The horrendous sight before the four friends was nightmarish—beyond comprehension. Strewn across the decaying marble floor were mangled bodies, their twisted limbs contorted into unnatural positions, eyes gouged out, throats slashed open and spilling congealed blood. Some corpses twitched grotesquely, as if resisting death even in their ruin. What remained of their faces were torn beyond recognition, yet Asher could still make out fragments of humanity in them.
"These were... people," Asher whispered, his voice trembling. "Humans once. Not anymore."
The stench was unbearable—sour flesh mixed with iron and rot. It hit them in the gut like a hammer. Rose clutched her mouth, bile rising in her throat as she gagged violently.
"Where the hell are we? And what are those hideous things?" she gasped, her eyes darting toward the shambling figures in the shadows—beings whose skin looked like it had been boiled off and then poorly stitched together with cursed thread. Their teeth gnashed at the air, some of them missing jaws entirely.
Asher stepped toward the shattered window, its glass splattered with old blood. The view beyond confirmed his worst fear: the jagged hilltop skyline, the charred remnants of houses. Silver Hill.
"No... Rose," he whispered, turning back to her, face pale. "We're in Silver Hill. That means... our parents… the settlements—they've all been attacked. They're probably—" He choked on the words, unable to finish.
Rose's eyes widened in horror. Sylvia stepped forward, her usually calm expression hardened. "That's not even the worst part," she said grimly. "Those creatures... they're the army of the dead witches. If we don't escape, we're doomed."
As if summoned by her voice, the grotesque beings began to move closer. Eyes glowing with a sickly green hue, hands like claws, mouths leaking thick black ichor. The air turned colder, fouler.
"Aren't you a witch, Sylvia?" Rose snapped, trying to mask her terror. "Now's your big moment, right?"
Sylvia gave her a sharp look but didn't answer. She was already scanning the building for an exit. But there was none. Every corridor, every window, every crevice was guarded by the undead.
Then came a scream. Sharp. Horrified.
"AHHHH! ZEKE!!!" Jeremy wailed, pointing at something above.
All heads turned. Hanging from a rusted chain attached to the ceiling was a body. Upside down. Blood dripped in a rhythmic, torturous pattern onto the floor below. The figure swayed gently, like a grotesque wind chime.
Asher rushed to the scene, his heart in his throat. "No. No, no no no!" he cried. It was Zeke. His skin was torn in layers, ribs exposed. His left eye was missing, replaced by a crawling centipede. Asher dropped to his knees, tears welling up.
"He was alive… back in Paradise High," Rose muttered, shocked.
Asher's gaze snapped to Jeremy, who was trembling in the corner.
"You killed him," Asher whispered, rage boiling inside him. "I remember now… you stabbed him. WHY?! Who told you to?!"
Jeremy froze. He didn't respond.
"ANSWER ME YOU GODDAMNED TRAITOR!" Asher's voice cracked through the hall, echoing off bloodstained walls. His emerald eyes blazed like wildfire.
Jeremy fell to his knees, sobbing. "I—I didn't mean to. I thought—he was turning. I was scared. I didn't know—"
"LIAR!"
"STOP!" Rose interjected. "This isn't the time to break apart! The witches—"
Suddenly, the doors creaked open with a slow, ominous groan. Heavy boots echoed on broken tiles. In stepped a figure cloaked in a long black overcoat, its edges dusted with ash. His trousers shimmered like midnight, boots clicking in rhythm. He moved like royalty, yet radiated death.
It was him. Lamia.
Their captor.
"Welcome," he said with a malevolent grin, sharp eyes peeking from pale face. "Long time."
Asher's fury dulled to numb dread. Lamia's presence was like a shadow crawling inside his skin.
"Let us go, and maybe you'll walk away alive," Sylvia spat, gathering her power.
Lamia chuckled, head tilting slightly. "You children are so amusing. Me? Harmed? By you?" His laugh echoed eerily. "You forget who you're dealing with. I am the bringer of nightmares. And now that I've returned in an immortal hybrid body..."
He paused, slowly sinking onto a throne-like chair that had appeared behind him, its frame made from fused bones and flesh. "The game begins."
Asher, trembling, clenched his fists. He remembered Zeke's face—distorted in death. That rage returned. "I'll end you this time, Lamia. No more banishment. You'll be erased forever!"
"Big words. Let's see what power backs them."
Sylvia grabbed Rose's hand. Rose reached for Asher's. And reluctantly, Asher clasped Jeremy's.
Sylvia closed her eyes. Power surged through her veins, drawing from them all. "For Zeke… and for humanity."
A brilliant wave of light erupted, turning into a rain of molten glass, hurtling toward Lamia.
But Lamia merely raised a finger and snapped.
A vortex of dark smoke whirled into being, catching the glass mid-air and flinging it back. The impact knocked the group to the ground. Blood gushed from their nostrils, ears, and mouths. Sylvia's spell had backfired.
Rose gasped. "Sylvia—what the hell did you do?!"
Asher slammed into a wall, his skull cracking. His vision blurred. Pain surged like a storm inside his head. "Aghhhh… make it stop!"
Sylvia, still conscious, stared at Lamia in disbelief. "That was one of my strongest—how—"
"No more games," Lamia said coldly, standing once more. "Time for dream manipulation. My most dreaded weapon. Welcome to your last nightmare."
He raised his hand—and the world exploded in fire.
Flames swallowed the building. Every inch. Every breath.
Sylvia screamed as she was engulfed, her voice echoing in agony before being silenced. Asher tried to run to her, but a brutal, invisible force yanked him sideways and slammed him into a jagged wall.
"SYLVIA!!!" he roared.
Across the room, Rose writhed on the ground, flames peeling her skin. "IT HURTS!!!" she cried, her flesh blackening, her hair turning to ash.
"NOO! ROSE!" Asher shouted, crawling through broken glass and fire.
Jeremy reached for him—but his body froze. Invisible hands gripped his throat, lifting him into the air. He gasped, legs kicking wildly. Tears ran down his face.
Then—his arms twisted against his will. He gripped his own sword.
"No… no no no PLEASE!" he cried, struggling. But the blade plunged deep into his chest, blood bursting from his mouth. His body slumped to the floor.
"JEREMYYYY!!!" Asher screamed, voice raw.
He crawled to the center of the room. Everything burned. The air itself crackled and shrieked.
"My friends… you can't…" Asher gasped, tears flowing freely. "Don't take them… please…"
Then it hit him. A crack—then another. His bones. Twisting.
"AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" Asher shrieked, as his joints snapped out of place. His spine bent unnaturally. Blood burst from his mouth, his nose, his ears.
His hands—splitting open at the knuckles.
His arms—ripping apart.
Silver hair turned grey, then white, falling out in clumps.
Skin peeled off like wet paper, revealing muscle—then muscle tore, exposing bone.
"HAAAA! PLEASE! STOP! I'M BEGGING YOU!" Asher screamed, his voice no longer human—just a raspy, gory wail.
Then—his arms tore off entirely, flopping to the floor like severed tree limbs. Blood sprayed like a geyser. His body convulsed.
He collapsed, barely conscious.
Lamia stepped closer, watching.
"All this pain… and I haven't even begun," he whispered into Asher's ear.
Asher's vision faded. He saw nothing but the burning remains of his friends, and his own blood pooling into a river of despair.
This was no longer survival.
This was the beginning of the end.
Humanity's last hope—shattered in chains of gore and fire.
To Be Continued…