The small statue's wings rose high into the air, and the bleeding stump oozed across the hallway, flooding it with dark blood. Echoes of chanting voices swelled through the corridor like distant whispers of a forgotten cult.
Rose petals began to shed from the ceiling, drifting down like dying embers. Rosacer felt something wrong in his abdomen. A deep, twisting reverberation pulsed through him, as if something inside was trying to take root and grow.
His intuition flared.
He leapt forward, narrowly avoiding a withered, shriveled hand that jutted toward him like a snapping branch.
The flower-headed creature turned its gaze upon him, preparing another lunge, petals trembling violently. But before it could strike, a hound sprang onto its back, crashing into it with brutal force. The creature's dried tendrils whipped around, trying desperately to pin the canine down.
Dark blood flooded the hallway, and it had already climbed up to Rosacer's legs. Its viscosity was so thick that it felt like he was wading through a swamp of blood. He would have drowned in it if not for his earlier morphing into that barely human shape. His form was still small, shriveled, and slow because he could not focus, but at least it kept him above the surface.
He tried to drag himself forward, yet the dark blood kept pulling at him, clinging to his skin and chewing into his flesh.
The pain in his abdomen sharpened. When he looked down, he saw roots and thin twigs forming from his navel, twisting outward as if trying to take hold of him from the inside.
The hound struggled against the flower man. Small blossoms were budding across its skin, each one digging in and drinking greedily. It staggered back, whimpering from the sudden anaemia and the burning pain those flowers were causing. Its legs trembled as it tried to retreat further.
Before it could fall back any farther, a small figure stepped out from behind it. A lady, slight in frame yet strangely composed. Tendrils of bark and branching limbs burst forward from her back, lashing toward the flower man. They writhed like living roots, trying to engulf him entirely.
The flower man screeched as the lady's branching tendrils wrapped around its torso. Its petals flared open like a maw, scattering crimson dust that hissed on contact with her bark. The tendrils smoked, but she did not retreat. More branches burst from her arms, stabbing forward like spears.
The flower man twisted in a violent spiral. Its stem-like spine lengthened, pulling its upper body free before the branches could pierce its core. It lashed out with a whip-like vine, striking the lady across the face. The blow cracked her wooden cheek, yet she held her footing.
The hound, though weak and pale from blood loss, lunged at the flower man's side. Its fangs sank into the creature's stem, tearing out a chunk of fibrous flesh. The flower man shrieked again, petals trembling in agony. It retaliated, slamming a thick root into the hound's ribs. The animal collapsed but tried to rise, driven only by stubborn loyalty.
Seeing its attempt, the lady surged forward. Her branches wound around the flower man's limbs, tightening with sharp snaps of strain. She pulled, dragging the creature toward her. The flower man resisted, petals shedding like torn cloth, but she pressed on.
Its final counterattack came quick. A hidden thorned vine shot from beneath its cloak of petals, aiming straight for her abdomen. She twisted aside, but the vine grazed her waist, carving a deep groove through the bark.
The hound took its chance. With a guttural growl, it leapt once more and clamped onto the vine, holding it down with the last of its strength.
The lady seized the opening. Her branches coiled around the flower man's throat-like stem and squeezed. There was a brief, shuddering tremor. Then the flower man's petals wilted, its limbs slackening as she crushed the life from it.
The dark blood was now almost at waist level. Fea quickly used her vines to cover her hound and retreated inside the inner room. For a moment, she noticed a small child-like figure desperately trying to run, yet it was being held and slowly turned into a flowering pot.
Upon seeing that, a small pity appeared in her eyes, but she did not stop as she ran away, closing the way behind her.
She also dragged the hound with her vines along with her before sealing the way.
The hallway was covered with dark blood, and the stump was still bleeding, the chants growing louder. The flower man's body lay motionless. And meters away, in a similar fashion, a small body was slowly succumbing to stillness.
"I can't keep my eyes open..."
"Somebody help me... someone..."
Dark blood now streamed from Rosacer's mouth, eyes, and nose, slowly consuming him. Soon, the entire hallway was awash in it.
A painting shaped like a window shuddered, then burst outward, its wooden frame splintering as it fell onto the street below. From the torn canvas emerged a small woman, followed by a hound wrapped in trembling vines. They landed on the mist-filled street, their footsteps echoing sharply in the stillness.
For a moment, they paused. A chill ran up their spines.
Both turned toward the building, sensing something watching them from behind but the broken window was empty, the hallway silent.
Without speaking, they bolted forward, disappearing into the thick fog as if swallowed by it.
Far away, the fog thinned as morning arrived. A girl with ordinary features walked toward a bar, an unsheathed sword hanging loosely in her hand. Its edges looked dull and worn.
The mist curled around the sword, and when they touched its blade, it shifted oddly, revolving and sometimes rotating.
She brushed her thumb over the ring on her finger, its faint light flickering, then kicked the bar door open. The door shattered, sending splinters flying.
Inside, a man dressed in dark clothes sat alone. Purple flames flickered in his palm, bursting like faint fireworks.
She roared, "Where is Warren Dunn?!"
The man's smile sharpened the moment he saw her.