The villagers were friendly, which was nice.
An older woman spotted me first—weathered face, kind eyes, gray hair tied back in a bun. She was carrying a basket of what looked like vegetables and stopped when she saw me emerge from the tree line.
"Oh, a traveler!" She set down her basket and waved me over with a warm smile. "Come, come, you must be tired. When did you arrive in the area?"
I approached with an easy smile, keeping my body language relaxed. "Just… been traveling through the forest. Got a bit lost, honestly."
She clucked her tongue sympathetically. "That forest can be treacherous if you don't know your way. Come, you look exhausted. Let me get you something to eat."
She didn't press for more details, which I appreciated. Just ushered me toward one of the larger buildings—a communal hall, she explained—and sat me down at a long wooden table with a bowl of stew and a piece of bread.
The food was simple but good. Hot and filling. I ate slowly, smiling and nodding at the other villagers who came and went. They all seemed normal. Genuinely normal. Friendly nods, casual conversations about their day, complaints about the weather or their work.
Over the next two days, I settled into a routine. The villagers gave me a small room in the communal hall—nothing fancy, just a bed and a chest—and in exchange, I helped out with various tasks around the village. Chopping wood, carrying water, helping repair a fence.
The work was easier than it would've been before—my enhanced strength made me about twice as strong as a normal person. I could chop wood faster, carry heavier loads, work longer without getting as tired. But I made sure not to show off too much. Spread the work out, took breaks, made it look natural.
The last thing I needed was people asking too many questions.
I kept that same friendly smile the whole time, chatting with the villagers, laughing at their jokes, helping out wherever I could. The work was easy enough, and the people were pleasant to be around.
But something was off.
I couldn't put my finger on it at first. Just a feeling, a nagging sense that something wasn't quite right. The village looked peaceful. The people seemed genuine. But there was something… wrong.
It was in the little things. The way conversations would stop when certain topics came up. The nervous glances people would exchange. The way the village elders would gather in small groups, speaking in hushed tones with worried expressions.
And then, on the second evening, I overheard a conversation that confirmed my suspicions.
I was carrying a bucket of water from the well, smile still in place, when I heard two men talking near the edge of the square. They were standing in the shadow of a building, voices low but not quite low enough to escape my enhanced hearing.
"…another one went missing last night."
"That's the ninth this month."
I slowed my pace, keeping my expression pleasant as I pretended to adjust my grip on the bucket.
"I know. The elders are worried. They're saying we should send someone to investigate, but no one wants to volunteer."
"Investigate what? We don't even know where they're going."
"Or what's taking them."
A pause. Then, quieter:
"Do you think it's… one of those things? From the forest?"
"Maybe. Or maybe they're just running away. Times have been hard lately."
"Nine people don't just run away in a month, Marcus. And they wouldn't leave everything behind. Their belongings, their families… and most of them were our best hunters."
"I know. I know. But what else could it be?"
The conversation trailed off, and the two men walked away, leaving me standing there with the bucket of water and my thoughts racing—though my smile never faltered.
People were disappearing.
Nine in one month. And most of them were the village's hunters—the people who knew how to fight, how to survive in the forest.
That was… concerning. Very concerning.
I spent the rest of the evening asking subtle questions with that same friendly demeanor, trying to piece together what I could without drawing too much attention to myself.
The disappearances had started about a month ago. Always at night. No signs of struggle, no screams, nothing. People would go to bed and just… never wake up. Or they'd step outside for a moment and never come back. Empty beds and cold trails. No bodies, no blood, no clues.
The elders had tried organizing search parties, but they never found anything. Just an empty forest.
Some people thought the missing villagers had run away. Others thought it was bandits, or wild animals, or something worse.
But no one knew for sure.
And everyone was scared.
I could see it in their eyes. The way they'd glance over their shoulders when walking alone. The way parents kept their children close. The way conversations would die when someone mentioned the missing.
This village was terrified.
And then, late that night, I heard something that made everything click into place.
I was lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling, my usual smile replaced by a more thoughtful expression in the darkness. My mind was churning through possibilities, trying to figure out what was happening.
I was about to give up and try to sleep when I heard voices outside. Quiet, urgent.
