dream broadcast. yeah.
You have lived in the village your whole life. There were never very many people in it, but your family has been here for nearly as long as the town itself. It's not very large at all, either, but it's been relatively safe, at least until the recent whispers of creeping monsters drawing closer each night.
Yoma, they say in hushed tones as you head into the marketplace. They're coming. They're here. The miller's boy... But you don't stop to listen. There's really no point in stopping anyway; the whispers reach you just the same. Yoma. Monsters. They're here. The warnings surround your little village like a dense fog, keeping people close to home. They're afraid to wander too far for fear of what might become of them - changed into creatures like the yoma, you've heard. Yes, it's happened before. Anyone in the village could be infected.
The miller's son, you think. He's been acting oddly. Your cousin. Your mother. Are they infected? Could they be, without you knowing? You keep a careful watch on things, just in case.
Somehow, you still don't see it coming.
The monster is more massive than any yoma has a right to be. It moves on long graceful legs, like a spider, and each leg ends in sickly red. It has spines on its back that almost look like wings in the dawn light, and it towers over what's left of the buildings that once stood here and, look, their ruins are so thickly shrouded in a haze that it seems like the world ends at the edge of town. It may as well have - the monster has killed every last person in the village except you.
You shut your eyes, hoping that if you can't see it, it won't be able to see you back.
That doesn't work, of course, but the thing that pulls you from your hiding spot isn't a monster at all. It's a woman. Her bare skin looks gold in the morning light, her eyes and long hair jet black, and the hand that grabs you is coated with red. She looks too friendly to be a demon, you think. And so familar...
"I've found you," she says, with a faint smile on her lips. "This is no time to play hide and seek, child."
She looks so beautiful, so relieved, you barely even have time to notice when her fingers dig into your flesh and slice you to ribbons.
Yoma, they say in hushed tones as you head into the marketplace. They're coming. They're here. The miller's boy... But you don't stop to listen. There's really no point in stopping anyway; the whispers reach you just the same. Yoma. Monsters. They're here. The warnings surround your little village like a dense fog, keeping people close to home. They're afraid to wander too far for fear of what might become of them - changed into creatures like the yoma, you've heard. Yes, it's happened before. Anyone in the village could be infected.
The miller's son, you think. He's been acting oddly. Your cousin. Your mother. Are they infected? Could they be, without you knowing? You keep a careful watch on things, just in case.
Somehow, you still don't see it coming.
The monster is more massive than any yoma has a right to be. It moves on long graceful legs, like a spider, and each leg ends in sickly red. It has spines on its back that almost look like wings in the dawn light, and it towers over what's left of the buildings that once stood here and, look, their ruins are so thickly shrouded in a haze that it seems like the world ends at the edge of town. It may as well have - the monster has killed every last person in the village except you.
You shut your eyes, hoping that if you can't see it, it won't be able to see you back.
That doesn't work, of course, but the thing that pulls you from your hiding spot isn't a monster at all. It's a woman. Her bare skin looks gold in the morning light, her eyes and long hair jet black, and the hand that grabs you is coated with red. She looks too friendly to be a demon, you think. And so familar...
"I've found you," she says, with a faint smile on her lips. "This is no time to play hide and seek, child."
She looks so beautiful, so relieved, you barely even have time to notice when her fingers dig into your flesh and slice you to ribbons.