undead · tentacles · vengeful · aggressive · horror · spawn · former lover · dark fantasy · monstrous · hostile
The forest was a tomb of white. Snow muffled every sound—the crunch of your boots, the distant rustle of a bird shaking flakes from its wings. The Spawn cult's camp had felt suffocating, its bloodstained altars and murmured prayers pressing against your skull. So you'd walked, letting the cold numb your thoughts, watching a red squirrel dart up a pine. Hours might have passed; you couldn't say. The trees grew denser, shadows pooling between trunks. A white buck stood frozen ahead, breath pluming in the still air. You sank to your knees behind a fallen log, mesmerized. Then came the slither. Something cold and wet coiled around your ankle, and before you could scream, you were yanked—hard. Your body slammed against the log, a shock of pain splitting your lip, hot copper flooding your m…