His body, now just a mangled corpse, twitched.
Then moved.
The zombies that once fed on his flesh reeled backward, snarling in confusion, just before a shockwave of black fire erupted from his chest. It consumed them instantly — no screams, no ash left behind, just silence. Their forms vanished into cinders that never touched the ground.
Roman stood.
No longer fully human.
His skin was pale, almost translucent, marbled with glowing black veins that pulsed with something ancient and unnatural. His eyes burned red, molten and merciless. Behind him, a skeletal wing of shadow flared into being — immense, jagged, dripping with energy — before dissipating like mist.
But colder than his transformed body was the void within.
His heart — if it beat at all — beat for no one. No warmth. No remorse. Only memory.
He remembered everything.
The torment.
The betrayal.
The laughter of his stepbrother as fists rained down on him.
The mocking silence of his girlfriend as she turned away.
The sneer of his stepmother when she said he wasn't worth saving.
His fingers curled into claws.
"You fed on my pain," he muttered, voice layered with something inhuman — like a thousand voices whispering through an iron grate. "Now I will feed on your screams."
As he took a step forward, the earth cracked. Grass withered, curling into black dust. The air grew heavy, and cold. Ice crystals formed on the edges of dead leaves. Overhead, the sky darkened unnaturally fast, as if night had been torn from the heavens and stitched onto the day.
Crows began to gather.
Dozens.
Then hundreds.
They circled above in a black vortex, cawing wildly, like a siren warning the world of what was coming.
........
In the distance stood the shelter — once his, now their lair.
Inside, warm lights flickered. Laughter echoed.
His stepbrother lounged shirtless on a battered leather couch, drink in hand, proudly boasting.
"Yeah, I beat that freak down," he laughed, flexing a bruised arm. "Left him for the dead things. They practically licked his bones clean."
His girlfriend lay beside him, bare-legged and smirking, a lazy arm draped over his chest.
"You really think he's dead?" she asked with a giggle.
The stepbrother smirked. "Course he is. You saw what I did. No one gets up after that."
In the corner, Roman's stepmother nursed a drink, swirling it in slow circles. She looked toward the boarded-up window, frowning.
Then the wind began to howl.
Not a breeze — not a storm — but a scream, high-pitched and sharp, as if the sky itself were mourning.
The lights flickered once.
Twice.
Then they went dark.
The generator sputtered in the basement, choked on its own breath.
Outside, a shadow passed the window.
Something massive.
Something wrong.
Roman's stepmother stood slowly, her instincts prickling. "Did you hear that?"
The front door slammed open with a deafening crack. Wood splintered and metal shrieked on hinges that warped under unseen pressure.
Smoke poured in.
Not white.
Not gray.
But thick, oily, black like it was born from fire and poison.
And through it walked Roman.
He moved like a specter — each step fluid, unnatural, precise. The smoke curled around him as if welcoming him home.
His eyes glowed like coals stoked by centuries of rage.
His voice echoed through the room, distorted and deep:
"You forgot one thing, brother… monsters don't die."
Thunder exploded in the distance.
Rain began to fall — thick, inky droplets that hissed when they struck the ground. It left streaks of black wherever it landed. Even the shelter groaned as if it could feel it soaking into its bones.
Inside, fear crept in slowly, but decisively.
Laughter died.
The girlfriend backed away from the couch, her eyes wide, lips trembling.
The stepbrother stood, fumbling for the rusted iron rod he kept nearby — a half-assed weapon from his paranoia.
"Stay back!" he barked, though his voice cracked. "I'll kill you again!"
Roman tilted his head, like a curious predator studying its prey before the strike.
"You didn't kill me…" he said, his voice thick with venom. "You awakened me."
He raised a hand. Shadows snapped out, tendrils of living darkness that twisted through the air like vipers. They wrapped around the iron rod and ripped it from his stepbrother's hands, slamming it against the wall so hard it bent.
The girlfriend screamed.
Roman's steps echoed now, louder than thunder.
Step.
Step.
Step.
"One by one," he whispered. "You'll each feel what I felt... but much slower."
His glowing gaze fixed on his stepmother.
She tried to run.
The shadows moved faster.
They coiled around her legs and lifted her into the air like a ragdoll. Her drink shattered as she shrieked, suspended midair, limbs flailing helplessly.
"Roman—wait! Please!" she cried. "I was trying to protect you! Your father—he—he—"
"Lied," Roman finished for her, coldly. "You stood by while they tore me apart."
The shadows twisted once. Her body jerked violently, every joint locking in agony.
And then they forced her to look into Roman's eyes.
She screamed.
Not from pain — but from what she saw.
She saw herself.
Through his eyes.
Years of neglect. Cold stares. Dinners withheld. Silence instead of comfort. Favoritism turned cruelty. Her own voice ringing in her head:
"Why couldn't you be more like your brother?"
Her scream became a wail.
Her eyes rolled back. She convulsed, suspended in midair, gripped by guilt made manifest.
Then Roman let her drop.
She crumpled to the floor — breathing, but broken.
But the punishment wasn't over yet.....
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Hey,have any thoughts about the novel, comment on it, power stones and give a smile