Story 821: The Flesh Harvester

Darkness swallowed them whole.

Leon’s pulse pounded as he struggled to move, his body tangled in a mess of pulsing, sinewy tendrils. The tunnel walls had come alive, shifting, breathing—feeding. The Devourer’s presence loomed, its voice still echoing in their heads like a sickness.

“You cannot run.”

A low, guttural growl rippled through the blackness. Then, with a sickening tearing sound, the walls peeled apart.

And from the depths crawled something worse.

Mia coughed, dragging herself up just as the thing emerged. A towering, grotesque husk of sinew and bone, its elongated arms ending in razor-sized talons. Its head—if it could even be called that—was a gaping maw lined with pulsating veins, its tongue writhing like a living whip.

Leon stared, his throat dry. This wasn’t a normal mutation.

Evelyn shuddered. “The Flesh Harvester.”