Story 1012: The Ghoul with a Golden Key

Deep beneath the fractured city of Dredholt, a network of tunnels wept from the earth like forgotten scars. They called it the Undercrawl—a place where the dead didn’t stay buried, and doors led to places that were never built.

Gideon Moth, monster hunter and former grave digger, had made the Undercrawl his personal warzone. He moved through the passageways with his lantern flickering low and shovel slung over his shoulder, muttering to himself, counting corpses.

That night, he wasn’t alone.

The stench hit him first—rot mixed with something metallic, like old blood clinging to brass.

Then he saw it.

A figure hunched in the dark, gnawing on bones. Long limbs. Ragged flesh. Hollow, glowing eyes. A ghoul, no doubt. But what caught Gideon’s eye was what dangled from its neck: a golden key, too pristine for a creature that lived among decay.

Gideon raised his shovel.

The ghoul turned and spoke.

“You’re not ready for the door.”