The hiss slithered through the air like a whispered threat.
Too quiet to be natural. Too cold for mere wind.
I whipped my head toward the sound, torchlight slicing the darkness in uneven arcs. But there was nothing—only the dancing of shadows along the floor, like fingers brushing the edge of reality.
Ronald stiffened beside me, his grip tightening on his torch. "Did you hear that?"
I nodded slowly. "Yeah. I heard it."
Then another hiss. Closer.
It wasn't just sound—it was presence. Heavy, curling, like invisible smoke trailing down our necks.
"What is that?" Ronald whispered, his voice trembling, eyes darting around as panic clawed at the edges of his composure.
"I don't know," I muttered, trying to steady the flickering beam in my shaking hands. The torchlight sputtered once. The shadows moved again—wrongly. Not swayed by our breath. Not stirred by wind.
They were moving on their own.
Movement.
Something slithered at the edge of my vision.
Something slithering.
Something massive.
A form emerged from the veil of darkness—majestic, terrifying, ancient. Its scales shimmered like obsidian under moonlight, and its eyes gleamed with a predatory calm.
A king cobra. Towering. Unnatural. Alive.
And behind it?
My gut clenched.
A horde.
Figures crawled out of the dark behind the serpent—groaning, twitching, staggering. Hollow eyes. Jawbones visible beneath sunken skin. Zombies. A lot of them.
All moving together. Unified. Controlled.
A dream?
No. A nightmare.
My grip on the flashlight tightened. My breath faltered.
"I hate this place," I muttered under my breath, unable to tear my eyes away.
I lunged for Ronald—his eyes were still drawn to the paintings. I grabbed him by the collar and yanked.
"Wha—?! Llyne?" he stumbled, confused.
No time.
We ran.
Out of the room.
"Why are we running, Llyne?" he asked, bewildered. "I didn't even get to admire their brushwork!"
"Art? Screw art! Don't you see what's chasing after us?!"
"Huh? What are you talkin'—"
He turned.
The cobra raised its head behind us. The zombies advanced, moaning in unified rhythm.
"Ack!! Why are we being chased by a King cobra—and zombies?! Wait… why do they look familiar?!"
"Maybe those people from the paintings came to life. Just like the zombie lady."
"Eh??? Why?!"
'Good question.'
'This isn't my cursed luck acting up… right?'
We ran harder. The floor blurred beneath our feet, and the corridor twisted like it was trying to trap us.
And then—
"Oui? There's something up ahead," I said, squinting through the flickering shadows. My voice was still half a wheeze. "Oh my~ Zombie lady, twelve o'clock."
There she was. Looming at the far end of the corridor like some rotten guardian of doom. Her dress was still torn and bloodied. Her jaw hung slightly ajar, swaying as she twitched. And worse—she was right in our path.
"Ah! It's the zombie lady! What do we do? We're getting closer to her—she might attack!"
I gave a crooked grin, wiping sweat from my brow. "Relax. If she sees the horde behind us, maybe she'll get mad enough to fight them. I mean, she wouldn't want her prey stolen, right?"
Ronald made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a dying mouse. "That logic is terrifying. I can't tell if I should feel relieved or not."
Before I could answer, she moved.
Her head jerked—an unnatural snap—and her gaze zeroed in on us. Hollow sockets locked onto our faces like radar.
And then she screamed—high, primal, rage-laced.
"Uh-oh," I muttered. "Plan B?"
"We had a Plan B?!" Ronald shouted, already backpedaling.
"Nope," I said, flashing a manic grin. "But I'm planning it as we go!"
"Isn't that, like, the worst time to make a plan?!"
"Too late—I've committed!"
She charged.
Her arms lunged forward, rotting fingers clawing at the air.
We ducked. Dodged.
Missed us by a hair.
We didn't look back.
"Wow. The horde powered up!" I huffed, struggling to keep my pace. My torch jiggled wildly in my hand, casting frantic shapes on the walls. "Feels like we just activated a boss rush."
"Wah! More of them are chasing us now!" Ronald shrieked, nearly tripping over his own feet.
"We're like celebrities on a hot date," I panted. "And those zombies? Paparazzi. With claws."
"Eh? I don't think reporters emit killing intent, though!" Ronald yelled, his face pure panic.
"And most importantly—how dare that zombie lady betray us?! I thought we had a connection!"
"She was never our ally in the first place, though," Ronald deadpanned.
"When I capture her, I'm going to give her a good spanking!" I declared, brandishing the torch like a sword.
Ronald let out a sigh, eyes fixed forward.
'Did she not hear a word I said?'
We kept running. The pursuit had turned into something out of a fever dream. Cobra. Zombie lady. Zombie horde.
It should've been impossible.
It felt inevitable.
Then—
"Look, a fork! How convenient," I pointed out as the corridor split. A decision, handed to us by fate in the middle of chaos.
"Ronald, left or right?!"
"Right!" he shouted.
We swerved. Our bodies leaned into the turn, boots skidding on the polished floor.
Behind us, the undead screamed.
Ahead—darkness.
The hallway stretched like elastic. The air grew heavier. Our chests heaved with the effort, sweat clinging to our skin. The sound of pursuit felt louder now, like the monsters were gaining ground.
"I thought it would be like those cartoons where there would be a secret passage after the fork, but there's none. Why?! Why is reality so different from a non-fiction book?!"
And then—
The ground disappeared.
For a moment, there was no weight. Just motion.
"Oh crap."
We fell.
The sound of wind rushing past drowned everything. The darkness swallowed us whole.
Then—impact.
Bang.
The world reasserted itself with a violent jolt. My back hit the stone. My limbs flailed. The air left my lungs in one sharp gasp.
Pain bloomed.
It wasn't enough to kill.
But enough to remind me that I wasn't dead yet.
I groaned, rolling onto my side.
Somewhere nearby, Ronald groaned too.
The void was absolute. A blanket of black, suffocating in its completeness.
No light. No movement. Just the echo of our fall and the faint pulse of my own heartbeat.