Raine looked between the trees uneasily. Every shadow suddenly seemed deeper than it had a few minutes ago. "Let's get out of here, guys," she said. "It's... it's creeping me out."
Ysa crossed her arms. "Or..."
Raine immediately turned to her. "No. No 'or.'"
Ysa blinked. "You don't even know what I was gonna say."
"I do," Raine said flatly. "And the answer is no."
A grin tugged at the corner of Ysa's mouth.
Yve sighed. "Ysa, we are not going hunting."
Ysa looked at her. "Why not?"
"Because we don't know how powerful this creature actually is."
Ysa raised an eyebrow. "Didn't all those books you read say something about it?"
"Of course they did," Yve replied. "But reading about something and actually being in a fight with it are two very different things, you know?"
Ysa opened her mouth.
Raine cut in before she could speak. "Guys..." she said, rubbing her forehead. "Can we not do this right now?"
Both sisters looked at her.
"Let's just go back and inform the others. We need to make sure everyone knows." Her expression tightened slightly. "Especially the humans."
Yve nodded immediately. "Good idea." Then she glanced sideways at Ysa. "At least someone's being meticulous."
Ysa rolled her eyes so hard it almost looked painful. "Oh, please."
Raine exhaled in relief.
For once, neither sister argued further.
The three of them turned toward the direction of the compound and began making their way back through the forest.
But despite the conversation ending, none of them relaxed.
Every snapped twig made them look twice. Every patch of shadow felt occupied.
And more than once, each of them caught themselves glancing over their shoulder—just to make sure the others were still there.
By the time they reached the front gate, the sun had climbed higher into the sky.
The compound was alive with activity. People moved between houses carrying supplies, hauling lumber, repairing fences, and organizing whatever resources they had managed to save.
Near the gate, Ava stood beside one of the large trees, a wooden sign propped against it.
Yve slowed. "What does it read?"
Ava turned around at the sound of her voice. Paint stained her hands, sleeves, and the front of her boots. "It just says…" Ava tilted her head slightly as she checked her own work, "*Welcome to Havenwall*."
Yve looked at the sign again. "Why Havenwall?"
Ava glanced around the compound before gesturing toward the houses, the vehicles, the people working together, and the walls surrounding them. "I want this place to feel like a safe haven for everyone," she said. "Humans and sirens alike."
Yve considered that for a moment. Then she nodded. "Good point."
Ysa stepped closer and tilted her head while examining the sign. "Shouldn't it be up there?" she asked, pointing toward the top of the gate.
Ava followed her finger and sighed. "Well, I've thought about that." She wiped a streak of paint from her wrist. "But I don't exactly have a siren's strength to carry it up there, you know."
She looked back at the sign. "And I didn't wanna inconvenience anyone. Everybody's already busy with their own tasks."
Yve exchanged a brief glance with Ysa. "We'll help you get the sign up."
Ava blinked. "Oh." For a second she looked genuinely surprised. Then she smiled faintly. "Sure. Thanks." She tapped the edge of the sign with the handle of her brush. "Let me finish painting it first, alright? I'll call you guys when it's ready."
"Sure," Yve replied.
Ava returned to her work, carefully brushing another layer of paint across the letters.
The three sirens left her to it and continued through the gates.
~~~
Duncan kept working at the wall, hammering wood in steady, forceful hits as they continued converting the space into a workshop. "Hey Dave," he called without turning. "Can you hand me those nails?"
David, who had just set down a heavy box on the table, turned around. He picked up the tool and walked it over. "Here."
Duncan grabbed it—but paused mid-motion. "What's with your fingers?"
David blinked. "What do you mean?"
Duncan lowered the hammer slightly, squinting. "You should have Ysa check you."
David looked down. One of his fingernails was partially lifted, cracked near the edge, hanging awkwardly as if it had been caught and torn without him noticing properly. "Oh… ow," he muttered, realization hitting a second late.
