Hundreds of years ago, a sinister cult known as the Clamt Cult emerged. They worshipped a malevolent entity called the Clamima, believing it would grant them immortality and dominion over the world in exchange for countless lives. If unleashed, the Clamima would sow chaos and destruction across the earth—and even the mere knowledge of its existence by the wrong person could trigger the same apocalyptic havoc it was born to unleash.
The cult's bloody rituals drew the attention of the authorities, and after countless lives were lost, they were eradicated. The Clamima's name faded into oblivion... until now.
The pawn shop was the kind of place most people passed without a second glance—its windows perpetually fogged, its sign hanging crookedly, its shelves cluttered with forgotten relics.
But to Evan Marrow, it was a treasure trove.
He pushed open the door, and a small bell jingled overhead.
"Back again?" the shopkeeper muttered from behind the counter. The old man had tired eyes and trembling hands that shook as he sorted through trinkets. "Didn't you clear out all my cheap stuff last time?"
"I wasn't satisfied with it," Evan said, scanning the shelves. "I feel like I missed something. Something keeps pulling me back."
His friends mocked him for collecting "junk," but Evan didn't care. One day, he'd find something extraordinary—something valuable enough to prove he wasn't just the "weird junk lover boy."
The old man chuckled, then coughed. "Young man, you're funny. All these are just junk. Trust me, junk doesn't call people back." He laughed again before returning to his newspaper. "Have fun finding your 'chosen item.'"
Evan wandered the shelves until something glinted in the dim light.
A ring.
It lay half-buried beneath an old jewelry box, its gold surface dulled by dust but still radiant. At its center, a red gemstone glowed faintly, like a drop of frozen blood.
He picked it up.
It felt unnaturally cold.
"How much for this?" Evan asked, holding it up.
The shopkeeper looked up—and for the first time, unease flickered across his weathered face.
"That ring?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Take it. Just take it."
Evan blinked. "For free?"
"It's brought me nothing but bad luck," the old man said, shaking his head. "I think it's why I'm about to shut this place down. I don't want it here anymore."
Bad luck. Old man superstitions, Evan thought.
He grinned. "Thanks!"
He slipped the ring into his pocket and practically skipped out the door.
At home, Evan placed the ring on his desk, admiring it in the sunlight. The gold looked genuine. The gem appeared rare, possibly priceless. This could be his big break.
He slid it onto his finger.
It was too large, but he didn't care. He felt like he'd found the jackpot.
"Nice," he grinned. "Real nice."
He turned his hand to catch the light—until the ring slipped.
"Whoa—!"
It hit the floor with a sharp clink. The red gem popped loose and rolled under the bed.
Evan groaned and reached down to retrieve it
The gem lay there, miraculously intact except for a tiny crack.
"Thank God," he muttered. "I won't let it get damaged—not after all this time searching."
He stood up. "This actually makes it easier to sell separately if I—"
He froze.
The air behind him turned ice-cold. Still.
As if something had entered the room without a sound.
Evan turned slowly.
Nothing.
"Get a grip," he muttered, remembering the shopkeeper's words.
He picked up the gold band and returned to his desk.
Then it began.
A thin wisp of black smoke seeped from the gem's crack. It curled around his fingers like
icy wind, whispering against his skin.
The smoke thickened, rising and coalescing into something tall. Something wrong.
A shadow darker than darkness itself stretched upward, forming the vague outline of an inhuman entity. Amber eyes glowed like embers in the void. Long, slender claws extended from its hands.
Evan stumbled backward knocking his chair over and tripping, heart hammering against his ribs.
He opened his mouth to scream—but no sound came.
The shadow leaned closer. Its mouth split open in a wide, unnatural grin.
SLASH.
The creature's claws raked across his chest. The ring and gem fell to the floor as Evan gasped, eyes widening in shock. He collapsed, blood pooling beneath him, spreading across the floorboards...
The creature left behind strange marks—dark, smoky imprints burned into the wooden floor, as if its very presence had scorched the room. Whatever happened to Evan, it was clear something unnatural had been there.
His body lay crumpled, shriveled and desiccated, as if his very soul and blood had been drained from him. His skin cracked like parched earth, claw marks raking across his chest in silent testimony to the horror.
By morning, news spread through the town like wildfire.
A thirteen-year-old boy had been found in his room under disturbing and unexplained circumstances, his body withered and marred by savage gashes.
The police couldn't reveal the gruesome details to the public. All they offered was a shaky statement claiming it might have been a "wild animal incident."
But no one believed that.
There hadn't been a bear sighting in the region for decades —let alone centuries. And how could an animal have slipped into a locked house without breaking anything? Nothing about the scene made sense.
Evan had died with his eyes frozen wide in terror, as if he'd glimpsed something beyond comprehension.
Officers whispered among themselves.
The door hadn't been forced.
And the burns—those inexplicable char marks on the wood and flesh—defied explanation.
The air inside the room had been unnaturally cold.
Some officers muttered about exposed wiring sparking a fire, but the evidence didn't align.
They tried to hide the details, but secrets never stay buried for long in small towns.
The townsfolk were stunned and uneasy.
People were confused, frightened.
Parents held their children closer.
Neighbors whispered behind closed curtains.
Whispers rippled through the streets: What is all this? Some dismissed it as rumor, perhaps a police ploy to frighten wayward kids. But then, Evan Marrow had never been a troublemaker.
And nothing about this felt normal....
Something ancient had stirred.
Something that had been waiting and it's hungry for more...
The Clamima had awakened.
Though no one knew its name… yet.
A chilling message slowly begins to appear at the crime scene igniting another fear.
"TRY ESCAPE THE END."