The hallway reeked of copper and bile. Blood ran in crooked lines along the tiles, soaking into the shoes of the corpses that had once been William's classmates. The silence was heavy, broken only by a wet rhythm—thud… thud… thud…—growing closer with each echo.
From the shadows, it crawled forth.
The thing was a nightmare stitched together in mockery of life. A bloated parody of a toad, its skin pieced from different carcasses. Seams of black thread stretched over swollen flesh. One eye was glassy, the other bulging, twitching. Its chest bulged and sank in uneven spasms, releasing a putrid stench that stung William's throat.
His legs locked. His lungs refused him air.
Something inside him cracked open.
The world dimmed. His vision tunneled into darkness. And in that hollow space—an endless void spattered with flickering sparks of thoughts not his own—words surged. They pressed against his skull like knives, fragments of knowledge tangled in whispers.
He felt them before he understood them. He spoke them before he knew he could.
His lips moved, a broken chant spilling out:
"Zhar'kuul… emek-tha rian vo…
Torr'esh… ul-naaak… vriith-sa…
Shathor… shathor… kha'riem…
Vruuulth… aketh… miiraaaa—"
The syllables twisted his throat raw. They weren't words meant for human tongues.
The creature froze. Its tongue, halfway lashing, shivered in the air. Its sewn eyes jittered, as if startled by some hidden command.
And William changed.
Hairline cracks split across his arms, black ichor leaking like tar. His fingers stretched into claws slick with shadow. His grin widened into something cruel and alien, baring rows of jagged, bone-pale teeth. His eyes burned crimson, no longer holding a boy's fear.
He was not William. Not fully.
The monster's hesitation ended. Its tongue lashed out—thick, veined, snapping like a whip. William's body blurred, sliding along the wall like a smear of darkness. The tongue shattered tiles where he'd stood.
The beast puffed up, throat swelling grotesquely. Then—
A spray of acidic bile splattered down the corridor. William dodged again, though droplets ate away at his arm. Skin hissed, flesh melted, bone peeked through. He screamed—but the sound was no longer human. It was a shriek that rattled windows and split glass, layered with voices that weren't his own.
Tentacles tore through his back, slamming into the tiles, anchoring him. His body rippled, jaws splitting open wider, teeth curving into impossible crescents.
He lunged.
His claws tore into the creature's belly, ripping seams apart. The stench of rotting meat and clotted blood choked the air. The toad wailed—a horrible blend of whale-song and insect screeches. Its stitched limbs flailed wildly, but William was faster, hungrier. He sank his teeth into its arm and ripped it free, threads snapping like wet ropes.
The monster croaked again, swollen throat bursting as William's tentacles punctured it from within. Green-black fluid spilled, burning the floor. The creature writhed, shrieking as William ripped open its chest cavity and dragged organs out piece by piece. Its heart-like core pulsed once… twice… before his claws crushed it into pulp.
The abomination convulsed, then stilled.
But William didn't stop.
He clawed. Tore. Screeched. Flesh became ribbons, bones shattered like chalk, organs reduced to slurry. The creature's voice died long before its body did. The agony was drawn out, prolonged, obscene.
At last, there was nothing left but fragments twitching faintly on the ground.
William staggered, his body still warped, face dissolving into writhing strands of meat. His tentacles lashed against the walls, his voice crying in overlapping tones—male, female, inhuman—until it all collapsed into one last howl of pain.
And then—
A whisper. His whisper. Quiet, desperate, human.
"Wake up."
His body snapped back. Tentacles retracted, claws melted into fingers, fangs dulled into teeth. He fell, gasping, blood-soaked and trembling.
On the floor nearby, what remained of the abomination began to disintegrate into ash. Only one piece remained: a tongue-like organ, barbed, twitching faintly as though it still lived.
William lay staring at it, hollow and shaking. The whispers in his skull clawed at him, promising more, always more.
And deep inside, he knew—this was only the beginning.