Ethan didn't remember coming down the mountain. One moment he had been standing at the summit, the wind screaming around him, and the next he was walking through snow that felt strangely distant beneath his feet. Each step crunched softly, yet the sound seemed muted, as if the world had been wrapped in something thick and unseen. His body moved on its own, steady but disconnected, like he was following a command he couldn't hear.
"Find it."
The voice came without warning.
Ethan stopped, his breath fogging in the cold air. "…Find what?" he muttered, scanning the empty white around him. There was no response for a moment, and then the voice returned, calm and absolute.
"A discontinued sparkling water."
Ethan frowned. "What kind of"
A sharp pain cut through his body.
It wasn't gradual. It wasn't familiar. It was immediate and violent.
A crack echoed inside him.
Ethan froze, his eyes widening. "What the hell…?"
Another crack followed, louder this time, deeper. His knees buckled as he dropped into the snow, his hands digging into the frozen ground as if trying to hold himself together.
Then it started.
His bones began to shift.
Not metaphorically. Not subtly.
Physically.
Crunch.
The sound came from inside him, raw and wet and horribly real. Ethan gasped, his body trembling violently as something within him began to rearrange itself. His spine arched unnaturally, muscles tightening and releasing in painful waves.
"Stop…" he whispered, his voice breaking.
Crunch.
It spread through him—his ribs, his shoulders, his legs—like something was rebuilding him piece by piece, forcing his body into a shape it wasn't meant to take.
"STOP!"
The scream tore out of him, echoing across the empty mountains.
Then everything went black.
When Ethan woke, his face was pressed into the snow. The cold hit him first, sharp and grounding, followed by a strange awareness of his own body. He pushed himself up slowly, expecting pain, expecting resistance—but it wasn't there. Not in the way it had been before.
Something had changed.
He flexed his fingers, then his leg. It responded instantly, smoothly, almost too perfectly. The sensation wasn't relief.
It was unfamiliar.
His gaze lifted—and he froze.
Ahead of him, lights flickered through the snowfall.
A building.
Small. Isolated.
A resort.
Ethan blinked, his mind struggling to catch up. It shouldn't be there. Not this far into the mountains. Not in a place like this.
But it was.
And for reasons he couldn't explain, he started walking toward it.
The closer he got, the warmer the light felt. Yellow, soft, human. It pulled him in, cutting through the cold and the lingering unease inside him. By the time he reached the entrance, he didn't hesitate.
He stepped inside.
The heat hit him immediately, thick and almost suffocating. The air smelled faintly metallic beneath the warmth, something subtle but wrong. Behind the counter stood an old man, thin and still, his eyes fixed on Ethan the moment he entered.
"I need something," Ethan said.
The man didn't answer right away. He simply watched him, his expression unreadable. "…What?" he asked after a pause.
Ethan hesitated for only a second. "Sparkling water."
The reaction was small, almost imperceptible—but it was there. The man's gaze shifted slightly before returning to Ethan.
"We don't sell that."
Ethan stepped closer. "It's here."
Another pause.
"…Not for customers."
The silence that followed felt heavier than it should have. Ethan's chest tightened slightly as something inside him stirred again—not pain this time, but pressure. A warning.
"I need it," he said.
His voice sounded different. Not louder, not harsher, but heavier somehow, like it carried something behind it.
The man noticed.
"…Why?"
Ethan didn't answer. He couldn't.
Another faint crack echoed inside him.
The man flinched.
Then, quietly, he spoke. "…Go around. Back side. Storage."
That was all.
Ethan turned without another word.
The snow behind the resort was untouched. Too clean. Too still. The kind of stillness that didn't belong in a place like this. Ethan moved carefully, his steps slower now, his senses sharper.
Then the smell hit him.
Metallic.
Rotting.
Cold.
His stomach tightened as he rounded the corner.
And then he saw it.
People.
Not working.
Suffering.
Their bodies were red and raw, skin pressed against ice that clung to them like it was alive. Their hands shook as they filled bottles, sealed them, stacked them in neat rows. Some of them could barely stand, their movements slow and mechanical, like they had been reduced to something less than human.
Sparkling water.
Ethan staggered back, his breath catching. "What the hell is this…?"
One of them looked up.
Their eyes were empty.
Not pleading. Not angry.
Just… gone.
A sound came from behind him.
Slow.
Heavy.
Ethan turned.
It stood there.
Tall. Twisted. Wrong.
Its shape didn't hold properly, like it couldn't decide what it was supposed to be. And yet, its gaze locked onto him with terrifying clarity.
Then it moved.
Fast.
Ethan ran.
The forest blurred around him as he pushed forward, snow snapping under his boots, branches tearing against his arms. His breath came fast, sharp, burning his lungs, but he didn't stop.
Behind him, something followed.
Heavy. Relentless. Closing in.
Too fast.
He stumbled, his foot catching on uneven ground, and crashed into the snow. Pain flared briefly, but he forced it down as he pushed himself up.
"Move," he muttered.
The creature was already close.
Too close.
Ethan's eyes darted around, searching, desperate.
Then he saw it.
A branch.
But not normal.
Sharp. Narrow. Almost shaped like a stake.
He grabbed it.
The creature lunged.
Ethan didn't run.
He stepped forward.
And drove the branch straight into it.
The impact was solid. Real.
The creature let out a sound that didn't belong to anything alive, its body convulsing as Ethan pushed harder, forcing the stake deeper.
With a final surge of strength, he twisted and threw it back.
The creature collapsed into the snow.
Still.
Silent.
Ethan stood there, breathing hard, his hands shaking uncontrollably.
Then everything went dark.
When he woke again, it was warm.
Too warm.
Ethan's eyes opened slowly.
A ceiling.
Familiar.
His room.
City lights glowed faintly through the window.
No snow. No mountain. No blood.
Just silence.
He sat up slowly, his mind racing.
"…What?"
Everything felt normal.
Too normal.
Then he saw it.
His arm.
A mark.
White.
An X.
Burned clean into his skin.
Ethan stared at it, his pulse quickening.
Then the voice returned.
"Good."
Silence followed.
Ethan clenched his fist.
Because deep down, he already knew.
That wasn't a dream.
And whatever this was It had only just begun.