Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

The whisper drifted down the spiral stairs again, curling like smoke through the stagnant air.

Zara pressed against Damien, her eyes wide. "It's a trick. It has to be."

Damien didn't answer. His grip on the axe tightened, the flare's light bleeding shadows across the carved walls. The runes shimmered faintly, their glow pulsing in rhythm with the whisper—as though the tower itself breathed with the voice.

Step by step, they began to climb.

The pounding at the door grew frantic, fists and claws battering the wood, but the tower held. For now. The further they ascended, the clearer the voice became. It no longer rasped—it beckoned.

"Come to me… the answers lie above."

Zara's legs trembled with every step. The stairs felt endless, winding through a throat of stone. She dared a glance back; through the narrow slits in the wall, she glimpsed the chaos outside. The Tyrannosaur still battled in the graveyard, its hide riddled with gnashing corpses. Overhead, the pterosaur circled, hunting both living and dead. And through it all, the fog pulsed like a living thing.

At last, they reached the top.

The chamber spread wide, circular, its roof fractured and open to the moon. The air here was colder, sharper, and the runes on the walls blazed faintly with a dull crimson light. In the center stood a figure cloaked in tattered robes, face hidden beneath a hood.

Zara froze. "A survivor?"

The figure lifted its head, revealing not rot, not bone—but a man's weary face. His skin was pale, his eyes ringed dark as if sleep had abandoned him years ago. When he spoke, his voice matched the whispers.

"I am the Keeper of the Watchtower." His gaze fell heavy on them both. "And you should not have come."

Damien raised his axe. "We didn't have a choice. The dead—"

"The dead," the Keeper interrupted, "are not your hunters. They are the chains. They rise not to kill, but to bind. To keep the old ones from waking fully."

Zara's stomach knotted. "Old ones?"

The Keeper gestured skyward. Through the broken roof, the pterosaur wheeled, shrieking as it dove again at the swarm below. "The world remembers its first predators. Beasts older than history. The dead are summoned to hold them back… but the bindings weaken."

Damien's jaw clenched. "Then why attack us? Why chase us?"

"Because," the Keeper's eyes burned, "you run where you should kneel. You fight where you should listen. The tower called you here because you may yet choose."

The pounding at the tower's base grew thunderous. Dust rained from the ceiling as cracks snaked across the stone.

Zara clutched Damien's arm. "They're breaking through."

The Keeper extended a hand, palm glowing with the same light as the runes. "Decide quickly. Help me bind the dead to their purpose… or watch this world fall to tooth and claw."

Damien's axe wavered. Zara's breath caught.

Outside, the roar of the Tyrannosaur shook the tower to its core.

And the choice loomed like a blade over their throats.