911: Story 911: The Cursed To 911: Story 911: The Cursed To Darkness swallowed the collapsing manor as Mira clutched the flesh-bound book to her chest.
The world around her warped, shadows stretching unnaturally, pulling her and Draven into an abyss of whispering voices.
Then—impact.
Mira gasped, her fingers scraping against cold stone.
A dim orange glow flickered ahead.
Draven groaned beside her, shotgun still in hand.
They were no longer in Lockwood Manor.
They were in a catacomb.
Rows of skeletal remains lined the walls, so still bound in ancient burial cloths, others propped against cracked tombstones.
The book in Mira’s grasp shivered, its pages turning by themselves.
Draven leaned closer, jaw clenched.
“What does it say?”
Mira’s voice was barely a whisper.
“A spell of resurrection… and servitude.”
The pages pulsed with burning runes, inked in sothing darker than re blood.
Then ca the first breath.
A corpse shifted in its niche, bones grinding together as hollow sockets glowed with unnatural hunger.
Another twitched, skeletal fingers flexing.
Draven aid his shotgun.
“I hate magic.”
The first corpse lunged, its bony jaws snapping inches from Draven’s throat.
The blast from his gun echoed through the crypt, shattering the undead thing into dust.
But more were waking.
Mira flipped pages frantically, searching for sothing—anything—to stop the rising dead.
The air humd with ancient power, the book feeding off the energy it had unleashed.
Then she saw it.
A na.
A single forbidden na, written in jagged scrawl, standing out among the cursed verses.
Elias Grimm.
The occult bartender.
The one who knew things.
Mira didn’t hesitate.
She spoke his na aloud.
The room lurched.
Shadows bent backward.
And then—he was there.
Elias Grimm stood among the carnage, one hand in his coat pocket, the other holding a glass filled with sothing that stead black.
His yellow eyes glowed like embers.
“Well,” he sighed, glancing at the twitching corpses.
“Looks like soone’s been reading books they shouldn’t.”
Draven shot a skeleton climbing from the floor.
“A little help?”
Elias smirked.
With a snap of his fingers, the shadows rippled, swallowing the corpses whole.
Silence fell.
The catacomb was still once more.
Mira’s fingers trembled over the cursed book.
“How do we stop it?”
Elias took a slow sip of his drink.
“Stop it?” He chuckled.
“Sweetheart, this book is tied to the Rotting King himself.
You don’t stop it.
You play its ga, or it plays you.”
Draven exhaled sharply.
“Great.
Another unwinnable fight.”
Elias shrugged.
“Not unwinnable.
Just…
costly.”
Mira t his gaze.
“And what’s the cost?”
Elias smiled, but his eyes darkened.
“The life of soone you’re not willing to lose.”
The crypt shuddered, and the book’s pages turned once more.
User Comments
0 comments from readers