The scream still hung in the air when Ashten began to move — slowly at first, then faster, until the mud splashed beneath his bare feet and branches whipped against his arms. The forest ahead was a twisting mass of black trunks and clawed roots, but he didn't hesitate. Someone was out there. Someone human. And though fear gnawed at his insides, something stronger pulled him forward — a need he couldn't name, a drive born from years of being ignored, unseen, unheard.
If he had been the one screaming, no one would have come.
So he ran.
The trees leaned close, their silhouettes jagged and skeletal against the storm-dark sky. Wind howled through the branches like distant wailing, and the smell of rot thickened with every step. The rain returned in cold sheets, soaking his hair, plastering fabric against his skin. Thunder rolled, low and angry, as though something massive shifted in the clouds.
Then he heard it — not a scream this time, but whimpering. Weak. Fading.
Ashten slowed, crouching instinctively. The forest floor sloped into a shallow ravine choked with brambles and moss, and there — at its bottom — lay a figure. A girl, maybe thirteen, dressed in what had once been a school uniform. Her leg was pinned beneath a fallen log, and her hands were slick with blood where she had tried to free herself. Her eyes were wide and unfocused, breath ragged.
But what froze Ashten wasn't her.
It was the creature.
The same eyeless horror from before crouched over her, its limbs bent wrong, its skin twitching as though something crawled beneath it. Its mouth hovered inches above her throat, teeth glistening, savoring the moment.
The girl let out a small, broken cry — too weak to scream now.
Ashten's heart pounded. His hands shook. The instinct to hide surged up again, screaming at him to vanish between the trees, to let the monster finish and move on.
No one would know.No one would blame him.He was only a child.
But the girl's eyes shifted — and met his.
Not pleading.Not begging.Just knowing.
Someone was here. Someone saw her. Someone could choose.
The creature paused, head snapping toward him. Though it had no eyes, Ashten felt its attention like a knife pressed against his throat. Rain dripped from its needle-like teeth. Its chest rose, drawing in his scent, tasting him in the air.
Ashten's legs trembled, but he didn't run.
He stepped forward.
A branch lay near his feet — thick, broken, jagged at one end. His hand closed around it without thinking. It was heavier than he expected, rough against his palm, but solid. Real. Something that could be held. Something that could be swung.
The creature hissed — a sound like steam escaping a grave — and rose to its full height, towering above him. Its limbs stretched unnaturally, joints cracking, body unfolding like some grotesque insect preparing to strike.
Ashten stood his ground.
Not because he thought he could win.Not because he was brave.
But because running would make him the child he used to be — and staying made him something else.
Something new.
The monster lunged.
Ashten lifted the branch—
And the world exploded into motion.