A young man lay sprawled on a worn, narrow bed in a cramped, stale room that smelled faintly of disinfectant and rusted metal. The tubes hooked to his nose hissed softly, oxygen feeding his failing lungs with every labored breath. His eyes were dull, glassy like the eyes of the dead, only flickering with a single, stubborn spark.
Cancer had devoured him from the inside out. His once lively limbs were skeletal now, his face gaunt and hollow. There was no family to keep him company, no friends to whisper comforting lies that everything would be all right. Only the pale walls, the dripping faucet, and the steady hiss of his oxygen tank bore witness to his final hours.
He shivered beneath a threadbare blanket that did nothing to chase away the chill.
"It's so cold…"
"So damn cold…"
The words scraped from his throat in a dry, trembling voice. He wondered absently if he would live to see the next dawn—but the thought seemed more distant with every heartbeat.
The ceiling above him swam, a shifting canvas of cracks and water stains. Then, without warning, the edges of his vision turned black. It was as though darkness had bled from the corners of his eyes, creeping inward until the last flicker of light was swallowed whole. He felt like he was drowning in his own body—lungs refusing to work, chest convulsing.
Panic welled up inside him, but it was as weak as the rest of him. With what little strength remained, he forced himself to sit up, his thin arms trembling under his own weight. His head lolled back, eyes rolling upward.
When he opened them again, the hospice room was gone.
---
Darkness surrounded him a vast, stifling void. Faint candlelight flickered at the edge of his vision, struggling to hold back the oppressive shadows. The air smelled old, like damp stone and cold wax.
Standing before him were three figures draped in heavy black robes. Their faces were hidden inside deep hoods, only their pale, clasped hands visible in the glow of the candles arranged around them.
Their voices broke the silence low, echoing, yet strangely understandable to him, though he was certain they spoke in a tongue he had never learned.
"Another failed summoning?"
"It seems so. Yesterday it was a frog. Now, a boy on the brink of death."
"What shall we do with him?"
"Feed him to the devils. Let them gnaw on his bones."
The words dug into him like needles. Ryz could understand every word they said, yet it felt like listening through water warped but clear enough to know they were not here to save him.
His lips parted to speak, to beg for mercy perhaps, but the words died in his throat. His body was too frail to fight, too spent to plead.
One of the hooded figures stepped closer, lifting his arms as if in prayer. The air thickened, vibrating with a strange energy that made the candles tremble.
"Death is a new beginning."
"All pain, all suffering, shall be exchanged for power."
"O Keeper of the Threshold guardian of life and death we offer you this boy. May he sate your endless hunger."
They spoke the last words three times. Each repetition echoed in his mind, louder than the last, until it drowned out the frantic beat of his heart.
Behind them, the darkness split open. A massive stone door appeared, impossibly large and carved with shifting symbols that seemed to crawl across its surface. It was cold yet pulsing with something ancient, hungry.
Hands reached out from the stone skeletal, long-fingered, their skin the color of rotting parchment. They clamped onto Ryz's arms and legs before he could flinch, their touch cold as a grave. He couldn't move, couldn't scream, as the hands dragged him toward the door.
The last thing he heard was his own voice a rasping gasp before the door swallowed him whole.
"Arghh!"
Pain ripped through his bones, searing and freezing all at once.
Then silence.
---
He woke up curled on a floor of jagged stone, the ground rough against his skin. The air smelled of sulfur and something burnt, yet there was a chill that dug beneath his skin.
Glowing rivers of lava flowed in the distance, snaking through cracks in the dark rock. Their dim red light was the only thing that held back the complete darkness. The heat from the molten stone should have burned him alive, but instead, the cold lingered in his veins.
Ryz dragged himself upright, shoulders hunched, eyes wide as he took in this alien place. Was this hell? A dream? Or the final hallucination before death?
Nearby, he noticed something slumped against a boulder a corpse, or what looked like one. Its skin was an unnatural mix of red and black, veins bulging like worms beneath the surface. Its face was torn open, as if something had clawed at it until there was nothing left but ruined flesh.
"What… is this place?"
His stomach cramped violently. He realized, with a strange detachment, that he hadn't eaten since yesterday if it was even yesterday anymore. Hunger gnawed at him, sharp and primal. He staggered closer to the corpse, the stench of blood and decay curling around him.
His mind recoiled, but something deeper urged him on. Shaking, he tore a chunk of flesh from the body. The taste was metallic, oily, revolting yet with each bite, the gnawing emptiness in his gut eased, replaced by a warmth that spread slowly through his limbs.
"It doesn't… taste that bad."
