When the Wine Spilled Red

The abomination turned to him slowly, its movements deliberate, almost mocking. It still hadn't stepped away from the portal. Whatever was emerging, he was running out of time.

The reptilian arms had fully emerged, followed by its head—a grotesque, skull-like visage writhing and thrashing as if struggling against the forces that birthed it.

'Fuck, where's Shirley?' Ezra's heart pounded, scanning the chaos for any sign of him.

Just then, as if his desperate thoughts had summoned an answer, flames erupted at the base of the tree. The golden leaves ignited in a violent blaze, embers spiraling into the air like dying stars.

It had begun.

Hours earlier—right after escaping the chamber.

Ezra and Shirley had barely made it through the vines before the chamber collapsed behind them. The clearing stretched before them—unchanged, yet eerily wrong.

"We don't have long," Ezra had said, hunched over, catching his breath. His head throbbed from the fragments of memories still invading his mind.

Shirley wiped the sweat off his brow. "You sure about this? We burn the tree, and what? The whole damn forest might go up in flames."

"It's not just about the tree," Ezra had muttered, still trying to piece it all together.

"It's about the cycle. If it's the anchor, then destroying it might be the only way to stop this loop." He gestured vaguely toward the towering willow. "And that thing—the monster—it's connected to it. That's why it's guarding it."

Shirley let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "So, we piss off a monster and torch a sacred tree. Brilliant." But despite the sarcasm, there was no hesitation in his stance.

Ezra had ignored the comment. "We can't take it head-on. We don't have the power for that. But if we distract it, get it away from the portal long enough—"

"Then we burn it while it's vulnerable," Shirley finished, rubbing his jaw. His gaze flicked to the sky, calculating. "We'll need a signal. You'll have to keep it busy."

Ezra had swallowed hard. "Yeah. Figured."

You have the wine, right? And the lighter?"

"That'll be enough."

The fire roared to life. The monster's skeletal head snapped toward the flames, its empty sockets glowing with sudden fury. Ezra could see it now—the way its body tensed, the shift in its stance.

It was afraid.

And if it was afraid, then maybe, just maybe, they had a chance.

"It's just you and me now."

The flames crackled at the base of the tree, swirling hungrily as they devoured the corpses strewn across the ground. The acrid stench of burning flesh thickened the air, clinging to Ezra's lungs with every breath.

The abomination was livid.

Its skeletal maw gaped open, and from within, its grotesque tongue slithered out, writhing like a living thing, pulsing with uncontained fury.

It slithered forward with terrifying speed, striking like a spear. Ezra barely dodged in time, the grotesque tongue embedding itself deep into the bark behind him with a sickening crack.

It was fast—unnervingly so. Its hollow gaze tracked his every movement, unrelenting.

" Catch!" Shirley shouted, hurling a blade toward him.

Ezra snatched the weapon out of the air in one fluid motion, the weight familiar in his grip. No time to hesitate—he pivoted, swinging it in a wide arc just as the abomination lunged again.

'Breathe in. You've done this before.'

The thought echoed in his mind, instinct taking over. But the abomination was faster than he expected. Its ape-like arms swung with crushing force, knocking him off balance before he could react. The impact sent him hurtling through the air, his body slamming into the trunk of a massive tree with bone-rattling force.

Ezra gasped, the air leaving his lungs in a violent rush. His vision blurred, stars dancing at the edges of his sight as he lay still, dazed. His fingers twitched against the dirt, trying to ground himself, but everything felt sluggish—like he was moving underwater.

Then, a sharp, searing pain tore through his abdomen.

A wet warmth spread across his skin, the sensation slow but unmistakable. His breath hitched as he forced himself to look down.

A thick, jagged branch—easily as thick as his forearm—jutted out from his side, impaling him against the tree.

Ezra's mind blanked.

For a brief second, everything was silent.

Then the pain crashed into him like a tidal wave.

A strangled, ragged breath escaped his lips as his entire body tensed. Blood dripped down in uneven rivulets, staining the bark behind him in deep crimson. His grip on his weapon loosened, his knuckles pale, his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

Behind him, the tree burned. Flames licked at its massive, twisting branches, consuming its golden leaves and casting flickering shadows across the ruined chamber. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid scent of burning bark, but Shirley didn't flinch. His expression was unreadable—calm, almost resigned.

Ezra tried to move, tried to scream, but his body refused to obey. His limbs felt like lead, his breath ragged as the world blurred around him. His vision wavered between reality and something else—a feeling of déjà vu so strong it sent a pulse of nausea through his gut.

The abomination took another step toward Shirley, its massive frame dark against the raging fire. Its tail lashed behind it, carving deep grooves into the shattered stone floor. A deep, guttural sound rumbled from its throat—something between a growl and a low, predatory hum.

"Shirley!" Ezra finally forced out, his voice hoarse and barely audible over the crackling flames.

Shirley tilted his head slightly, casting Ezra one last glance. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. It wasn't his usual smug, lazy grin—it was different. Something in his eyes carried a finality that made Ezra's blood turn to ice.

"Guess this is where I clock out," Shirley murmured, more to himself than anyone else. His fingers flexed at his sides, tension running through his frame before he lifted his head, staring down the abomination as if it were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

Shirley turned to Ezra, a small, almost amused smile tugging at his lips. "I know that a cockroach like you won't die so easily," he said, his voice light despite the gravity of the moment. "Live your life to the fullest, kid. Don't end up like me."

Ezra's throat tightened, his mind screaming at him to move, to do something, but his body refused. His hands clenched into trembling fists at his sides, useless.

With a casual, almost theatrical flourish, Shirley took a swig of his wine, the bottle's glass catching the dim light . He stumbled slightly but recovered with a chuckle, fishing a cigarette from his coat pocket and lighting it with steady hands.

"You should at least let a man finish his wine and cigar, you know," he said, taking a slow drag. The smoke curled lazily around his face as he exhaled, his tone almost disappointed. "It's quite rude."

Ezra felt something break inside him.

"Shirley, move!" His voice cracked, desperate, but the older man didn't react.

Instead, he glanced over his shoulder at the looming abomination and grinned. "Oi, Ezra," he called out, his grin widening as he tilted his head slightly, eyes laced with an almost reckless mirth. "Don't I look cool like this?"

Ezra's breath caught in his throat.

And then, in one swift motion, the abomination's tail lashed through the air.

A sickening sound filled the chamber.

Shirley's head hit the ground with a dull thud, rolling slightly before coming to a stop. The cigarette slipped from his lips, its ember flickering weakly before going out.

His body crumpled to the floor.

Ezra froze. The world blurred, his mind unable to process what had just happened. His ears rang, drowning out everything else. His heartbeat pounded violently against his ribs, each pulse sharper than the last.

Shirley was gone.

The air felt heavier, suffocating. 

The abomination took a step forward, its massive form looming over him like a living nightmare. The ground trembled beneath its hooves, deep cracks forming where it stepped.

And all he could do was scream.