I sat up, focusing my hearing, my expression sharpening.
"—can't keep pretending everything's fine. People are scared."
"I know, but what do you want us to do? We've searched everywhere."
"Not everywhere. What about the cave?"
A pause.
"You mean the one past the northern ridge?"
"Yes. Some of the hunters say they've heard… sounds. Coming from inside."
"What kind of sounds?"
Another pause. Longer this time.
"Singing."
A chill ran down my spine, though my lips curved into a slight smile. Interesting.
Singing.
From a cave. With nine missing people.
"That's just superstition," the first voice said, but there was uncertainty in his tone.
"Maybe. But we should at least check. If there's even a chance…"
The voices faded as the speakers moved away, but I'd heard enough.
A cave. To the north. With singing coming from inside.
And nine people who had disappeared from the village. Nine hunters who knew how to fight.
I sat there for a moment, weighing my options with that same thoughtful smile. I could ignore this. Stay in the village, wait for the terror to reveal itself more clearly. Play it safe.
But nine people had gone missing. And if this cave was connected…
Yeah, no it was pretty obvious what I had to do.
I got out of bed and started gathering my things, that familiar easy smile returning to my face.
Time to investigate.
-----
I found the cave easily enough.
The villagers had mentioned it was past the northern ridge, and with my enhanced senses, tracking down unusual features in the landscape was straightforward. I followed the ridge line for about an hour before I spotted it—a dark opening in the rock face, half-hidden by overgrown vines and moss.
The entrance was narrow. Dark. Unwelcoming.
And from inside, faint and distant, I heard it.
Singing.
It was… beautiful. Hauntingly beautiful. A woman's voice, or something that sounded like one, weaving through the darkness like silk. The melody was soft, almost hypnotic, rising and falling in a rhythm that felt ancient. Timeless.
I tightened my grip on the sword I'd found earlier—tucked away in an old storage shed in the village, covered in dust but still sharp. The blade felt strange in my hands. Lighter than it should be, balanced in a way that seemed almost unnatural. Enchanted, probably.
I hadn't asked permission to take it. I'd just… borrowed it. I'd return it later. Maybe.
If I survived.
I kept that slight smile on my face even as I stepped into the cave, my senses on high alert.
The temperature dropped immediately. The air was damp, heavy with the smell of earth and stone. And underneath that… something else. Something rotten. Decay. And blood. Fresh blood mixed with the stench of corruption.
I moved slowly, my enhanced vision adjusting to the darkness better than normal eyes would. The cave walls glistened with moisture, and the ground was uneven, scattered with loose rocks.
The singing grew louder.
I followed the sound deeper into the cave, every instinct screaming at me to turn back. But I kept going, that smile still playing on my lips even in the darkness. One foot in front of the other. The passage twisted and turned, sloping gradually downward. The walls closed in, forcing me to move sideways in places, before opening up again into a larger chamber.
And then I saw them.
Nightmare creatures
Nine of them, scattered throughout the chamber in various positions—some crouched, others standing guard, a few prowling the perimeter. They weren't standing in neat rows. They were… waiting..
My smile faded completely as my stomach twisted.
They had been human once. I could tell from the remnants—scraps of clothing, a hunting knife still clutched in one's hand, familiar pieces of leather armor. But they weren't human anymore.
Their bodies had been warped, grotesquely transformed. Skin stretched tight over elongated limbs, bones jutting out at wrong angles. Some had extra appendages—additional arms ending in claws, or legs bent backwards like a deer's. Their faces were the worst part. Still recognizable enough to see they'd been people, but twisted. Jaws extended too far, filled with too many teeth. Eyes that glowed with pale, dead light. Skin that had turned gray and mottled, stretched so thin in places that muscle and bone showed through.
They were nightmares given flesh. Humans transformed into nightmare creatures.
And at the center of the chamber, coiled around a massive stone pillar, was the source of the singing.
The creature was massive. Easily three times my size, maybe more. Its body was serpentine, covered in slick black scales that reflected the dim light. But its head… its head was almost humanoid. Too humanoid. A woman's face, beautiful in a terrible way, with high cheekbones and full lips. Its eyes glowed faintly—pale, luminescent, like twin moons.
