The beast watched from the shadows, its glowing eyes narrowing as it studied the fragile figure before it as it tried to flee.
This little creature should have been dead.
The beast had lunged, claws poised to rend flesh, yet the hairless monkey had evaded with a swiftness that defied its feeble appearance. A flicker of confusion stirred in its mind. How had this prey survived? Why did it still stand, still move, still fight? It was unnatural.
A low growl rumbled through the beast's chest, deep and resonant. The longer it watched, the more its curiosity twisted into something darker—irritation, frustration, a slow-burning fury. It could feel the emotions coiling within, feeding the blaze of its anger.
Why did this creature refuse to fall? Why did it not cower, not flee? Why was it still alive?
As it advanced, the shadows rippled and coiled around the beast, bending to its will like living extensions of its fury. This was its domain—a realm where the very fabric of reality twisted in submission to its power. Here, the beast reigned supreme, the undisputed alpha, its might absolute and unchallenged.
Memories resurfaced of the first time it had felt that raw surge of power coursing through its veins—the moment it had ascended to dominance.
Younger. Smaller. Fangs buried in its throat, hot blood spraying across its vision. Death's breath filled its nostrils-
Then the world screamed.
Reality fractured. The ground had buckled, the air had twisted, and the shadows had surged forth like writhing tendrils. The alpha's triumphant roar became a wet gurgle as the shadows moved of their own accord, reducing flesh to ribbons. When the beast stood, it did so upon a throne of gore and annihilation.
Over time, the beast had come to understand the nature of its power. The closer it was to death, the deeper its wounds, the more he bled, the stronger it became. The tendrils answered its will, lashing out with feral precision, feeding off the very life force of its surroundings. Within its domain, everything was at its mercy. Those who dared to step inside would feel it—the inevitable, crushing certainty that they did not belong. And they would know fear.
Yet now, something unprecedented occurred.
The tendrils of dark energy lashed out, carving deep gouges into the earth and splintering trees as they tore through the landscape. Each strike came closer, a relentless barrage of destruction that left Theon with no room for error. He twisted and weaved between the onslaught, his movements growing more desperate as the beast advanced. The tendrils grazed his skin, leaving behind searing, icy burns that sent sharp jolts of pain through his body—but stopping wasn't an option.
His lungs burned, his muscles screamed in protest, but he forced himself forward, each step fueled by sheer necessity. The terrain shifted beneath him—trees giving way to uneven, jagged ground as his surroundings blurred from the sheer speed of his flight. Then, ahead, he spotted it—a gaping maw of darkness in the rock. A cave.
The cave loomed before him—a jagged maw of darkness, wide enough to swallow him whole. It was the first he'd seen with an entrance narrow enough to matter. His only chance.
Theon didn't hesitate. He sprinted, the beast's presence looming ever closer, its breath hot on his back. Though what Theon did not know, and had no way of knowing, was that the beast had long stopped pursuing him in murderous instinct and was now quietly observing him, egging him on as needed.
Yet as Theon approached the beast noticed the looming shadow and looked up from looking at Theon to see the cave. The creature was going to enter the cave. But the beast itself couldn't enter the cave. It was too big. The creature was going to enter the cave without him? It was going to get away?
…
A heartbeat of perfect, terrible silence.
IT WAS GOING TO GET AWAY…!?
The realization detonated through its mind like wildfire. Suddenly all of the subdued anger within the beast flared out at once, the tendrils writhing and warping the environment as if a gate to the underworld had arisen, and for anyone who came across the beast, it might as well have been.
But it was too late. Just as the beast was about to close the distance, Theon dove, skidding across stone, his body screaming as the impact tore at his skin. The beast's massive frame collided with the cave entrance like a living battering ram, the impact sending shockwaves through the stone. Dust and debris rained down as Theon scrambled deeper into the darkness, his boots skidding across uneven rock. Behind him, the creature's enraged snarls echoed through the cavern, its claws scoring deep furrows in the unyielding stone as it tried in vain to force its way inside.
A sudden silence fell.
Theon turned, blades raised, to see the beast's glowing eyes burning with barely restrained fury at the threshold. Dark tendrils slithered from its form like serpents, probing the cave's interior. They writhed through the air, stopping mere inches from his face - close enough that he could feel their unnatural chill raising goosebumps across his skin.
His grip tightened around his blades, every muscle coiled, prepared to strike if the tendrils reached too far. But then, after a long, tense silence, the beast let out a guttural growl. It retracted its tendrils, the shadows retreating like a tide pulling back from shore, its rage seeming to condense. With one final lingering glare, it turned and vanished into the depths of the forest, its presence fading, but its wrath unmistakably unresolved.
Theon exhaled, his body trembling with a mix of relief and exhaustion. He slumped against the wall, sliding down to sit on the cold, damp ground. The cave was silent, except for his deep breaths and the occasional drip of water echoing from deeper within, the air thick with the scent of earth and stone.
As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Theon began to take in his surroundings. The cave walls were rough and jagged, but what caught his attention were the deep slashes and holes that marred the stone. They were massive, as if some colossal force had torn through the rock with an unforgiving fury.
Theon traced his fingers over one of the slashes, feeling the cold, jagged ridges beneath his touch. The wound's edges were uneven, some sections seared black as if scorched by an unbearable heat. This wasn't the work of a mere claw or blade or some natural process—it was something far more destructive, something unnatural.
His gaze shifted downward, scanning the cave floor. Scattered across the stone lay the remnants of a battle—shattered weapons, broken pieces of armor, and splintered fragments of rock, each telling the same grim story.
Theon checked himself over, wincing as he discovered deep gashes on his arms and legs. The beast had never hit him directly, if it had Theon would have died where he stood. The most it had done was pierce its tendrils and yet those seemed to have faded away. He tore strips from his clothing, using them to bind the worst of his injuries. But he knew it was all temporary.
He was trapped.
The beast was out there, lurking in the shadows, waiting.
That left him with only one option.
He had to go deeper.