Shadow Seige

Chapter 11

The air in the camp felt suffocating, thick with tension and an unshakable sense of dread. Gregory stumbled into the firelight, his face pale and streaked with blood, his hands trembling violently. He looked like a man haunted by something far beyond words. His chest heaved, his breaths ragged, and his wild eyes darted around, as if the shadows themselves were watching.

"Where's Harris?" Leah asked, stepping forward.

Gregory didn't respond immediately. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Finally, he collapsed to his knees, shaking his head. "Gone," he whispered hoarsely. "It took him. I… I couldn't…"

The camp erupted. Survivors shouted over one another, questions and accusations flying.

"What do you mean, gone?"

"You left him?"

"What took him?"

Gregory's voice broke through the chaos, a fragmented, desperate plea. "I couldn't save him! It wasn't… it wasn't human." He buried his face in his hands, his body wracked with silent sobs.

"Harris said… he said, 'Don't trust the light.'"

The survivors fell into an uneasy silence. The crackling fire seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness, its light casting wavering, monstrous shadows on the surrounding trees. Somewhere in the distance, a faint whisper carried through the night, barely audible but chilling.

"Start from the beginning," Miriam said, her voice trembling but firm. "What happened out there?"

Gregory's bloodshot eyes met hers. He swallowed hard and began, his words halting and uneven. "We followed the scream. It was faint, but it was there, pulling us deeper into the forest. Harris… he kept saying we shouldn't go. He felt it too, that… wrongness. But I told him we couldn't just ignore it."

He paused, his gaze dropping to the ground. "We found… nothing at first. Just trees and shadows. But then we heard it again, closer this time. A voice, calling for help. Harris said it sounded… off, like it wasn't really human."

The survivors leaned closer, their faces pale in the firelight.

"And then it came," Gregory said, his voice a hollow whisper. "The shadows… they were alive. Not just moving - hungry. They crawled out of the ground like blackened veins, writhing and pulsating, their edges resembled jagged teeth. They lashed at Harris, not pulling him but tearing into him. His skin bubbled and blackened where they touched, peeling away in chunks. His screams… God, they weren't human. They sounded like something being flayed alive.

"They burrowed under his skin, forcing his veins to bulge and his flesh to ripple like something was trying to crawl out of him. He thrashed, his bones snapping one by one - his arms twisting backward, his ribs splintering through his chest. "His eyes…" Gregory's breath hitched. "They started bleeding. I swear, they were glowing - like something inside him was fighting to get out. He clawed at his own face, his nails raking bloody gashes down his cheeks, but the shadows were faster. His face… it contorted into something monstrous, his eyes wide and bloodshot before they burst. Black ooze dripped from the sockets, and still, he screamed. Then the shadows yanked him apart. Not whole - piece by piece. His arm first, the tendons stretching and snapping like worn cords, then his legs, his torso - until all that was left was the sound. Wet. Ripping. And his voice… fading into silence."

"You ran," Colton said coldly. "You left him."

Gregory flinched as if struck. "I couldn't do anything! It would've taken me too!" His voice cracked, and he looked around the group, desperate for understanding. "You don't understand. It's out there, watching us. Waiting. And it… it's learning."

Austin stood apart from the group, his back pressed against a tree at the edge of the camp. Gregory's words washed over him, but his focus was elsewhere. The paper in his pocket burned faintly, a cold, pulsing sensation that seemed to tug at his attention. He slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling it out. The faint blue markings on its surface shifted and glowed, like a symbol of some sort, almost as if trying to tell him something.

The arguments and panic faded into the background as Austin's gaze was drawn toward the forest. He didn't know why, but he felt compelled to move.

Quietly, he slipped away from the group, his steps careful and deliberate. The paper's glow grew stronger, guiding him to a spot just beyond the camp's boundary.

There, in the dirt, he found a scrap of fabric - Harris's shirt, torn and bloodied. The ground was marked with deep grooves, as if something had been dragged away. Austin's stomach turned, but he forced himself to keep looking. Claw marks gouged into a nearby tree confirmed Gregory's tale. Whatever had taken Harris was no ordinary predator.

The paper in his hand pulsed once more, then dimmed. Austin stared at it, a sinking feeling settling in his chest. Whatever this thing was, it wasn't done with them. His thoughts churned.

Don't trust the light… or the dark

What does it mean?

When Austin returned to the camp, the group was still in disarray. Colton's voice cut through the din. "We can't trust him. For all we know, he's leading them straight to us."

"And what do you suggest?" Leah shot back. Her voice was calm, but her eyes burned with intensity. "Throw him out? Leave him to die?"

"Better him than all of us," Colton retorted.

"Enough!" Gregory's voice was hoarse but commanding. He rose to his feet, his hands balled into fists. "You think I wanted this? You think I'm happy about what happened?" His gaze swept over the group, his expression a mix of anger and despair. "I did what I had to do to survive. And if you don't like it, then go out there yourself and see what's waiting for us."

The group fell silent, the weight of his words settling heavily over them. But unease lingered, the seeds of distrust taking root.

That night, the camp was on edge. Shadows seemed to loom larger, and the whispers - soft, barely audible, began to creep closer. Survivors huddled by the fire, clutching their makeshift weapons, their eyes darting nervously at every sound. The tension was suffocating, a palpable weight pressing down on everyone.

Austin couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching them. The paper in his pocket grew colder, its glow faint but steady. He glanced at Leah, who sat nearby, her face partially obscured by shadows. Her expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—fear, or perhaps guilt.

A sudden, bone-chilling wail pierced the night, freezing everyone in place. The fire flickered violently, and the shadows around them seemed to surge forward. Before anyone could react, a survivor near the edge of the group was yanked into the darkness with a blood-curdling scream. The others scrambled to their feet, their panic erupting into chaos.

Austin's hand tightened around the paper as it flared to life, its markings glowing bright blue. Ghostly symbols projected into the air, swirling and shifting. It pointed toward the forest, as if urging him to follow. But before he could move, an inhuman wail erupted from the shadows, and the darkness surged closer.

The survivors' screams mixed with the unearthly cries of whatever hunted them. Austin stood frozen, the glowing paper in his hand the only source of light against the encroaching darkness. As the shadows closed in, one thought burned in his mind:

This is only the beginning.