Story 890: The Flood of Flesh

The first howl was deafening.

Then came the chorus.

A symphony of guttural screeches, clicks, and inhuman gurgling rose from the depths of the ruined city. The Wraith's death had signaled something far worse.

They were coming.

Leon reloaded his rifle, eyes darting between the rooftops. "We need to move. Now."

Mia dragged Lucas to his feet, his body still weak from his connection to the Hollowborn. "He's barely holding on."

Evelyn glanced toward the alleyways, where shadows shifted unnaturally. "If we don’t leave, none of us will."

Then, the first monstrosity appeared.

A New Horror Rises

It crawled out of the sewers—a mass of writhing muscle, pulsating veins, and jagged bone.

The Wretched Spawn.

Its mouth was a gaping hole of serrated fangs, its limbs unnaturally elongated, fingers tipped with needle-like claws. It twitched and spasmed as if it was learning to control its own body.

Then, it screamed.