Duncan straightened. "Are you alright?"
David flexed his hand once, wincing. "Yeah, I'm fine. Must've chipped it off somewhere."
Duncan didn't look convinced. "Have Ysa heal that. Can't have you using only one hand."
David waved him off with his good hand. "Yeah, yeah. I'll get to it." He walked to the back of the house, letting the noise of the workshop fade behind him.
No eyes on him. No voices nearby. Only when he was certain did he stop.
A slow grin pulled at his face. Then it twitched, the muscles spasming as if receiving conflicting instructions.. He looked down at his hand again, pressing the damaged fingernail back into place as if it could be convinced to reattach.
It didn't.
Instead, it gave way completely and fell off, landing silently on the floorboards. But it didn't just lie there—it writhed like a severed worm before dissolving into a black ichor that seeped through the ground.
"Damn it!" David muttered under his breath.
His fingers tightened. He quickly shoved his hand under his shirt, hiding it from view. His breathing stayed steady, but something underneath it was starting to fracture.
He checked his other hand.
Then his arm.
A subtle change—too subtle at first to fully register.
Then his hair.
Strands came loose when he pulled his hand through it, but they didn't just fall. They dissolved into fine black particles that hung in the air before winking out of existence, leaving behind the smell of ozone and decay.
He stopped.
Slowly, he looked at his reflection in a nearby surface—just enough to confirm what his instincts were already screaming.
It wasn't stable anymore. The disguise was failing.
His jaw clenched.
He turned sharply and started moving again, faster now, running deeper through the compound toward the medical building.
He kept his head down the entire way, though occasionally his neck would jerk at an impossible angle, correcting itself with an audible crack that made passersby glance around uneasily, their primitive instincts screaming warnings they couldn't comprehend.
When he reached it, he didn't slow.
He stepped inside—
—and immediately tripped.
His body hit the floor hard, sliding forward with a rough scrape that exposed something underneath the skin—something dark and segmented, pulsing with a faint internal light.
"—No… no no no no…" he muttered under his breath.
The sound was no longer fully human.
His hand clawed against the floor as he tried to push himself up, but something underneath his skin resisted, like his body was arguing with itself over what shape it was supposed to be.
He forced himself upright and stumbled deeper into the building.
Rooms blurred past him, their corners seeming to bend and warp as he passed, the very space around him distorting as if reality itself was rejecting his presence.
He slammed into a door, forcing it open, and staggered into the bathroom.
The mirror was right in front of him.
He looked up.
David's face stared back. But it wasn't clean. It was wrong.
The edges didn't hold properly—like wax melting under heat, features sliding over one another, David's identity layered over something older and unstable.
One eye twitched out of alignment.
A split second later, it corrected itself.
Then failed again, rotating completely in its socket before settling back with a wet, sucking sound that seemed to pull at the very air in the room.
He pressed both hands against the sink, gripping hard enough that the marble cracked under his fingers.
He closed his eyes. Focused. Forced it.
For a moment, the shape steadied.
When he opened his eyes again, Dylan's face had partially formed—still unstable, still flickering at the edges—but holding.
Barely.
He let out a sharp, strained breath that fogged the mirror.
Then he looked at himself again.
The illusion held for half a second longer.
Then it collapsed.
His expression twisted into something that couldn't exist in human anatomy.
He punched the mirror.
Glass exploded outward in sharp fragments, scattering across the sink and floor. But the shards didn't just fall—they hung suspended in mid-air, each reflecting different versions of what was happening, none of them matching reality, showing transformations that hadn't yet occurred but were inevitable.
Silence followed.
For a brief moment, there was nothing recognizable left in the reflection.
Only the failure of something trying too hard to be human.
His body convulsed.
Skin loosened.
The disguise finally gave up entirely, peeling away in layers that didn't behave like skin should. Clothes distorted with it, losing form as the structure underneath forced its way out.
Bones shifted beneath what remained.
