Elias ran, the roar of the creature echoing behind him, its claws tearing at the earth. The whispers chased him, a venomous chorus that wouldn't let him breathe. "We see you… ours… stay…" Each word was a cut, making him doubt his sanity, his very existence. The rusty knife trembled in his hand, the sharp stone and curved tooth in his shirt hitting his chest with every step. The skull impaled on the symbol—a circle with crossed lines, human teeth scattered like offerings—burned in his mind. The drone's hum, the remains of the hidden camera, the walkie-talkie's voice saying "the flesh always pays"—it all pointed to a truth that terrified him: someone was watching them, playing with them, and he was the prey.
His lungs burned, hunger gnawing at his guts like an animal. He hadn't eaten in days, only bitter roots and murky water, and his body was at its limit. The whispers laughed, louder. "Eaaat… you're ours…" Elias tripped, falling into a mud puddle, the knife slipping from his hand. For a second, he looked at the mud, his distorted reflection, sunken eyes, skin clinging to bones. It wasn't him. It was what the island wanted him to be.
He stood, grabbing the knife, and ran toward a hollow covered in vines. The creature's roar had faded, but the savages' howls returned, distant but closing in. The drone's faint hum lingered in the air, as if following him. Elias slid into the hollow, finding remnants of an ancient structure—stone walls covered in moss, half-collapsed, with roots piercing the cracks. It was a shelter, or a trap. He had no choice.
He entered, the cold, damp air smelling of rot. The darkness was thick, but moonlight filtered through gaps, illuminating strange shapes: broken furniture, rusted cables, shards of glass. It looked like a lab, or a station, abandoned decades ago. Elias advanced, knife ready, the whispers now a constant murmur. "We see you… there's no way out…" In a corner, he found a shattered desk, and on it, a notebook, its pages yellowed, some torn out. He opened it with trembling fingers, paranoia gripping his chest.
The words were scrawled, written in haste. "Subjects show accelerated degradation… hunger as catalyst… remote observation active… do not intervene…" Further down, an underlined phrase: "The symbol unites them, marks them." Elias closed the notebook, heart racing. It was real. They were being watched, studied, left to let hunger turn them into monsters. The drone, the camera, the walkie-talkie—tools of someone not here, but seeing everything.
A growl made him turn. Two savages stood at the entrance, their eyes gleaming, mouths stained with blood. One held a sharpened bone, the other a piece of rusted metal. Elias backed away, the notebook under his arm, searching for an exit. The room had a broken door at the back, but it was blocked by debris. He was trapped.
The savages attacked, the first lunging with the bone. Elias dodged, driving the knife into its side. Blood sprayed, hot, and the savage growled, collapsing. The second grabbed his shirt, the metal grazing his neck. Elias kicked, knocking it down, and smashed the stone against its head. The crunch was sharp, the body convulsing before going still. Elias panted, blood dripping down his face, the hunger roaring louder. For a second, he looked at the bodies, the smell of blood filling his nose. His hand trembled, reaching toward the first savage's open wound. One bite. Just one.
He screamed, hurling the stone at the wall. He wasn't one of them. He wouldn't be. He grabbed the notebook, the knife, and ran to the broken door, pushing the debris with desperate strength. The door gave way, opening into a narrow, damp tunnel with roots hanging like fingers. Elias advanced, the notebook pressed to his chest, the whispers laughing. "Eaaat… we see you… ours…"
The tunnel opened into a small chamber, lit by a gap in the ceiling. In the center, a pile of human remains—bones, dried skin, rotten organs—stacked like an altar. And above, carved on the wall, the symbol, larger, covered in dried blood, with a human eye impaled in the center, staring at him. Elias backed away, the notebook falling to the ground. The whispers erupted, a scream in his head. "You're ours! Eaaat!"
His stomach growled, the hunger like a knife in his guts. He looked at the remains, the organs, the blood. His hand trembled, reaching out, the whispers singing. He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't keep going. But then, a new roar, from the tunnel behind. The creature, claws crunching, eyes glowing in the dark. Elias was trapped, the altar ahead, the creature behind, and the hunger winning.