The Beginning

The quick footsteps of hundreds of soldiers echoed down the corridor. The rarely filled halls of the old military base had become a hive of activity. Shouts and gunfire rang out in chaotic bursts, followed by screams. Tull ran, his rifle clutched tightly in his hands, his breath ragged. Then—an explosion.

No fire. No heat. Just sound. A shockwave ripped through the building, shattering the glass windows and plunging everything into eerie silence.

The corridor, once filled with men, was now still. The only noise was the soft pinging of bullets rolling across the cement floor. The half-dozen soldiers near Tull stood frozen, their eyes darting in every direction. They were waiting—expecting something to happen.

Tull reached out and nudged the shoulder of a soldier beside him.

“What?” the man whispered.

Tull pointed up.

The soldier followed his gaze—and his face drained of color. Tull turned his own eyes upward. His pulse quickened. He could hardly believe what he was seeing.

There, on the ceiling, was a footprint. A massive footprint.

It was shaped like a bird’s, spanning four feet in both directions. The edges glowed an eerie amber-red, pulsating softly, like embers in the dark. It was beautiful yet equally terrifying.

Gunfire and shrieking screams suddenly broke out, halting the silence.

The footprint vanished, as if being lifted up off the floor.

The doors at the far end of the corridor burst open. A dozen men sprinted in, weapons raised, their faces twisted in fear. Above them, something crashed— like thuds hitting the floor, followed by a sickening silence.

Tull’s instincts screamed at him to run. To get out. He wanted to go upstairs, to help—but terror rooted him in place. His stomach twisted with shame. He clenched his jaw. 'Move!', he thought.

He ran.

The emergency exit was ahead. His boots pounded against the floor. Behind him, the corridor exploded as doors were torn apart, sending splintered wood and jagged metal flying. Soldiers collapsed. Tull ducked, reached the door, grabbed the handle—

Then he stopped, tuned his head and looked back down the corridor.

The last few men were still running. But something else was coming.

A creature.

It tore through the hall with unnatural speed. Its wings were massive, black as black, their edges shimmering with molten gold. Its face was dark with the beak of a large bird and its face—glowing red like burning embers.

Then, it looked at him.

Tull’s breath stopped. His heart pounded.

He yanked the door handle but it was jammed.

“Open it!” one of the soldiers shouted, slamming into the door. Another kicked it. Nothing.

The creature closed in.

A low vibration filled the air. It wasn’t coming from the ground or the walls—it was coming from the creature’s wings. The sound deepened, growing stronger, sharper. The walls trembled. Cracks began to split in the cement.

Tull’s head pounded. His vision blurred.

One by one, the soldiers around him collapsed, clutching their heads as if in pain.

Tull gritted his teeth and threw himself at the door. The vibrations were rattling the screws loose. He kicked, shoved, anything to force it open.

And then—

“Oh, now… where do you think you’re going?”

Tull froze.

The voice wasn’t human. It was wrong—low, slithering, soaked in malice.

Slowly, he placed his hand back on the door handle.

“You can’t go anywhere, Tull.”

His blood ran cold.

“I’ll simply… follow you. You can’t escape me.”

Tull’s fingers clenched around the handle, as he thought to himself, 'how does it know my name?'

“I have a fabulous idea,” the creature began. “You help me… and I’ll help you...”

Tull refused to turn around. He fought the urge to respond. But the creature chuckled.

“Oh, dear Tull… there’s nothing to fear.” A pause. Tull's heart pounding heavy. Then, softly—almost… tenderly, “Haven’t you noticed? I haven’t hurt you.”

A chill ran down his spine.

“You’re special, Tull.”

Time slowed. His palms were slick with sweat. The door handle was almost loose. He just needed a little more time—just a little more—

Then, something changed.

A sound drifted through the air.

It was faint at first. Soft. Beautiful. A humming so delicate, so ethereal, it wrapped around him like a lullaby. It was unlike anything he had ever heard before.

And it made him want to let go of the door handle.

Then, almost as if he has lost control of his movements, his fingers slipped from the handle.

His mind emptied. His body relaxed. He closed his eyes.

Peace.

The creature before him hissed. Its massive wings folded inward, its body shaking. It staggered back. The humming grew stronger. It seemed to hurt the creature.

Tull couldn’t move. He didn’t want to. The humming was too beautiful.

Then—

The creature lunged.

It launched itself skyward, smashing through the ceiling. A deafening boom followed as debris rained down. The humming stopped.

Tull gasped. The trance shattered. He snapped back to reality.

The door.

With everything he had left, he threw his weight against it. Nothing. He braced himself, lunged—

The door burst open.

Sunlight blinded him. Fresh air filled his lungs. He stumbled through, tumbling down the stairs to the sand below.

Above him, the building groaned. Explosions rattled the ground. The walls collapsed. Screeches tore through the air.

Tull ran.

His legs carried him forward until he reached the overgrown shrubs by the shoreline. He dove into the thick brush, pressing himself between two tangled bushes.

His chest heaved. His hands shook.

Was he the only one left alive?

His breath hitched. His vision blurred. And then, for the first time since this nightmare began—

Tull sobbed.

He buried his face in his hands, his body trembling, his cries barely audible over the crashing waves. Then the reality hit him like a bullet.

He was trapped.

Alone.

The next ship wouldn’t come for three days. The control room was destroyed.

He had no way out.

And somewhere, above the ruins of the military base, the creature still lurked.

Waiting and watching.