The world has changed a lot in these past thirty years, and since then, some inevitable processes have begun—bringing nothing but blood, pain, hardship, and the slow march toward an eventual demise.
In this unraveling world, certain new entities had risen. Some gave life, others devoured it, and a few, as archaic as the universe itself—binding humanity closer than ever, though they could only delay the inevitable.
Somewhere in this reckoning land, in a cramped food storage facility, the night sky looked as dull as a forgotten memory—stripped of stars, barren of the shimmer of distant galaxies.
A girl, barely sixteen or seventeen, peered at this muted view through a crack no larger than a keyhole, from within a dark, rotting room even bleaker than the monotone, starless sky.
Her name was Taya. She wore a long black Renaissance cloak that draped over her entire body, from head to toe. Patches of golden-brown dust clung to the fabric, lending it a sun-scorched, tanned appearance. Several torn edges gave the garment the weary, battered look of a relic long past its prime.
Beneath her cowl, a black headscarf concealed every strand of her hair, throwing into stark relief the porcelain pallor of her skin—a beauty that could rival most. But it was her eyes that held the true spell: pupils laced with a bluish-green tinge, so that in the light of day they could gleam like brilliant jewels. Yet her beauty was marred; her frame was frail, her face etched by dehydration, her cheeks hollowed as though she had been starved for weeks.
But it was not just her. Several other girls were trapped in that same suffocating room, a dozen fearful thoughts unraveling in their minds. All of them were of similar age to her. And yet, the question lingered—why were they here?
Suddenly, the door slammed open, and a yellowish-crimson glow spilled into the room, staining the walls with dread.
"Hurry up, you numbskulls! Bring the slaves in, tie them up, and blindfold them. The real fun is about to begin," barked a man of massive build.
He strode in with two lackeys at his side, all three clad in black tracksuits. Nothing about them spoke of good intentions.
A large container vehicle pulled up outside, its back shutter creaking open. Within yawned an endless dark void—like the very embodiment of corruption, malice, and lust.
"Leave us alone! Have pity!" one girl cried, her voice breaking in protest. But one of the thugs, a brute with a hulking frame, simply yanked her to the ground and dragged her away.
"Hey, big guy," the leader smirked, "treat them like that and they won't even last the first few guests. Be gentle, would you?" His laughter rang out, manic and cruel.
Taya watched it all. The cries, the begging, the ropes binding their wrists, the filthy rags gagging their mouths. It had been three days since they were locked in that tiny storage cell—three days of hunger, exhaustion, and despair. Clearly, it was deliberate. Break their bodies, break their wills. By the time they were shipped off like cattle, resistance would be impossible.
But inside Taya, something stirred. Anger boiled hot in her veins. Her eyes narrowed with determination. She had lived her entire life in hiding. Her parents had died before she could walk. She had been raised in shadows, cared for by her blind grandmother—the last soul she loved. And when death claimed even her, Taya was forced into the world with nothing but her father's diary, wandering the streets until these vultures captured her.
She later discovered she was not alone. Others had been taken, too.
Now, as the fury swelled within her, her eyebrows twitched, her head trembled ever so slightly, strands of hair shifting as though alive.
"What's with that face, pretty girl?" The leader stepped toward her.
He stared, and for the briefest moment, unease flickered in his eyes—an attraction laced with fear.
"You will leave us alone," Taya said, her voice calm but edged with steel.
The man sneered. "What's that, slave?"
"I said you will leave us alone… or you will regret it."
Laughter erupted. The leader bellowed, his lackeys joining in chorus.
"You've got guts, girl. A feisty one." His grin twisted. "Oh, I don't want you ruined by those bastards. No—you'll be mine." He licked his lips.
He reached for her cowl.
A hiss sliced through the tense air—sharp, alien.
"What was that?" the lackeys muttered. But the leader ignored them, stepping closer until he loomed before her.
Taya kept her head lowered.
"Let me see that face," he growled, gripping her chin, forcing it upward.
"Take your hands off me, bastard."
"Oho, sharp tongue," he chuckled darkly. "Now… let's see what you're hiding."
"Don't do it," Taya warned. She knew she was weaker than these men—humanly, she could not win. But she had never been ordinary. She carried something far more dangerous. A curse. One that could twist life into eternal stillness.
The thug raised his hand to strip away her cowl. She caught his wrist, straining every ounce of her fragile strength.
"This is your last chance," she hissed. "Back off now… and live."
But he only laughed, forcing the fabric upward.
"Close your eyes!" Taya shouted to the girls. Panic sharpened her voice into command. They obeyed at once, shielding themselves from what was to come as they couldn't stare the cruelity that was going to be unfolded by these vultures. The thugs, however, only sneered—oblivious to the doom uncoiling before them.
And then it happened, her scarf slipped free, Her eyes darkened into two endless voids. Her hair stirred, then writhed—dozens of serpents bursting into life, their emerald eyes burning with venomous hunger. They hissed, a chorus of ancient malice, and the glow of their gaze sank into the thugs' hearts.
Terror froze them where they stood. Their laughter died in their throats. Coldness spread through their veins, stone creeping up their bodies until even their eyes turned dull, as two lifeless orbs.
"Do not open your eyes until I say," Taya whispered.
When the girls finally dared to look, three statues stood before them—grim monuments to cruelty, now petrified for eternity.