Marina, with pools streaming down her cheeks, dried velvet blood staining her lips, arms and hands, backed away to a corner screaming. Her back groaned in pain as she hit the wall.
"Please. . ." Her voice could not get any louder than a whisper, her lips violently trembling, some of her teeth lying on the floor like scattered bird seeds.
Across the room, her boyfriend Braheen lay dead, blood oozing out from the four holes on his stomach, punctures caused by very sharp claws.
"Please," Marina repeated, a little louder this time. She closed her eyes and waited for the creature crouching in front of her to kill her.
In her head, a mental seesaw: she wanted to live, but now that Braheen was dead, what was left for her to live for?
In the end, it didn't matter, because the decision wasn't up to her.
As the creature lunged at her, bit her neck and pulled out her tongue with its blackened teeth, Marina screamed, a sound that no one heard.
=====
The official police report would state that the case was a murder-suicide. A simple open-and-shut case that began as an argument between lovers and ended in a bloodbath.
Crimes like this did happen in Wontaria, but only very rarely, and definitely not as violent as this. Which was why this incident had been a surprise to the Wontaria Police, but probably not a big of a surprise than it should be.
After all, this happened in a decrepit village in Larthas, the poorest territory in Wontaria. Most of the residents from the village had moved out, and Marina and Braheen's house was situated at the very back. Their neighbors were more the wild animals living in the forest surrounding their house than other people.
There were a lot of details about the incident that did not add up to a murder-suicide, but the officers at the scene did not want any more paperwork and complications than the case presented. Besides, crimes like this were never random (or so it seemed). Certainly no one could have killed this couple besides each other.
As the crime scene was examined and investigated, the true killer of Marina and Braheen hid in the forest, feasting on a woodchuck. Who knew that getting into Wontaria was easier now that it--they--were getting stronger?
This unfortunate couple had been a test, a dummy experience to see how much they could do with their newfound strength and power.
Now, it was time to come for the big ones.
=====
It was five days before the kidnapping of King Heralla.
On this morning, five days before his life would change forever, Khamene woke up with a trail of drool from the corner of his lip down to his chin, an arm covering his eyes, still very much asleep. His mech-com (short for mechanical communicator, the equivalent of cellphones in our world) had rung four minutes ago, his alarm that was supposed to wake him up for his ten o'clock Wontarian history class.
A mediocre young man with mediocre grades, mediocre looks, and a mediocre ambition in life. Simply put, he had yet to know what to make of his life. His friends and relatives were convinced that he would follow in his father's footsteps and become the next king, maybe in ten or fifteen years.
After all, the Roztock Order all liked King Heralla, were all good friends with Khamene's father, and they ultimately decided who ruled Wontaria. Unlike in our world, royalty in the world of Roztock wasn't necessarily based on blood relations or ancestry, but it had proved time and time again that it was one of the biggest deciding factors, especially if the current king or queen in position had great leadership and care and admiration for the people. More often than not, the Roztock Order proved that their judgements were more correct than wrong when it came to electing royalty based on blood.
And so, while twenty-two year old Khamene was barely reaching average in terms of skills and appearance, the Roztock Order had him in their good sights, solely because King Heralla had been keeping good relations with all nine members. Perhaps the king was genuinely a kind and affable man, perhaps he wanted his son to be the next one to rule over Wontaria.
His true intentions were still up for debate, and his honesty--or lack thereof--would cause the first crack in the brittle surface of Wontaria. . . and the whole of Roztock.
An evil was deep in slumber, a fetus that fed on fear, anxiety, uncertainty, all of which King Heralla was causing to his people. It was only a matter of time before it would awaken.
But that would not happen for five more days.
That did not mean, however, that the evil wasn't already in the works.
For now, King Heralla's son was still sprawled on his bed, slowly coming to his senses and opening his eyes now, but sleep deprivation still clung to him like a parasite.
For the past week, Khamene had been studying for his classes. It was nearing the end of the semester, and all of his professors were handing out quizzes and exams left and right.
It also did not help that some nights, he would stay up late to play the newest Argoranth game with Ron. Such actions would be condemned by the Roztock Order, but they were too busy getting manipulated by King Heralla's seemingly innocuous smiles and kindness.