The frame elongated, jerking and correcting itself in violent micro-adjustments, like reality itself was struggling to decide what it was looking at.
A low, guttural sound filled the bathroom—too deep to belong in a human chest. It vibrated through the walls, dull and heavy.
~~~
The compound settled into a tense quiet as the crowd gathered under the dimming sky.
Lucas stood at the front again, scanning faces before speaking. "We've got a lot to do, everyone," he said. "I want you all to get some rest. Tomorrow we go deeper into—
His eyes flicked briefly toward Ava.
Ava lifted her head. "Havenwall."
Lucas nodded once. "Havenwall. Not a bad name." A faint approval passed his expression. "We make this place feel like home."
The word lingered—home—like it still wasn't fully believable.
Then Lucas's gaze shifted. "Before I send you all off, Yve's got something to say."
A few heads turned.
Yve stepped forward slowly. There was hesitation in her posture, like she wasn't fully comfortable being the center of attention. She looked over the crowd. Then her eyes paused. "…Has anyone seen Dylan?"
Silence.
A few people exchanged glances.
One shrugged. "He was around earlier."
Another muttered, "Maybe he's jerking off somewhere."
That made Yve's brow furrowed, she exhaled, forcing it down.
"Alright…" she said, steadier now. "Listen. I need everyone to understand something important."
The crowd quieted—barely.
"We're making this place safe for everyone. But to do that, we need cooperation." Her gaze sharpened slightly. "Do not go into the forest alone. Do not put yourself anywhere you can be isolated—even for five seconds."
That got reactions immediately.
"Seriously?" someone scoffed.
"What's next, assigned sleeping schedules?" another voice called from the side.
A third added, louder, "We're adults, not kids in a daycare."
A ripple of annoyed laughter spread through part of the crowd.
A survivor raised a hand. "Why? Is there something out there or are you just trying to control us?"
Yve stayed controlled, but her patience thinned.
Murmurs stacked over each other instantly.
"This is starting to sound like a cult," someone muttered.
"Are we in a shelter or a prison with better scenery?"
Yve's expression stayed controlled, but her voice tightened slightly. "No. It's just… we haven't fully secured every part of this place yet."
Another voice, sharp and irritated: "This always starts with 'for your safety.'"
A different survivor cut in, "How is this better than being captured?"
Ava's head snapped toward them instantly. "Oh, really?" she shot back. "You're comparing this to a prison?"
Another voice immediately overlapped her. "I didn't say prison—"
"You basically did," Ava snapped. She stepped forward, voice rising over the noise. "Need I remind you what kind of hell we pulled you out of?"
The crowd kept going anyway.
"At least there was food!"
Ava froze for half a beat at that last one. Then her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Yeah," she said sharply. "Human meat. You wanna go back to that?"
That finally made a few people go quiet.
Ava's jaw tightened. "You know what?" she said, voice cutting clean through the noise. "You can leave. All of you. We won't stop you. I ain't babysitting a bunch of ungrateful people. Y'all can go to hell for all I care." Then she turned and walked away.
That hit harder.
The crowd shifted—less loud now, more uneasy.
A mutter came from somewhere near the middle. "Still better than starving in a place with these sirens around. If they go hungry wouldn't they still eat us?"
A different voice cut through, calmer but firm. "Shut up, Zeke. We're safer here than out there."
That finally made a few people go quiet.
Others stayed silent, arms crossed, still unconvinced.
Before it could spiral further, another voice snapped back immediately. "You go outside and see how long you last on your own. I'm staying here."
Lucas raised a hand, cutting through the remaining chatter. "That's enough." His voice wasn't loud—but it carried.
The crowd settled again.
Lucas let out a slow breath. "Let's just listen to the sirens," he said. "They've kept us safe. They've saved us more times than we can count. The sirens are not our enemies, so please... don't turn them into one."
The crowd answered with low murmurs. Not agreement. Not disagreement.
Just uncertainty.