My smile disappeared completely, replaced by confusion and concern.
The ability to control this many people at once… it was probably awakened but what was its class?
A Tyrant? Or… no, wait. A Terror?
But that didn't make sense. First Nightmares were supposed to be awakened demons at most. That's how it worked. That's what everyone said, what my sisters had told me, what all the records showed.
So why—
I didn't have time to finish the thought.
The creature's eyes opened. Locked onto mine.
And then it smiled.
My own smile returned—sharp, almost challenging, even as confusion still churned in the back of my mind.
Whatever it was, I'd have to deal with it.
The singing stopped.
The nine monsters moved.
-----
The first one hit me like a battering ram.
I barely got my sword up in time. The creature—what had once been a man, now something with arms too long and fingers like knives—slammed into me with enough force to drive the air from my lungs. We went down hard, my back hitting stone with a crack that sent pain shooting up my spine.
Those knife-fingers came down toward my face. I twisted my head desperately, feeling them scrape against the cave floor where my head had been a heartbeat before, sending up sparks. I brought my knee up into its stomach—once, twice, three times. My enhanced strength meant each blow should have broken ribs, but the thing barely flinched.
I swung the sword wildly from my position on the ground. The blade caught it across the shoulder, biting deep. Black blood sprayed across my face, hot and reeking of rot. The creature shrieked—an inhuman, piercing sound that hurt my ears—and reared back.
I used the moment to kick it off me with both legs, my enhanced strength finally making a difference. It flew back several feet, hitting the cave wall with a satisfying crunch.
I rolled to my feet, breathing hard already.
The creature recovered impossibly fast, launching itself at me again with those blade-fingers extended. This time I was ready. I sidestepped, letting it pass, and brought the sword down in a two-handed overhead swing. The enchanted blade cleaved through its spine, and it collapsed mid-lunge.
[You have slain a Dormant Beast, Songweaver's Puppet.]
The spell announced it. But I ignored it.
No time.
Two more were already closing in from different angles—coordinated, like a pack of wolves.
The one on my left had been a woman once. Her spine was curved at an impossible angle, forcing her upper body almost parallel to the ground. Her head was tilted ninety degrees sideways, jaw unhinged to reveal three rows of needle-thin teeth that glistened with black saliva.
The one on my right moved on all fours like an animal, its limbs bent wrong, bones visible through torn skin. Its face had elongated into something resembling a wolf's snout, but worse—more teeth, more wrong.
I swung at the woman first. She twisted with inhuman flexibility, my blade passing through empty air. Those needle teeth snapped at my arm. I barely jerked back in time, feeling them click together inches from my skin.
The wolf-thing lunged simultaneously. I couldn't dodge both. Its jaws clamped onto my left calf like a vice.
Pain exploded up my leg—white-hot and blinding. I screamed, feeling those teeth punch through muscle, scrape against bone. It started thrashing its head, trying to tear the meat from my leg.
I drove the pommel of the sword down onto its skull with all my enhanced strength. Once. Twice. The bone cracked. Three times. Four. Finally, it released with a wet snarl, stumbling back with its skull caved in on one side.
But the woman was on me now.
She scuttled forward on bent limbs, impossibly fast, and those needle teeth sank into my shoulder. I felt dozens of tiny punctures, felt her jaw lock down. The pain was different from the bite on my leg—sharper, more precise, like being stabbed with hot needles repeatedly.
I grabbed her head with my free hand and pulled. My enhanced strength let me actually move her, but that jaw was locked tight. Her teeth tore through my flesh as I forced her away, leaving ragged holes that immediately started pouring blood.
I swung the sword in a desperate arc. It caught her across the throat, and her head came partially off, hanging by strips of gray flesh.
[You have slain a Dormant Beast, Songweaver's Puppet.]
The wolf-thing was recovering, shaking its ruined head. I limped toward it—my calf was barely supporting my weight now—and drove the sword through its chest before it could stand. It convulsed once, then went still.
[You have slain a Dormant Beast, Songweaver's Puppet.]
Three down. Six to go.
I was already bleeding from multiple wounds, and my left leg was screaming with every step. But there was no time to rest.
The next one didn't give me a choice.
