Ren tried to sleep, but something kept him awake—a constant buzz that rang through his mind every time he closed his eyes. The tighter he squeezed them shut, the louder it grew. He slammed the side of his fist into the rock out of frustration.
"How long has it been…"
Pushing himself to his feet, Ren stepped out into the dark forest.
Time was impossible to measure here—the swirling crimson sky above, the blackened trees, the cold breeze. Nothing here ever changed.
He pulled his cloak tighter around himself, warding off the chill as he searched for anything forgeable.
Rusted scraps. Dead leaves. Bits of bone. Shredded cloth. Something of use. After what felt like hours, Ren returned to the cave, clutching a bundle of half-rotten debris and brittle herbs. But something was different inside.
Something was wrong now…
He hesitated to step past the stone threshold, drawing his rusted dagger.
And then—
SQUISH
A wet, tearing noise echoed from deep within the cave. Followed by a low, choking wail.
It sounded somewhat like an infant. A crying baby—gurgling and desperate.
"Help…help me…Mama…Mama…pwease…"
Ren's chest tightened. It was wrong. All of it was wrong. That sound didn't belong here.
"It's…"
"Mama…help me…"
"It's close…"
The cry for help was clear. Yet, Ren couldn't see anything.
The voice seemed to stay just far enough out of view to remain unseen.
Then, the cave trembled.
A horrible cracking echoed from deeper within—like ribs snapping open.
From the darkness, a slug-like shape slithered into view, its form wrong in every conceivable way. Its chest was an open cage, stretched outward as if torn apart from the inside. Mutilated bone and flesh were fused together, as though stolen from other living things. Long limbs dragged behind it, twitching erratically. It had no mouth, and no eyes. It moaned again—that infant-like gurgle drilling into Ren's senses.
He took a step back.
Then another—
CRACK
A familiar groan came beneath his feet. A weakened corpse. Ren flinched, nearly falling over as he stumbled back. The corpse twitched, a hand scraping weakly at the ground, as if begging for some form of help.
That slug-like thing dragged itself forward—not with legs. But with arms. Dozens of them. Pale and rotted. Some thin and skeletal, others swollen and twisted. None of them were its own. They had been stolen—ripped from other corpses and grafted onto its body in an abomination of flesh and bone. Then, it passed over the groaning corpse. There was no sound but a sickening squelch as the body vanished beneath it. The creature's ribbed, pulsating center expanded, sucking the corpse inside like a blood to a leech.
Ren's turned to flee—but it was too late.
A hand—no, an entire arm—lashed out like a whip and wrapped around his left forearm, crushing the bone beneath. It wouldn't let go. And Ren screamed, wrenching backward with all his strength. He stabbed at the arm repeatedly, but it didn't matter. It was dragging him in…
So, he made the only choice he could think of.
Ren clenched his teeth, and with a ragged gasp, raised the dagger and turned the blade toward himself.
SQUELCH
He drove it down.
Again, and again, and again...
Blood sprayed. Bone cracked. Flesh flayed. Until his arm came free.
The lost arm retracted back into the slug's core.
Ren cried out as blood poured from his shoulder socket.
"Mama!"
He didn't look back.
"Mama!"
He didn't wait.
"Mama!"
Bursting from the cave, Ren sprinted back into the forest, clutching the ruined stump of his arm.
'Run! Run! Just run! Don't think! Not now!'
And then—
THUD
His foot caught on something, hitting the ground hard, unable to catch himself with the one arm he had left.
"Child…"
He turned toward the voice.
One of the bodies that had hung from the trees was now on the forest floor, its head twisted horizontally.
"Child, listen…" It rasped. "She's in...inside every…everything. She sees through you...You must—"
Then, its arm snapped upward.
CRACK
Its hand drove straight through its jaw and out through its skull. The body convulsed on the ground, then fell silent.
Behind him—
A presence...
Ren turned to see a figure. It wasn't whole. It wasn't fully physical. But it was in the shape of a woman, tall and graceful. Draped in a dress that drifted like smoke. Where her face should have been was only a void. Her hands stretched toward him. She did not speak aloud. Rather, her voice slipped into him like a whisp.
'Poor little soul...' She murmured. 'Why do you reject me?'
"It's…" Ren whispered.
That voice. It was the same voice—the one that had tormented him all this time.
She glided closer, her form hovering over the ground.
'You could be free…' Her shadowed fingers brushed his cheek. 'A place without pain...A place you belong…Where you are loved.'
The forest flickered, and suddenly—he was somewhere else.
A home. Warmth had surrounded him. The scent of baked bread and old wood wrapped around him like a blanket.
In the kitchen, a mother and father swayed together, laughing along to a song only they could hear.
In the living room, four children giggled on the rug, eyes bright with life and smiles effortless.
And at the center stood an older boy.
Grey hair.
Silver eyes.
Soft, pale-like skin untouched by scars.
It was Ren. Not broken, nor bleeding.
He was whole. Alive…
He laughed as the children tackled him, shouting his name like it was the sun.
"This…isn't real," He whispered, tears spilling out. "This can never be real."
'But it could be...This could be your new life...'
Ren clenched his fists, tears dripping onto the floor.
He stepped toward the kitchen, past the living room, and that was when they noticed.
The children. The other Ren. All of them stared at him—like something had ruptured. Like he didn't belong.
The woman in the kitchen turned toward him.
"Sweetheart?" She asked softly. "Hungry? Well, the stew still has quite some time left."
The other Ren's eyes widened as he watched—knowing.
"Come on," She coaxed. "What's wrong?"
She opened her arms, seemingly ready to embrace to saddened child.
Without a word—Ren ran to her arms.
'It's warm...'
Ren stayed there for a moment, comforted by the woman's touch.
But the warmth wasn't comfort, or some false body heat.
Ren stepped back from the woman, unable to meet her gaze.
"Why..." She gasped, her eyes going hollow.
A stab wound to her heart.
Blood dripping from his dagger.
Cracks spread across her face like porcelain, splintering outward from the wound.
The warmth had vanished. Shadows bled into the room. The family dissolved out. And the house collapsed into nothing.
Then—the forest snapped back into place, cold and suffocating.