Yve met Lucas's gaze from across the gathering. Neither of them spoke. A firm nod passed between them.
Eventually, people began drifting away.
Some looked embarrassed, some still looked suspicious. Others simply followed the crowd because they were too exhausted to argue anymore.
Before long, only the group, and the sirens remained.
Lucas turned toward Yve. "Is there something I should know about?"
Yve's expression didn't change. "Yeah."
The single word was enough to make several people look up.
"Let's talk privately."
A few of the sirens immediately straightened.
Yve glanced toward them. "Rest of you, come follow us." Then she turned to Raine.
Raine gave a small nod. No words were exchanged. They didn't need any.
The group began walking away from the compound and toward the open field where the Pegacampus herd rested beneath the darkening sky.
The massive creatures lifted their heads as the sirens approached.
Lucas frowned. Something felt different.
Raine's eyes narrowed slightly. Her focus sharpened.
The change was subtle. But the herd reacted instantly as a silent command rippled outward.
One after another, the Pegacampus rose. Powerful bodies shifted across the grass, wings rustled, hooves pressed into the earth.
Lucas slowed.
Derek noticed it too. "What the hell are they doing?"
The creatures began moving. Not randomly.
Deliberately.
They spread outward and formed a wide circle around the group. Muscular bodies stood shoulder to shoulder.
Then their enormous wings unfolded. Dozens of feathered barriers rose into the air.
The sound was like sails catching wind.
Within seconds, the group found themselves enclosed inside a living wall of feathers, muscle, and bone.
Ethan stared upward. "...Okay." He swallowed. "That's either really cool or really bad."
Lucas slowly turned toward Yve. "Yve..." His voice was calm. "What exactly is happening?"
Raine raised a hand.
The Pegacampus immediately settled. One by one, they sat down around the perimeter.
The circle remained intact. Nothing outside could see inside and nothing inside could easily be overheard.
The realization made several people exchange uneasy looks.
A heavy silence settled over the enclosed space.
Even the distant sounds of the compound felt muffled beyond the wall of wings.
Yve looked at each of them in turn. Then she finally spoke. "Do not panic." Her voice was steady. "Panic will not help."
The seriousness in her tone immediately drew everyone's attention.
Yve folded her hands behind her back. "I want you all to keep your minds sharp and listen to every word I say."
Nobody interrupted. Nobody moved.
The playful curiosity that usually lingered in Yve's eyes was gone.
~~~
Moonlight streamed through the blurry glass of the medical building, casting pale beams across abandoned beds, overturned carts, and dust-covered floors.
Inside, the creature remained.
Silent.
Still.
The quiet should have been comforting.
Instead, it only made the faint sounds beneath its skin more noticeable.
Soft shifting. Subtle cracking. The movement of bones rearranging themselves where no movement should exist.
Something inside its frame adjusted itself with slow, deliberate purpose.
Then it moved.
The motion was wrong.
Each step felt disconnected from the world around it.
Its weight settled onto the floor, yet somehow never seemed fully accepted by reality. Shadows stretched strangely around it. Reflections in broken glass lagged behind by fractions of a second.
The air itself appeared reluctant to touch it.
As though existence recognized something standing where it should not be.
The creature crossed the darkened halls. Moonlight washed over patches of pale skin. Then darkness swallowed them again.
The creature stopped. A low vibration emerged from deep within its chest.
Not a growl.
Not breathing.
Something else.
Krrk...
Its jaws tightened. Rows of teeth pressed together.
Krrrk... tchk... tchk...
The sound echoed softly through the empty corridors. Like stone grinding against stone.
Its head tilted.
Then the creature resumed walking.
It moved deeper into the building, passing examination rooms and storage closets until it reached the rear section of the medical complex.
There, partially obscured by debris and leaves, sat an old iron manhole cover embedded into the concrete ground.
The creature slowly lowered itself into a crouch. Its fingers extended toward the rusted metal cover.