The words slipped out between mouthfuls as if to justify what he was doing. He devoured the flesh, each swallow stirring a sick rush of strength inside him.
Then, behind him, a sound drifted through the cavern a low, guttural laugh that cracked like dry bones.
"Kekekeweke…"
Ryz froze. Every hair on his neck stood on end. The sound was wrong somewhere between a laugh and a growl. He didn't understand it, yet it made something primal inside him scream run.
Don't look back. Never look back.
He remembered every horror movie he'd watched as a boy monsters that whispered your name from the dark. He'd always known what not to do.
Don't turn around.
Just run.
His mind hissed at him, but his body felt… different. Stronger. He pushed himself to his feet, realizing with a start that the deep ache in his lungs had dulled, the weakness that had chained him for so long already fading.
No time to wonder why.
He bolted, bare feet slapping the cold rock. He could hear it behind him heavy, wet footsteps, claws scratching stone.
Don't look back. Don't look back.
A jagged boulder appeared ahead. He spotted a narrow crack at its base just wide enough for someone like him, thin and half-starved. He had no idea what hunted him, or how big it was.
Doesn't matter.
He dove headfirst into the gap.
"Swish!"
The stone scraped his shoulders raw, but he squeezed through. When he was sure he wouldn't be dragged out by whatever waited outside, he risked a glance back.
In the wavering red glow, he saw a beast that looked like a nightmare stitched from half-remembered fears. Its fur was white, matted with filth, drool dripping from a maw lined with yellowed fangs. Four eyes glowed crimson in the darkness.
"Thank God… it can't fit."
His chest heaved as he pressed deeper into the crevice. He looked down at his hands no tremor, no blue-tinged skin. His breath came easily.
"That… meat… did this?"
A clawed hand, big as his head and tipped with black talons, scraped into the crack, narrowly missing him. He flinched back, heart pounding so violently he thought it might burst.
"M-missed me by an inch…"
His voice trembled, but there was wonder there too. He could move. He could breathe.
He forced himself to crawl deeper. The tunnel widened after a few meters, opening into another cavern lit by slow-moving rivulets of lava.
But the nightmare outside hadn't followed. Its growls faded as the tunnel curved away.
---
Further inside, the passage split into a larger chamber. He pressed himself behind a rock as new sounds met his ears wet snarls, claws on stone.
Two more creatures circled each other in the flickering light. They looked like the corpse he had eaten skin a swirl of red and black, muscles like cords of living metal. Their faces were grotesque masks of twisted flesh, eyes burning with a hungry red light.
Devils…like they said.
He held his breath as one lunged, its fingers stretching and splitting into blade-like talons. The other countered with a roar, claws flashing in a blur. Flesh tore, blood sprayed in steaming arcs.
A tail of flame lashed out from one, searing the cavern wall. The other darted through the blaze, ramming its claws deep into its rival's throat. A choked gurgle echoed. The victor hissed, steam rising from fresh wounds.
Ryz pressed further into the shadows, mind racing. His legs trembled, refusing to obey him.
Get up… move…
The surviving devil turned, crimson eyes locking onto him. Ryz's breath caught in his throat.
In the blink of an eye, it vanished reappearing inches away, talons raised.
But its eyes flickered. It swayed, blood gushing from a wound in its gut. It dropped to its knees, claws scraping the rock.
Then, to his horror, it began to drag its finger through its own blood, scratching symbols into the stone floor. Ryz watched as the lines formed words he could not read yet somehow understood.
Eat my flesh. Devour my brain. Drink my blood.
The creature finished the last stroke, then crumpled beside its own writing, dead before it hit the ground.
Ryz felt his mouth go dry.
"No way…"
But the hunger was back sharp, greedy. He remembered the warmth that had filled him after the first corpse.
"This place wants me to become like them…"
He knelt beside the body, staring into its ruined face. "No choice…"
He tore off a strip of flesh, the taste bitter and hot. He ate, tearing chunks with teeth that felt too sharp, too eager. Blood ran down his chin, dripping onto the cavern floor.
When he cracked open the skull with a stone, the brain pulsed as though it still lived. He bit down, the warmth of it burning his throat.
He felt his senses sharpen. The ache in his chest was gone now replaced by a low, steady hum that pulsed through his bones.
But as he licked his fingers clean, the world lurched. A sharp, splitting pain stabbed into his skull, blooming like a thousand needles.
"Arghh!"
He clutched at his head, the darkness rushing back in. He collapsed beside the broken corpse, breath ragged, eyes rolling back.
As he slipped into the void again, a single thought echoed in the hollows of his mind.
What am I becoming?