The fall felt like a lifetime, fog so dense it pressed against my skin like a second drowning. My spear clattered against the cliffside, its echo swallowed by the mist as the rope around my waist snapped taut. I dangled there, swaying in the void, the sea below snarling—a living symphony of buzzes and hums that reverberated through my chest like a warning. I’d leapt for Aya, my sister’s name a silent scream in my throat, but the haze hid her from me. All I could see were those lantern-eyes, glowing through the shroud, watching.

I hit the slope with a bone-jarring thud, rocks tearing at my palms and knees. Blood mixed with the damp grit beneath me, and the air hit me hard—salt-soaked, rancid with rot, a stench so thick it coated my tongue. Up on the peaks, it’d been faint, a whisper of the sea’s decay. Down here, it was a shout. My spear was gone, lost in the plunge, but I fumbled for my knife—a jagged shard of steel from a world that no longer existed. My hands shook as I gripped it, ears straining against the wind. The hum was louder now, rhythmic, insistent, pulsing like a heartbeat beneath the waves. It wasn’t just sound—it was alive, probing, searching.

A glint caught my eye: a trail of purple slime, slick and glistening, snaking down the rocks toward the water’s edge. My gut twisted, but I followed it, half-crawling, boots slipping on the wet stone. The fog parted reluctantly, revealing a jagged outcrop where the sea lapped hungrily. There she was—Aya, sprawled on the ground, her spear still clutched in one trembling hand. Her chest rose and fell, shallow but steady. Alive. Relief flooded me, sharp and fleeting, until I saw the tendril coiled around her ankle, its tip pulsing with a faint, sickly light. Two of the shelled creatures stood over her, their armored backs gleaming like wet stone, tentacles twitching in the air as if tasting her breath.

Then I saw it—a shadow in the mist, taller, thinner, its form rippling like oil spilled across water. No shell, no glowing eyes, just a writhing mass of tendrils crowned with a maw of needle-teeth that glistened wetly. The Whisperer. It didn’t hum like the others. It whispered—a low, guttural rasp that slithered into my skull: “Come… deeper…” My blood froze, every muscle locking as its hollow sockets turned toward me, leaking black slime that dripped and hissed on the rock. It wasn’t just a creature—it was a violation, a thing that shouldn’t exist.

I lunged anyway, knife slashing at the tendril binding Aya. It snapped with a wet crack, purple ooze spraying across my arms, burning like acid through my sleeve. She jolted awake, eyes wide with terror. “Lin Ze!” she croaked, scrambling back as the shelled ones whirled toward me. A tentacle lashed out, missing my head by inches, shattering the stone where I’d stood. I grabbed her arm, dragging her toward a crevice in the cliffside. “Move—now!” My voice was raw, barely audible over the wind and the hum.

We wedged ourselves into the gap, the rock scraping our shoulders, barely wide enough to shield us. The shelled creatures battered the entrance, their shells grinding against stone, their buzzes rising into a piercing shriek. Aya clutched my sleeve, her breath ragged. “They took Xiao Yu… down there,” she whispered, pointing beyond the shore. The sea churned darker there, waves folding over something unnatural. I squinted through the mist, my heart sinking into a cold pit.

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Beneath the surface, shapes moved—hundreds, maybe thousands, their faint glow weaving through a nightmare city of bone and metal. Towers twisted upward, their tips breaching the waves like skeletal fingers clawing for air. Lights pulsed within, not random but deliberate, a pattern I couldn’t decipher. And among them were humans—or what had once been humans. Their movements were jerky, mechanical, arms bent at wrong angles, skin patched with scales that shimmered in the green light. They hauled slabs of rock, their hands fused with tools of sinew and steel, crafting spires that seemed to grow before my eyes. Slaves, not dead but remade, their humanity stripped away piece by piece.

Aya choked on a sob, her voice breaking. “Xiao Yu… she’s one of them now.” I gripped my knife tighter, bile rising in my throat. The Whisperer drifted closer to the crevice, its tendrils probing the air. “See… know…” it rasped, its voice a blade against my mind. I wanted to scream, to carve it out of my head, but it pressed deeper: “Yours… soon…” The shelled ones paused, heads tilting as if listening, and then a deeper hum answered from the water—a sound so low it shook the ground beneath us, rattling loose stones into the sea.

The waves parted with a groan, and it rose: the behemoth, a mountain of spiked shell and writhing tentacles thicker than trees. Its eyes burned white, twin suns in the gloom, and its hum was a command that drowned the wind. The Whisperer tilted its head, teeth parting wider, and hissed, “Obey…” The smaller creatures shifted, their tentacles tightening around Aya’s severed bond, dragging it back toward the water as if to reclaim her. I pressed against the rock, shielding her, my mind racing. “They’re calling them back,” I muttered, barely believing it.

Aya shook her head, tears cutting tracks through the grime on her face. “No, Lin Ze—they’re calling us.” Her voice trembled, but before I could stop her, she shoved past me, spear raised high. “Aya, no!” I roared, lunging after her as she charged the nearest shelled beast. Her spear struck true, piercing one of its glowing eyes. It shrieked, thrashing wildly, purple blood spraying across the rocks, but the Whisperer darted forward, its tendrils snaring her waist with a sickening snap. “Mine…” it whispered, the sound a violation that made my skin crawl.

I slashed at it, screaming her name, my knife biting into its slick flesh. The ooze burned my hands, but I didn’t care—the Whisperer’s grip loosened for a heartbeat, its rasp turning to a snarl. The behemoth’s hum surged, a deafening roar that shook the shore, and the sea answered. Waves crashed over the outcrop, cold and relentless, dragging at my legs. The smaller creatures swarmed us, their tentacles coiling around my ankles, my arms, pinning me down. I stabbed blindly, purple blood mixing with saltwater, staining the rocks in violent streaks. The Whisperer loomed over Aya, its teeth inches from her face, whispering, “Join… us…”

She thrashed, her spear slipping from her grip, falling into the surf with a muted splash. Her hand reached for me, fingers trembling, her eyes pleading through the chaos. I strained against the tendrils, my knife slipping in my blood-slick hands, but the behemoth’s command was absolute. The sea surged again, a wall of water that swallowed the shore, pulling us under. The Whisperer’s voice was the last thing I heard—soft, wet, eternal: “Home…” Darkness closed over us, and the hum became everything—a heartbeat, a hunger, a promise I couldn’t escape.