Unwritten Mythos

Ding, ding.

A clear, crystalline sound echoed through the chamber, and 023—known as Moon—slowly opened her eyes. The dimly lit room seemed to hold its breath as a middle-aged man entered, his steps hesitant. He approached Moon, standing still before her as though afraid to speak, then gently patted her on the shoulder.

"Daughter..." His voice was thick, as though he had rehearsed the words a thousand times. "Can I ask for your help with something?"

Moon chuckled softly, her wings twitching slightly behind her. "Okay."

The man's face twisted, a struggle playing out behind his eyes. "We... we need you to help us deal with a monster. One that is... like you."

His voice trailed off, but Moon understood what he couldn't say. Like you—like the monster you are.

After a pause, she nodded. "Okay. I will deal with it."

The middle-aged man looked startled, as if he hadn't expected her to agree so quickly. He swallowed hard. "But... if you feel that you cannot defeat it, you must come back. Promise me. You must return safely. You must come back alive."

Her wings, dark and shimmering, fluttered slightly. A shadow of a smile curled at her lips as she tilted her head. "If it is truly that dangerous, Father, could I ask a small favor of you?"

His eyes narrowed. "What is it?"

Moon's smile deepened, her voice soft but edged. "I think... I'll need some food."

The man's brow furrowed in confusion. "I'll leave logistics to—"

"No." Her tone was sharp, cutting through his confusion. "I need living things."

He recoiled slightly, his face draining of color. "You... you mean... that kind of food?"

"Yes," Moon replied, her voice calm and certain. "The kind that you can accept."

...

Inside the observation room, a group of people gathered, their eyes fixed on the surveillance feed. They watched as a large number of poultry and livestock were brought into the chamber where Moon resided. Her wings, now monstrous in size, pierced the bodies of the animals, and a cacophony of agonizing screams filled the room.

Through the speakers, the sound was unbearable, and the group unconsciously winced.

"If possible," one of them murmured, "I'd never want to be on the receiving end of those feathers. That kind of pain must be unimaginable."

A voice replied coldly, "It's beyond pain—her feathers bypass the body's natural limits."

"Can it really be that bad?"

"Yes."

"Then wouldn't the creature just die from the shock?"

"Exactly. The feathers are hollow and carry a toxin—one that amplifies every sense, especially pain. The creature's body enters a state of hyper-awareness, unable to escape it."

Another asked, "Couldn't we extract that toxin for some kind of medicinal use?"

"I wouldn't recommend it," came the reply, grave and certain. "We've tested it on lab rats. The toxin turns every breath into agony, every touch into a torture. The subjects experienced unrelenting pain, itching, the kind that could drive someone insane."

The thought alone made them all uneasy. "Then forget it."

They returned their focus to the monitor, watching the chaos unfold in the room. "What wave is this?" someone asked.

"Sixteenth," came the answer. "We've provided her with over five hundred experimental mice, but it wasn't enough. We had to send in fifty pigs, ten cows, twenty goats—yet it seems only their screams manage to briefly satisfy her hunger."

The room they watched had become more cramped with every passing moment. Moon's wings had grown grotesquely large, expanding so far that they shattered the walls, extending into adjacent rooms. The wings, now numbering sixty-four, dominated the space, leaving barely enough room for anything else.

"If she keeps growing, she won't be able to leave," one of the observers muttered, his voice tinged with dread.

"Yes, someone will have to speak to her... Convince her to come out."

A group of personnel was dispatched, but as they neared her, Moon's wings unfurled like a living tide, enveloping them entirely. Within seconds, two bloodcurdling screams echoed through the complex, and before the horrified onlookers could react, another pair of wings emerged from her back, growing impossibly fast.

Everyone watching gasped, the horror settling deep in their bones.

"That…" one of them stammered, "Asia's director… maybe… you should talk to her?"

The director, his brow furrowed, stared at the screen with growing regret. "I should've never joined the GPA."

"You must understand—"

He turned sharply on his heel, walking out of the observation room, but his exit was interrupted by a sudden, earth-shaking tremor.

Rumble!

In a blur of pure white, Moon broke through the ground and ascended into the sky, her sixty-six wings spreading out, covering the heavens. Those who remained inside were left gaping, the sheer size of her wings blocking out the sun. They could no longer see Moon—only the enormous, rippling expanse of feathers.

Europe's director swallowed hard. "Once, we could contain her… but now? I'm afraid that's beyond us."

Far above, Moon gazed down at them, her form too radiant and massive to comprehend. With a graceful swoop of her wings, she descended, landing before Asia's director with an unsettling calm.

"I think I'm ready," she said, her voice soft but filled with eerie certainty.

The director, forcing a smile through his unease, nodded. "Okay… Just—just be careful."

...

Somewhere in North America, a teenager sat quietly on a bus, staring down at his palm where a strange, blood-red triangle had suddenly appeared. His brow furrowed in confusion. "What... is this?" he muttered to himself, still dazed.

Before he could contemplate further, a pudgy figure plopped down beside him, poking him sharply. "Hey, Shino! Look at this! You're not gonna believe what I found!"

Shino turned to face his overenthusiastic classmate, a grin plastered across the boy's round face. The fat man thrust his phone forward, showing a video of a white-haired man talking animatedly to the camera.

On the screen, the man, his face smug and full of energy, spoke with strange enthusiasm. "You think becoming a Vampire is terrifying? Well, you're wrong!"

The man pointed dramatically at himself. "Turning into a Vampire is actually... amazing! Not only can we fly, but we heal from any wound in seconds!"

He paused, his eyes wide with a bizarre excitement. "Two days ago, someone tried to stab me! Right in the gut! And you know what happened? The second the blade went in, the wound closed up immediately!"

The man leaned in closer to the camera, his voice dropping as if he were sharing a great secret. "How did it feel? Like I was pulling a toothpick out of my skin! Not a drop of blood, nothing!"

Suddenly, the video cut to the man lifting a refrigerator with one hand, laughing maniacally. "I'm telling you—I feel like Superman!"

The fat kid burst out laughing, nudging Shino. "You see this? Everyone's posting stuff like this lately! It's everywhere! I'm getting bored of it, but... I don't know, maybe I should let a Vampire bite me too! How cool would that be?"

Shino's expression froze, caught somewhere between awkward disbelief and vague concern. "Ah?"

Fatty, oblivious, grinned wider. "C'mon, man! Turning into a Vampire is awesome! Who wouldn't want to be that strong?"

Shino, still dazed from the sudden appearance of the mark on his hand, didn't share his friend's enthusiasm. His perspective was different. Maybe it was because he was an international student, brought up in a different culture—an Asian among North Americans. The idea of becoming something like a Vampire didn't sit right with him.

Ever since he'd come to study abroad, things had felt strange. His academic record was perfect, his talents recognized early, which is why his parents had sent him overseas to begin with. But lately, with rumors of Zombies, Vampires, and monsters creeping through every conversation, his parents had started sending increasingly anxious messages urging him to return home.