It had four arms—each one ending in curved bone claws like scythes. It moved like a spider, scuttling across the cave floor with horrifying speed, all four arms carrying its weight.
I swung as it closed in. It blocked with two arms, the claws catching my blade with a metallic screech. The other two arms came in from the sides.
I saw them coming but couldn't dodge fast enough. One set of claws raked across my ribs—not deep, but the cuts burned like they'd been dipped in acid. The other caught my left thigh, tearing through cloth and skin, leaving four parallel gashes that immediately wept blood.
I staggered back, swinging frantically. The sword caught one of its arms, severing it at the elbow. Black blood fountained out, spraying across the cave floor. The creature didn't even slow down.
It lunged, all three remaining arms grabbing me. Two around my torso, squeezing like a vice. One grabbing my sword arm, those bone claws digging into my forearm. It lifted me off the ground—I was twice as strong as normal, but this thing was even stronger—and slammed me into the cave wall.
Stars exploded across my vision. The impact drove what little air I had left from my lungs. My grip on the sword loosened. The creature slammed me again. And again. I could feel my ribs cracking under the pressure.
I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. Just pain and the crushing pressure and the knowledge that I was about to die if I didn't do something now.
Desperately, I drove my thumb into one of its glowing eyes.
The creature shrieked, a sound that made my ears ring. It threw me. I flew across the chamber, hit the ground hard, and rolled. Pain flared everywhere. My sword clattered away across the stone floor.
I scrambled after it on hands and knees, my ribs screaming with each breath, my leg barely functional. Behind me, I could hear the creature recovering, could hear it scuttling toward me with those remaining three arms.
My fingers closed around the sword hilt just as it reached me.
I rolled onto my back and drove the blade straight up. It punched through the creature's chest, through whatever passed for its heart. The momentum of its lunge carried it forward, driving the blade deeper.
It collapsed on top of me, twitching. Black blood poured from its mouth onto my face, burning where it touched.
I shoved it off with my good leg and one arm, barely managing to free myself from under its weight.
[You have slain a Dormant Beast, Songweaver's Puppet.]
I tried to stand. My legs wouldn't cooperate. The left one was nearly useless from the bite, the right was shaking from exhaustion and the gashes across my thigh. My ribs were broken—I could feel them grinding with each breath. My left arm was still functional, barely, but the right was starting to go numb from where the claws had dug in.
But I wasn't done yet.
The next two came together—coordinated, intelligent in a way the others hadn't been.
One was tall and thin, its limbs stretched to impossible proportions. It moved with disturbing grace, almost floating across the ground. The other was shorter but heavily muscled, its skin covered in bony protrusions like armor.
The tall one reached me first. Its elongated arms swept down in long arcs, fingers tipped with claws that gleamed in the dim light. I blocked the first strike, but the second caught me across the chest—shallow cuts that stung but didn't go deep.
Then the armored one hit me like a truck.
It barreled into my side, and I heard something crack. More ribs. I went down, the sword flying from my hand again. The creature was on top of me immediately, those bony protrusions digging into my flesh as it tried to pin me down.
I got my left arm up, wedged it under the thing's chin, and pushed with everything I had. My enhanced strength was the only thing keeping its snapping jaws from my throat. I could see inside its mouth—rows and rows of teeth, all the way down its throat, gnashing and slavering.
The tall one loomed over us, preparing to drive its claws through my exposed chest.
I twisted desperately, throwing all my weight to the side. The armored creature came with me, and we rolled. The tall one's claws came down—and punched through its companion's back instead of me.
The armored creature shrieked. I used the moment of confusion to bring my knee up between its legs—there was something there, I didn't know what—and felt something crunch. It reared back.
I grabbed a rock from the cave floor with my left hand and smashed it into the creature's face. Once. Twice. Three times. Its skull cracked. Four times. Five. Its face caved in.
[You have slain a Dormant Beast, Songweaver's Puppet.]
The tall one pulled its claws from its dead companion and refocused on me. I scrambled for my sword, but I was too slow. Too injured. Too tired.
It grabbed me by the leg—the bad one—and lifted me into the air. Pain unlike anything I'd ever felt shot through my entire body. I screamed.
