Korath's senses were sharp—sharper than the others. His ears twitched at the sound of distant cries, the faint stench of living flesh. His hunger gnawed at him, but there was something else. A pull. A need to... lead.
The others—his kind—shambled around him. Their movements were slow, disjointed, mindless. They weren't like him. Not anymore. The hunger was all they knew. But Korath, Korath knew more.
He could smell them—the humans. They were close. He could hear them now too, the soft shuffle of their feet, the quickening of their breath. They were afraid. He could taste it in the air. Fear.
Korath's teeth clenched. He had learned their ways. The humans. How they gathered in groups, how they fortified themselves, how they ran when they feared death. He had seen them do it. He had watched, observed. And he had learned.
His body was stiff with decay, but his mind... his mind had begun to awaken. Something had shifted in him, a spark of intelligence that hadn't been there before. He didn't know why, but he welcomed it. It made him different. And different was power.
The others followed him mindlessly, drawn to him like flies to a carcass. But Korath was more than a mindless creature. He was a leader. He would be.
He approached the humans' shelter, his footsteps muffled by the wet earth beneath him. He had seen the walls before, the barricades they set up, the weapons they carried. It didn't matter. His kind would overwhelm them. But Korath had a plan. He knew how to make them think they were safe—how to lure them out. It was a game to him now, a twisted kind of strategy.
The sound of a distant child's cry reached his ears, faint, soft. It was a trap, he knew it. The humans would never leave the safety of their shelter unless they thought someone was in need. They would be weak. He would exploit that.
He raised his arm—once, twice—and the others followed. They knew nothing but the drive to feed, but they followed.
He moved forward, his movements careful, calculated. The humans wouldn't be ready. They never were.
He waited.
And then—he saw them. They came running. The humans—foolish, desperate. A man and a woman. Their eyes widened as they saw him, and for a moment, a flash of recognition passed between them. But it was too late.
Korath bared his teeth and let out a low growl. The woman screamed, but her voice was swallowed by the growing sound of footsteps—the growing tide of his kind, shuffling behind him.
"Help… help!" The woman cried, reaching for the man, her voice shaking with terror.
Korath could feel the thrill, the rush, as the humans' fear flooded him. The others were closing in now. The man tried to run, but Korath was faster. He grabbed him by the throat, feeling the weak pulse of life drain away beneath his fingers.
The woman tried to pull him free, but Korath crushed her attempts, shoving her back into the dirt. Her screams were music to his ears. He watched her, feeling something stir in his chest—a strange, unfamiliar sensation. It wasn't hunger. Not quite.
He let go of the man's throat, watching as he collapsed to the ground. The others descended on him immediately, tearing him apart. Korath didn't care about the man's death. What mattered was the power he had tasted. It was more than the food. It was more than the kill. It was control.
And he would have more.
He turned back to the others, his eyes scanning the horizon. They were closing in. The humans would come for their own, foolishly thinking they could save them. They would fight, but they would lose. They always did.
Korath let out a growl. A low, rumbling sound that echoed in the silence of the night.
The game had begun.