
No insect hum, no distant bird calls—just the wet drip of water from reed to mud, and the faint sucking sound of their boots pulling free with each step.
Ethan adjusted his grip on his sword and kept moving.
The group had agreed without much talk—they were going deeper. Not because it was smart. Because they couldn't walk away without knowing.
They followed the water's sluggish current until the reeds gave way to an open expanse of dark pools. A rotted dock jutted from the shore, its planks slick with algae. Something floated near the far post.
Lily squinted. "Is that…?"
Rowan waded forward until the water was waist-deep, then shoved the shape over. It rolled to reveal a bloated face, black veins threading out from the eyes and mouth. Human once. Now something else.
Selene knelt on the shore, hand hovering above the corpse. "It's not just infection. This is… altered. Reshaped."
The air grew heavier the farther they went. The fog wasn't natural here—it seemed to cling in deliberate coils, masking movement, swallowing sound.
Marcus stopped suddenly and pointed. "Tracks. Large ones. And—" He crouched. "—smaller ones beside them."
Ethan's stomach tightened. The smaller prints weren't human. Not even close.
The tracks led to a mound of tangled reeds and driftwood. At first glance, it looked like debris washed up by the current—until a ripple moved across its surface.
Rowan stepped forward, but Selene caught his arm. "Don't."
The mound shifted again, and this time something slid free—a pale, hairless form the size of a dog, eyes sealed shut, limbs twitching in half-formed jerks. It didn't move like it was blind. It moved like it was unfinished.
It crawled a few feet, then stilled. Another followed. And another.
Ethan swallowed hard. "They're… young."
The mound trembled once more.
Something much larger stirred beneath it, the water shivering in a wide radius.
"We should go," Marcus said, low and urgent. "Now."
But before they could move, a low, resonant sound rolled through the marsh—half growl, half breath, the kind of sound that made the air feel thinner.
The mound began to split apart.
Ethan didn't remember deciding to raise his sword, but it was in his hand when a shape rose from the water—taller than two men, hunched but massive, with dozens of thin, eel-like tendrils writhing from its back.
Its face was wrong. Too smooth. Too calm.
And it was watching them.
They backed away slowly, mud sucking at their feet. But the young ones began to stir again, crawling toward the giant as though drawn to it.
Selene's voice was barely above a whisper. "That's not a leader."
Ethan's jaw clenched. "It's a breeder."