Chapter 2: The Rotting Roots
Ren's feet pounded against the wooden stairs, each step echoing like a drumbeat of dread. As he reached the bottom, the sight before him made his blood run cold.
The living room was a wreckage of shattered furniture. Hana was on the floor, her face pale and drenched in cold sweat. She was clutching her leg, where a deep, jagged gash was oozing dark, unnatural fluid. She was crawling backward, her eyes wide with a terror that surpassed any nightmare.
And there, standing over her, was the source of that terror.
It was a man—or what used to be a man. His clothes were shredded rags, and his skin had a gray, sickly pallor. From his forehead, a singular, jagged horn protruded like a shard of obsidian. His eyes weren't eyes anymore; they were two glowing pits of crimson rage. His fingernails had lengthened into blackened talons, and as he snarled, Ren saw rows of razor-sharp teeth dripping with saliva.
It was their father. He had become a Feral.
"Dad?" Ren whispered, his voice trembling.
The creature didn't respond with words. It let out a guttural, inhuman screech and lunged. Ren didn't have time to think. He grabbed a heavy wooden chair and swung it with every ounce of strength he possessed.
CRACK.
The chair splintered against the Feral's head. Blood—dark and thick—sprayed across the floor. The creature stumbled, but it didn't stop. It tackled Ren, the weight of its mutated body pinning him to the floor. Ren felt the cold, sharp claws digging into his shoulders. The Feral opened its maw, snapping its jaws inches from Ren's throat.
In a desperate scramble, Ren grabbed a long, jagged piece of wood from the broken chair. As the Feral lunged for the killing bite, Ren jammed the wooden stake horizontally into its mouth. The creature thrashed, its teeth grinding against the hard wood, its foul breath hot on Ren's face.
"Hana! Run!" Ren gasped, struggling to keep the monster at bay.
But Hana didn't run. She scrambled into the kitchen, her hands shaking as she grabbed a heavy chef's knife. She stumbled back toward the struggle. Tears were streaming down her face, and her breath was coming in ragged gasps.
She stood over the monster that was once her father. She closed her eyes tight, a sob escaping her throat, and drove the blade down into the Feral's skull.
The creature stiffened. Its white-blind eyes rolled back, and the thrashing stopped. It slumped onto Ren, its weight becoming unnaturally heavy. As the life left the Feral, its flesh began to harden. Right before their eyes, the gray skin turned to cold, unmoving stone.
Within seconds, the statue of their father began to shimmer with a faint, purple light. Then, with a silent flash, it vanished—teleported away to the Petrified Land.
Ren scrambled to his feet, gasping for air. "Hana! Are you okay?"
He rushed to her side, but his heart nearly stopped when he saw her leg. The cut wasn't just bleeding; dark purple veins were spreading outward from the wound, crawling up her skin like ink in water.
"Ren... it hurts..." Hana whispered, her eyes fluttering before they closed completely. She went limp in his arms.
"No, no, no!" Ren panicked. He knew the rules of this world. If that Feral blood reached her heart or her head, she would turn. She would become one of those things.
He acted on instinct. He grabbed a discarded shirt from a nearby laundry basket and tore it into a long strip. He tied it tightly around her thigh, just above the wound, pulling it so hard his own knuckles turned white. He had to stop the circulation. He had to trap the poison in her leg.
A sudden, dry scratching sound came from the doorway.
Ren froze. He slowly turned his head, his breath hitching in his chest.
Standing in the shadow of the entrance was another figure. Her hair was matted, her eyes were glowing a predatory red, and a small horn was budding from her temple. Her claws scratched against the doorframe.
It was his mother.
The curse hadn't just taken one of them. It had come for the whole family.