It slammed me down onto the cave floor. My head bounced off stone. My vision went white, then dark around the edges. I was going to pass out. I couldn't pass out.
It lifted me again. This time I saw my sword on the ground, just within reach if I could—
I stretched. My fingers brushed the hilt. The creature slammed me down again. Stars exploded across my vision. Blood filled my mouth.
One more time. It lifted me. I grabbed the sword.
As it brought me down for the third slam, I twisted in its grip and drove the blade through its elongated neck. The enchanted steel cut clean through.
Its head tumbled away. Its body collapsed, still holding my leg.
[You have slain a Dormant Beast, Songweaver's Puppet.]
Six down. Three to go.
I lay there for a moment, gasping, everything hurting. My head was swimming. I'd taken too much damage. Lost too much blood. I needed to stop, I needed to rest.
But they weren't going to let me.
One had multiple eyes—dozens of them, scattered across its face and chest, all glowing with that same pale light. Another had no arms at all, just a massive jaw that unhinged to reveal a throat full of lamprey-like teeth. The third looked almost normal except for the massive blade-like protrusions growing from its forearms.
I couldn't stand. Couldn't even sit up properly. My body was shutting down from the trauma.
But I could still fight.
I could still crawl.
The multi-eyed one came at me first. I swung the sword from my position on the ground, a wild desperate arc. It dodged easily—with all those eyes, it could see the attack coming from any angle.
It pinned my sword arm to the ground with its foot. Started bending down, mouth opening wide.
I punched it in one of its eyes with my left fist. The eye burst. I punched another. And another. It shrieked, rearing back. I pulled my sword arm free and drove the blade up through its jaw and into its brain.
[You have slain a Dormant Beast, Songweaver's Puppet.]
The one with the massive jaw rushed in while I was still pulling the sword free. No time to dodge. No time to block.
That jaw came down toward my head.
I shoved my left arm into its mouth. Felt those lamprey teeth sink in, felt them tearing flesh from bone. The pain was indescribable. But it kept the jaws occupied.
With my right hand—my sword hand, the one that was barely functional—I drove the blade into its side. Once. Twice. Three times. Black blood gushed over me.
The creature tried to bite down harder on my arm, trying to tear it off. I felt bones crack. I felt my hand go numb.
I kept stabbing. Four times. Five. Six.
Finally, it went limp, its jaw relaxing. I pulled my arm out—or what was left of it. The flesh was shredded, bone visible in places. My left arm was completely useless now.
[You have slain a Dormant Beast, Songweaver's Puppet.]
Eight down. One to go.
The last one—the one with the blade-arms—stood back, watching. Evaluating. It had seen me kill the others. Knew I was dangerous even like this.
I tried to stand. Made it to my knees before my legs gave out. I tried again. Fell.
I couldn't stand. My right leg was barely functional. My left leg was destroyed. My left arm was mangled. My ribs were broken. My head was bleeding.
The creature moved. Fast. Faster than the others.
Its blade-arm came down in a vicious arc.
I rolled. Too slow. The blade caught my face, raking from my right cheekbone down to my jaw.
I felt the skin tear. Felt it peel away like paper. My teeth were suddenly exposed to the cold cave air, the nerve endings screaming. Blood poured into my mouth, hot and copper-tasting. I could feel my own teeth with my tongue from the outside.
The creature raised its blade-arm again, preparing for the killing blow.
I swung the sword with my right hand—clumsy, desperate, all my remaining strength behind it.
The blade caught the creature in the side, just below the ribs. The enchanted steel bit deep, cutting through muscle and organ. I twisted, driving it deeper.
The creature stumbled, black blood gushing from the wound. Its blade-arm came down anyway, but weaker now, off-target. It scraped across my shoulder instead of my neck.
I pulled the sword free and swung again. This time I caught it across the throat.
It collapsed.
[You have slain a Dormant Beast, Songweaver's Puppet.]
I lay there on the cave floor, bleeding from too many wounds to count. My face was ruined. My arms were destroyed. My legs wouldn't work. My ribs were broken. Everything hurt.
But I wasn't done.
Because I was angry.
So fucking angry.
Not just at the Terror coiled around that pillar ahead. Not just at the puppets or this situation.
