"I know you love your life," the thing growled, voice low and cracking. "So I'm only gonna ask this once—where is Dane Hollow?"
His eyes were a dark red. He had long claws and sharp fangs. Mud and dried blood streaked his arms and face. His shirt was hanging off in tatters, slashed wide open across the chest. Deep claw marks carved into his skin. He didn't seem to care.
Jade didn't flinch. He stared right back, cold and steady. "Never heard of him."
The thing smiled—a slow, thin smile. Not friendly. Jade didn't return it. His face wasn't angry. Just tight, sharp. Disgust, pure and plain.
The thing's arm moved with a blur, and Jade didn't have time to dodge. Claws ripped across his side, deep and mean. Jade hit the floor hard, breath knocked out, blood already spreading beneath him in a wide, crawling stain.
The thing didn't say a word. Just turned and walked away.
Jade's hand twitched once. He caught one last glimpse of his face before everything went dark.
Then after what felt like an eternity of anguish, a voice cut through the silence.
"Are you alright?" Frantic. Desperate. "Jade—hey! Speak to me!" A rough shake. "Wake up. Jade. JADE!" A snarl of panic. "Fucking wake up!"
Jade jolted upright. The world snapped back like rubber—air too sharp, colors too bright. His chest ached, but when he pressed his hand to it, there was nothing. No blood. No tear. Just skin, warm and slick with sweat. Was I dreaming?
He turned his head to the right.
Dane was there, shoulders heaving, slick with sweat and dust. His black hair was matted with sand, his eyes bloodshot and frantic. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.
"Dane… What the hell is happening?" Jade asked, breathless.
"I'll explain later. You need to move. Now," Dane snapped, grabbing Jade's arm. "Get out of here."
"Why? Dane, what's—"
"They're coming," he growled.
"Who?" Jade shouted back.
Dane pulled him to his feet and shoved him toward the rear wall.
"Back door. Through the woods. Don't stop. Don't look back. Run like your life depends on it—because it does."
A bead of sweat slid down his cheek. He swallowed hard—then saw Dane turn to face the front door.
His eyes flared green, unnaturally bright. Fangs bared. Claws unsheathed. His body rippled as something primal surged beneath his skin—ears sharpening, hair lengthening—but he stayed on two legs. Still human, barely.
"Dane," Jade said, one foot at the door. "If I don't see you again—"
"You will."
Outside, branches cracked. Dane's body went still.
"They can smell us," Dane whispered.
And Jade ran.
He burst into the woods, trees closing in around him, the smell of pine and ash thick in the air. The wind was sharp. Cold. Wrong.
Branches whipped at his arms, shadows slashed across his path, but he didn't dare stop. Roars echoed from somewhere deep behind him—low, inhuman, and growing louder. Closer. The forest was a black labyrinth, its trees towering like crumbling skyscrapers, their jagged limbs clawing at the sky.
Still, he ran.
Oddly, he wasn't out of breath. His lungs stayed steady, his legs obeyed without question. It was like something inside him had changed, like instinct had overridden fear. But there was no path—just chaos. Trees. Dirt. Darkness. No direction.
Eventually, after what felt like hours but could've been minutes, his legs gave out beneath him. He collapsed face-first into the cold, damp earth, the breath finally catching in his throat. The last thing he saw were the stars staring back at him.
Then his eyes closed involuntarily.
…
He awoke with a violent start.
His heart pounded. His skin itched—ants, beetles, tiny creatures scuttled across his arms and neck. He slapped at them, scrambled up. His clothes were soaked in sweat and caked in soil. His back ached. His palms were scraped. The air smelled of rot and wet moss.
The forest around him was silent—but not still.
The trees seemed to lean in closer than before. Their twisted branches hung like arms. He felt watched. Not by one pair of eyes—but by many. Thousands. From every direction.
He didn't wait.
His muscles burned. His foot was bleeding—he didn't know when it started. He didn't care.
He knew that the moment he stopped, the pain would catch him like everything else.
Then—light.
Faint at first. Pale beams piercing the dark ahead, flickering between trees like distant stars.
Headlights.
His pulse surged. He ran faster, stumbling toward the glow. Thorns tore at his legs, branches raked across his face, but he didn't care. The lights meant people. Safety. Escape.
He broke through the last line of trees and hit asphalt. A road.
And then—
BAM.
Searing pain. A flash of blinding white.
The world spun.
Metal crunched.
Then, nothing.
Just darkness.