I don’t remember much of my life before the wagon train to execution. Everything is hazy, as if I had no existence until then. But the blade of a steel axe rising high above my head, I distinctly recall. The smell of copper dripping from the last poor bastard to kneel upon the stained wood beneath me. The stench of horses. Mud. Gravel. Brimstone. When fire unexpectedly exploded around us, raining in a torrent of deadly chaos....I felt something within me come alive. This fever, igniting, under my sizzling flesh. It filled my senses, rushing my veins like growling ecstasy. I ached with a knowledge I couldn’t grasp into words. But I can comprehend it vibrating in my bones. It is what whispers to me now as I drive my axe forward, striking soft pebbled scales in a frantic blow for survival. That consuming molten honey humming in my muscles, chanting ‘kin of my kin, blood of my blood’ , while massive sharp teeth snap and snarl at circling soldiers. My heart constricts, knowing...
It's trailing after me. Wherever it's coming from. That stupid eerie whistling noise. It's kind of like an old song...but not? Stupid old miner's house. Stupid ghost stories. Stupid cute boys... I should have known better than to take on the dare just to impress Josh. No matter how handsome the basketball player is, he isn't worth dying in a goddamn haunted shit hole for. I should have shrugged them off at the beach party. Should have watched how much I was drinking. Shouldn't have kissed those stupid soft lips. Sigh. Too late now. "Where is that coming from?!" I can't make out shit beyond shapes in this fucking place, and it's almost like someone is literally right behind me whistling that tune in some bad horror movie trope. Up the creaking steps. Down the worn dusty hallway. Past the numerous open ...