[₦ɄØ]

Brown chitin shells litter the beach. White flesh was torn asunder and cast here and there and everywhere. The water is tainted by a deep, vermillion ichor. And if you press your ears against the sand, you can hear the muffled sounds of monsters crying.

“Why are you doing this?”

“You’re one of us.”

“Betrayer…”

The words ring hollow — if you can consider them words. They’re growls, low rumbles resonating through the ground. A few screech at frequencies the human ear cannot hear. But what lies before the monsters isn’t human. It isn’t quite a monster, either.

They’re something worse.

“Why?” Paris smiles. “Because I’m hungry.”