And somewhere far beneath the earth, beneath layers of concrete, soil, and forgotten infrastructure, Dylan kept struggling.
Hours of hanging upside down should have broken him. They should have flooded his brain with blood until he simply passed out and never woke up.
They didn't.
His shoulders screamed in their sockets, a constant, grinding fire. His wrists, chafed raw by the vines, felt flayed to the bone. With every beat of his heart, a hammer struck behind his eyes, the pressure building to a blinding agony.
Still, he kept working. A slow, torturous twist. A desperate pull. Fighting for fractions of an inch against the unyielding fiber.
The vines had loosened. Just barely. Hours of constant strain, sweat, and blood had done their work. It wasn't much. But Dylan only needed a little.
He gritted his teeth behind the wet gag and twisted his hand again. A fresh wave of pain shot up his arm, sharp and electric. He twisted harder, ignoring the wet, tearing sound of skin scraping away. His hand slipped another fraction. Then another. His breathing came in ragged, desperate gasps around the gag.
Almost.
Almost—
With a final, guttural wrench, his wrist suddenly slid free.
A muffled grunt escaped him. "Mmph!"
Immediately, his freed hand shot out, clawing for purchase. It found a hanging vine. His body swung violently, the world a nauseating blur of concrete and shadow. For a terrifying moment, his fingers, slick with sweat and blood, began to slip. The vine groaned under his weight.
"Urgh..."
With a surge of will, he tightened his grip. Using the vine as a pendulum, he clawed at the binding on his other wrist. The knot, weakened by his struggles, gave way after several agonizing attempts.
His arms dropped limply.
The relief was a new kind of pain, a jolt through deadened limbs. Then he ripped the wet gag from his mouth and spat the foul taste of rot onto the concrete below.
gnoring it, he forced his swimming eyes to focus. A concrete wall. A rusted maintenance ladder leading upward into nothingness.
Dylan sucked in a slow, shuddering breath, gathering every last scrap of strength.
Then he swung.
Once.
Twice.
On the third swing, he kicked out, his body carrying him close enough. His shoulder slammed into the wall with a wet crunch. Pain exploded through him, a supernova of agony.
"Argh!"
His grip nearly failed. But through the white-hot flash, his hand caught a ladder rung. The rusted metal rattled a protest. Dylan immediately grabbed another, then another, using the ladder to drag his dead weight upward.
Every movement was an impossibility. His shoulders burned. His arms trembled, useless and uncontrollable. Blackness crept in at the edges of his vision, but he blinked it back, focusing on the next rung. And the next.
Finally, he reached the vines wrapped around his ankles.
"Urgh..."
He reached up, his fingers numb and clumsy. They slipped on the wet knot. Again. Again. Then they found purchase. He dug his fingernails underneath and pulled. The vine tightened cruelly around his ankle. He pulled harder, a raw sound tearing from his throat. The knot shifted. A little more. A little—
Then it gave.
The binding unraveled.
For a split second, Dylan's mind registered exactly what was about to happen.
Then gravity claimed him.
He fell.
Hard.
His body slammed into the concrete beside the wastewater channel. A sickening, wet crack echoed through the tunnel. Pain exploded through his side. Another sharp burst shot through the finger of his left hand. The air was violently punched from his lungs.
"GAH—!"
Nothing came after. No breath. No scream. Just pure, unadulterated agony.
He rolled onto his side, his hand clutching his broken ribs as he clawed at the ground. His vision blurred instantly, black spots flooding the sight. His chest refused to expand, a tight, crushing cage. The pounding in his skull became unbearable.
He tried to push himself up. His arm, the one that had hit the wall, collapsed beneath him, useless.
The last thing he saw was the ladder, a rusted mockery of hope, disappearing into the darkness above.
Then everything went black.
Time warped in the darkness. Minutes felt like it stretched into hours as Dylan drifted in and out of consciousness.
A sound jolted him awake—
Thunk.