Finally, Khamene opened his eyes, eyelids heavy, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. His roommate Kally must have turned the air-conditioning off again sometime in the night.
Khamene groaned, irritated, making a mental note to once again speak to Kally about it, to tell him to turn the AC back on when he was about to leave. Kally was a Ponthar, a hybrid that was half-human and half-creature. Khamene knew that Ponthars weren't really suitable for cold temperatures, as their bodies uncontrollably adjusted by their golden fur growing thickly, their claws turning into talons, their faces extending into beaks that could pierce through skin even with minimal force.
"Damn it, Kally," Khamene said, burrowing his face onto a pillow.
Eyes closed, the blackness that he saw suddenly turned crimson red. A figure vaguely formed in this pool of vibrant red that looked like viscous blood. It was uncannily shaped like a human, but a voice in Khamene's head told him that this was no human, or any citizen of Wontaria.
The shape remained in the middle of what he was seeing, when two circles formed on the upper part of its head, two glowing red orbs. Together with its formation, the appearance of large batlike wings.
Unbeknownst to him, Khamene's shoulders visibly started shaking, terrified of the figure that he was seeing.
I'm dreaming again, he told himself, not quite believing it.
The shape floating in the pool of blood--because Khamene was now convinced that it was blood--only stared at him. A beat passed when a third hole opened up below the shape's two eyes.
It was a mouth, a red gaping crater, a red scream.
Khamene wanted to scream but couldn't, couldn't even move his lips from fright.
Then, a hand on Khamene's shoulder. Eyes wide, he turned, gasping, sweat making his shirt cling to his back. His vision was still blurry, and it took a few moments for the colors to come together. For a second or two, he was certain that it was the dark figure he had just seen coming to life, about to kill him in his dorm room.
But then everything was clear, and it was only Ron. "Are you seriously still sleeping?" he asked.
"W-what?" Khamene's lower lip was trembling.
Ron's hand dropped from Khamene's shoulder to his side. His eyebrows came together in confusion. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah." Khamene swallowed. His tongue was dry. "Just a bad dream. How did you get in?
Ron cocked a thumb towards the door. "It wasn't locked."
Damn it, Kally, Khamene repeated in his head.
Ron looked at his watch. "Professor Midcalm cancelled class today. I was trying to call you to tell you about it, but you weren't picking up."
"Oh." That was all Khamene could say. He was still disoriented and unsettled by the sight of the mysterious figure visiting him in his dream.
Was it actually a dream?
"You seem to be tired," Ron said. "You can sleep for a few more hours. Sorry for waking you."
"No, it's fine. Uh, let's go get breakfast." Ron stood up with jelly legs. Right now, he didn't want anything else but to go back to sleep, but he was afraid that he would see that figure again.
Of course, he had had nightmares before, but that shape floating in the pool of blood had seemed real. . . had felt real.
Ron watched him, forehead wrinkled. "Are you sure?"
Khamene nodded. He was hungry now, anyway. He looked out the window. His room faced the courtyard. Trees lined the outer edge of the area, a marble fountain placed in the center of the green square. Students sprinkled the yard, some sitting or lying directly on the grass, others on a cloth conversing and having picnics this bright morning.
"Let's go." He turned to Ron, then went to the dresser across his bed to grab a fresh pair of trousers and a simple white shirt. So he wouldn't look so disheveled and zombie-like, he took out his black leather vest at the last second.
Had Khamene looked a little closer at the trees, he would have seen a Skullor staring at him, its dark and frail body hidden by a large tree. Its eyes had pushed out of its head for the first time in decades, so that he would watch King Heralla's son. The Skullor stood seven feet tall, practically just skin and bones now. Still, Skullors were very good at remaining unseen.
How a Skullor was able to leave the Deadland and break through the borders of Wontaria was still unknown to everyone else in Roztock. Skullors were becoming more fearless, more brazen, and it was all thanks to the growing power of their god. They could feel its vibrations getting stronger, the core of Roztock slowly but steadily opening to give birth to their god of destruction.
Only the inhabitants of the Deadland knew what was going to happen, what was already happening.
Soon enough, everyone would know.