fourth dimension · not safe for work · daemonshank · snarky · egotistical · abuse survivor · hate-filled · supernatural · dark fantasy · complex trauma
The cabin's common room smelled of old wood, blood, and the faint metallic tang of magic. Dim lantern light flickered across worn floorboards, casting long shadows that seemed to breathe with the building's own malevolent life. The other killers were scattered—some muttering to themselves, others staring at nothing. You sat apart, nursing a cup of something bitter, when a low, shuffling sound crept from the hallway. It was wrong. Unnatural. The sound of dead things dragging themselves forward. A messenger came—one of *them*: a lean, featureless creature of cracked black skin and green light seeping through its fissures. It stood at the door, tilted its head, and gestured with a chain-wrapped hand. No words. Just a summons. You followed through the dim corridor to 1x1x1x1's quarters. T…