I was angry at myself.
I'd almost let myself go. Almost completely relaxed in a fucking Nightmare. Swimming in waterfalls, floating on my back with a content smile, enjoying the scenery like I was on vacation. In a place literally designed to kill me.
How stupid could I be?
I didn't care that I'd chosen to come here. That I could've stayed in the village, safe and warm. That wasn't the point.
The point was that thing up ahead, coiled around its pillar in the center of the chamber.
The Songweaver.
I could see it now through the dim light—massive, serpentine, its black scales gleaming wetly. That beautiful, terrible face with eyes closed in sleep. It was resting. Had to be. The singing had stopped when the puppets attacked, and now it just lay there, coiled and still.
Resting after sending its pets to kill me.
Like I was nothing.
Like I was just another victim to add to its collection.
My face twisted into something that was almost a smile—but wrong. Broken. Blood dripping from my exposed teeth.
I started crawling.
Every movement was agony. My right leg dragged uselessly behind me. My left arm was completely destroyed, just dead weight. I used my right arm and whatever strength remained in my left leg to pull myself forward, inch by agonizing inch.
The sword scraped against stone as I dragged it with me.
Blood trailed behind me like a crimson ribbon. My ruined face dripped steadily onto the cave floor. My exposed teeth ached with every breath of cold air. My vision kept blurring, going dark at the edges, but I blinked it away.
Not yet. Not fucking yet.
The Songweaver didn't move. Didn't even seem to notice me. Why would it? I was half-dead already. Just a broken thing crawling across its floor.
Good.
Let it think I was done.
Let it think I was harmless.
My right arm trembled with each pull forward. The muscles were shot, barely responding. But I kept going. Kept dragging myself closer.
Ten meters.
Five.
Three.
I could see where the scales overlapped on its body now. Could see the faint rise and fall of its breathing. Could smell the rot coming off it—decay and old blood and something else, something ancient and wrong.
That broken smile was still on my face. Blood dripping from my exposed teeth.
Almost there.
Two meters.
One.
I reached the base of the pillar it was coiled around. The Songweaver's body was massive this close, each coil as thick as a tree trunk. Its head rested on one of the upper coils, that beautiful face serene in sleep.
I used the pillar to pull myself up slightly, getting better leverage. My hand closed around the sword hilt. My grip was weak—my fingers barely responded—but I held on.
The Songweaver's throat was right there. Right fucking there.
I drew back my arm. Every muscle screamed. My broken ribs ground against each other. My vision went white with pain.
Didn't matter.
I drove the sword forward with everything I had left.
The enchanted blade punched through scale and flesh, burying itself to the hilt in the Songweaver's throat.
The creature's eyes snapped open. Those pale, glowing eyes went wide with shock and pain.
It thrashed. Its massive body uncoiled violently, slamming into the cave walls, into the pillar, into the floor. The whole chamber shook. Rocks fell from the ceiling.
I held on.
My hand was locked around the sword hilt in a death grip. The Songweaver's thrashing whipped me around like a rag doll, but I didn't let go. Couldn't let go. My fingers wouldn't open even if I tried.
I twisted the blade. Felt it tear through more flesh, more vital things. Black blood gushed over my hand, my arm, my face. It burned where it touched, but I didn't care.
Die. Just fucking die already.
The Songweaver's movements were getting weaker. Less coordinated. It crashed into the pillar one more time, and I felt something in me break—another rib, maybe, or something in my back. Didn't matter.
Its thrashing slowed. Became twitches. Spasms.
Those glowing eyes were dimming, the light fading like dying embers.
I twisted the blade one more time.
The Songweaver went still.
For a moment, nothing happened. Just silence. Just me, hanging off the sword embedded in a dead monster's throat, my body a collection of broken parts held together by spite and adrenaline.
[You have slain an Awakened Terror, Songweaver.]
[Wake up, Yves! Your nightmare is over.]
[Prepare for Appraisal…]
————
Author Notes
This chapter was really long, nearing 5,000 words. I think I went a little overboard near the end, but that's alright… right?
Anyway, I really do hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, and feel free to give some feedback on things I should change. I would really appreciate power stones, so please give me some. Thank you!