The corridor narrowed as they moved deeper, the walls slick with condensation and the faint, cloying scent of rot. The cells stretched along either side, their iron doors hanging ajar. Inside, the remnants of what had been prisoners-feral vampires and failed experiments-painted the stone in gruesome displays of gore.
Blood splattered the walls in streaks and arcs, as if the beasts had clawed each other apart in maddened frenzy. Bits of flesh clung to jagged iron bars, and entrails spilled out across the floor in rotting heaps.
The farther they went, the less of the carnage they encountered, as if even death had abandoned this part of the prison.
The eerie void left behind by the violence was deafening. The muffled chaos of the mansion above had all but disappeared, replaced by the sound of their breaths and the rhythmic thud of their hearts. Each footstep echoed ominously, swallowed by the oppressive silence.
chest tightened. He tightened his grip on his spike, glancing back at the others.
Jake's expression was stone, but his eyes darted around as if expecting an attack at any moment. Elias, trembling slightly, clutched the oil-soaked rags and blankets.
The pets stayed close, their fear evident in the way they clung to one another, their steps faltering with every passing moment.
The group came to the final stretch of the prison-a row of cells stretching into the shadows. Faint torchlight flickered along the walls, casting jagged shadows across the rusted iron bars. Then they heard it.
A low growl echoed from the farthest cell. It wasn't loud, but it carried weight-a guttural, inhuman sound that made the hair on Luke's arms stand on end. Everyone froze.
From the open cell at the end of the corridor, movement stirred. A feral, bound in heavy chains, lay slumped against the wall. Its body was a grotesque distortion of sinew and bone, its pale skin stretched taut over skeletal features. It wasn't strong enough to break free, not yet. But then its head jerked up, and its bloodshot eyes locked onto the group. Humans.
The scent of human blood filled the air. The feral's growl deepened, turning into a wet snarl. It threw itself against the chains, its body contorting in unnatural ways. Muscles tore and reformed as it thrashed, its claws scraping against the stone floor. The sound was deafening in the silence, reverberating down the corridor. "Keep moving," Luke whispered, his voice barely audible.
The feral's frenzy intensified. Its arms pulled against the chains, the flesh peeling back to reveal raw muscle and bone. Pieces of its body tore free, hanging in bloody ribbons as it writhed and clawed at the air. "Gods..." Elias whispered, his voice trembling "Shut up," Jake hissed.
The feral's chains groaned, its flesh tearing further with each lunge. The air was thick with the coppery tang of blood and the fetid stench of decay. Then, silence.
The feral froze, its eyes still fixed on them. Its breathing was ragged, each exhale a guttural rasp. The tension in the corridor was suffocating, every member of the group holding their breath.
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Jake turned, gesturing for everyone to stay silent as they moved past the cell. Each step was agonizingly slow, the sound of their boots on stone impossibly loud in the stillness. They were almost past it. A sudden crash shattered the silence.
The feral hurled itself against the bars of the adjacent wall, its body ripping free of its chains with a sickening crunch. Flesh and bone splattered across the stone as it collided with the wall, its jagged teeth bared in a feral snarl.
It stared at them, unhinged and ravenous. The pets gasped, their terror breaking the fragile quiet.
"Run!" Luke shouted.
The group bolted, the sound of the feral's snarls chasing them as they fled.
The feral erupted from the shadows, its gaunt form blocking the path ahead. The faint, flickering light from a wall torch illuminated its grotesque features—a skeletal body stretched taut with decayed flesh, chunks of meat hanging loosely from its ribcage. Its jaw hung slightly open, revealing rows of jagged, yellowed teeth. A putrid stench rolled off it, a suffocating combination of decay, blood, and death.
The group froze, the air thick with terror. The feral tilted its head, its hollow eyes glowing faintly red, as if savoring the fear radiating off the humans before it.
Luke stepped forward, his voice sharp and commanding. "Form up! Spikes out! Keep your formation tight!"
The slaves and pets shuffled together, trembling as they raised their crude, makeshift wooden spikes. The sound of their shallow, panicked breaths and the shuffle of feet echoed in the corridor.
The feral moved.
It didn't lunge immediately. Instead, it dragged itself forward on elongated limbs, its claws scraping against the stone with a grating screech. It sniffed the air, its sunken nostrils flaring. Then, with a low, guttural growl, it surged forward. One of the pets screamed, her grip faltering. Her wooden spike clattered to the ground, and her legs trembled beneath her. A dark stain spread across her dress as she lost control, the smell of urine joining the fetid air. The feral's movements were a blur.
One second, the girl was there. The next, she was airborne, her body slamming into the stone wall with a sickening crunch. Bones shattered audibly on impact, her limbs flopping unnaturally as she hit the floor.
The feral was on her before she could even cry out. Its clawed hands pinned her to the ground, tearing through her clothes and into her flesh. Blood spurted from fresh wounds, pooling beneath her.
The feral's jaws unhinged wider than seemed possible, and it sank its teeth deep into her neck. The sound of skin tearing and the crunch of cartilage filled the corridor. Blood sprayed in an arc, coating the feral's face and chest as it ripped her throat out in a single, savage motion.
Her head lolled to the side, nearly severed, her lifeless eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. But the feral didn't stop.
Its claws raked down her torso, slicing through muscle and bone as though it were paper. It tore her stomach open, spilling her intestines onto the blood-soaked floor. The pet's body twitched involuntarily as the feral feasted, its jagged teeth crunching through her ribs to reach the organs beneath. Luke's voice cut through the horror. "Run!" The group needed no further prompting. They bolted down the corridor, their footsteps pounding against the stone.
Luke stayed at the rear, his eyes darting between the fleeing group and the carnage behind them. The feral remained hunched over its meal, blood dripping from its claws as it ripped flesh from bone. Then it stopped.
A guttural roar filled the corridor, so loud and deep that it seemed to shake the very walls. The feral's head snapped up, its hollow eyes locking onto the fleeing humans. "No, no, no," Jake muttered under his breath, glancing behind him.
The feral moved with terrifying speed, its elongated limbs propelling it forward like a predator in full pursuit. Its claws gouged deep furrows in the stone as it bounded after them, its blood-drenched face twisted into a savage grin.
Luke's heart thundered in his chest. He pushed one of the pets forward, urging them to move faster. "Don't stop! Keep running!"
Elias stumbled, his foot catching on uneven stone. He hit the ground hard, letting out a sharp cry of pain. Luke skidded to a halt, grabbing Elias by the arm and hauling him upright. "Move!"
The feral's shadow loomed on the wall behind them, growing larger with each second. They burst into a wider chamber, their frantic footsteps echoing in the enclosed space.
The air was heavier here, thick with the scent of rot and fresh blood.
Jake spun around, holding his spike like a spear, his face pale but resolute. "We make a stand here!"
"No!" Luke hissed, grabbing Jake's shoulder. "We don't stand a chance!" Jake hesitated, his grip tightening on the spike. He looked back at the others-their faces pale, their bodies trembling with exhaustion and terror. Luke pushed him forward. "Keep running!"
The group surged ahead, their footsteps mingling with the feral's guttural snarls. The corridor narrowed again, and Luke's mind raced, every instinct screaming that their luck was running out. The feral wasn't just chasing them. It was hunting.