Story 896: The Chosen of the Maw

Lucas stood motionless as the Maw’s burning, soulless eyes locked onto him. His body trembled, but not from fear—from something deeper, something primal. The infection inside him pulsed, whispering its twisted secrets. He could feel it… calling.

Mia grabbed his arm. “Lucas, move! That thing will tear you apart!”

But Lucas didn’t run. He understood now. The Maw wasn’t just a mindless beast. It was something greater—something aware.

The others didn’t hear the voices like he did. They couldn’t feel the hunger.

Lucas slowly raised his hands, his infected veins pulsing black and red.

“I… understand you,” he whispered.

The Maw tilted its head.

Then it spoke back.

A horrid, guttural language, the sound of bones scraping together, of flesh knitting itself anew.

Evelyn’s breath caught in her throat. “No. That’s… impossible.”

“Lucas, what the hell is happening?” Reaper growled, his machete still dripping with black gore.