Heavy, deliberate footsteps echoing through the sewer tunnel.
Thunk.
A shadow fell over him, followed by a grinding noise like metal on stone.
His vision swam in and out of focus. His eyes cracked open.
Everything was a blur.
The pounding in his skull hadn't gone away. If anything, it felt worse.
His ribs screamed with every breath.
He tried to move. Pain immediately shot through his side.
"Ugh..."
Hot breath washed across his face, and his eyes cleared just enough to see the creature hovering inches away.
Dark, hollow eyes stared back, its mouth stretched into a grin filled with razor-sharp teeth.
Adrenaline surged through Dylan's veins.
"GAH!"
He gasped and landed a hard punch against the creature's jaw.
CRACK.
The creature recoiled with a horrifying sound—overlapping screams muted underwater, a guttural rage that vibrated through the concrete walls.
Dylan's body betrayed him, collapsing almost immediately as his mind fought to stay alive.
The creature rose and grabbed him by the neck, lifting him effortlessly.
Then the sound came.
A guttural noise that seemed to crawl from somewhere impossibly deep.
KRRRRRRRHHHH—
Dylan's stomach turned.
It sounded like dozens of screams layered together. Muted. Drowned. Like people screaming underwater.
With its free hand, it made a shallow cut across Dylan's cheek. Pain exploded across his face.
"AAAGH!"
A sharp scream tore from his throat as he struggled against impossible strength. The creature was a stark contrast to his human fragility.
Blood streamed down his face, flowing into the creature's hand as if being absorbed. The liquid traveled through its body, and something shifted. Pale skin bloomed with color, its head reshaping itself.
As Dylan neared unconsciousness, the creature threw him against the wall. The impact sent fresh agony through his ribs. He hit the ground coughing violently. He rolled onto his side.
Gasping.
Above, moonlight filtered through the manhole cover above, illuminating the transformation.
The thing tilted its head.
Watching the process.
Dylan watched in horror as the creature took on his features.
The jaw, the nose, the brow, the scars.
Its body compressed further. Height adjusting. Build shifting.
Its silhouette becoming nearly identical to his own.
Dylan stared.
Horrified.
Gasping through the pain, Dylan pushed himself up, leaning against the wall for support. As the creature examined its new hands with satisfaction, Dylan secretly retrieved a pocket knife from his pocket.
The creature touched its newly formed face, a smile of satisfaction spreading across its stolen features.
"What the fuck are ya?" Dylan whispered, his voice weak but defiant.
The creature advanced, each step deliberate and predatory. A slow smile spread across its stolen features. "What d'you mean?" it asked.
The sound of Dylan's own voice— same tone, same rough edge, same broken cadence. —sent a jolt of ice through his veins. Cold terror seized him as the creature wearing his face grinned wider. "I'm you."
His own eyes stared back at him from that familiar face, now twisted into something monstrous. For a paralyzing moment, Dylan froze, his mind refusing to process the impossible. Then instinct—raw and desperate—fought through the shock. Weak and trembling, he lunged forward, channeling every ounce of remaining strength into a single desperate act.
"Shut up—!"
The knife sliced through the air toward the creature's face.
But it moved with impossible speed, reflexes kicking in before Dylan could fully commit. The blade only grazed its cheek—a shallow but effective wound that drew blood. The creature winced, its stolen features contorting in pain.
Rage contorted its face. It retaliated with brutal efficiency, kicking Dylan hard in the stomach.
The impact folded him in half.
"GHH—!"
Air vanished from his lungs.
Pain detonated through his core.
The force was devastating, a cruel fate for his already battered body. Before he could recover, the creature grabbed him and hurled him into the rushing sewer water.
The current seized him immediately, dragging him sideways through filthy water and debris.
===========================================
Author's Note;
There's something special about Havenwall, isn't there? A name that promises safety when the walls might just be keeping something in rather than out. Ever get that feeling you're being watched when you're completely alone?