Evelyn’s hands shook as she raised her pistol, but every instinct told her she was too late. The clearing seemed alive, the air thick with heat and ash. The stump at the centre pulsed like a living heart, casting its ember glow across the burned bodies nailed around it. Cropsy stood behind them, massive, impossible, its mask glowing like molten metal, and its burned hand still pointing at the stump.Delaney’s sobs had turned into dry, terrified gasps. “Ev… what is it? What is this thing?”
Evelyn swallowed hard, forcing herself to look. She scanned the clearing. The bodies, the stump, the masks. The way the fog seemed to hum, almost like it had a heartbeat. And suddenly it clicked.
She whispered, “It’s… feeding on them. On everyone it kills. Not just the flesh… the fear… the life… it collects them here.”
Delaney’s eyes went wide. “You mean… it’s alive?”
Evelyn nodded grimly. “More than alive. It’s… eternal. Every time someone dies here, their soul… their essence… becomes part of it. That’s what the fire was. That’s what the masks are for. They aren’t decoration—they’re anchors.”
A sudden rustling in the ash made her spin. A burned figure staggered from the shadows, crawling toward them on charred hands and knees. Its mask was melted and twisted, but for a second, she recognised the eyes.
Travis Mullen.
“Travis!” she shouted. She ran to him, but as she approached, he stopped, head tilting unnaturally, like a puppet on strings. His voice came out hoarse and foreign. “It… calls me…”
Delaney grabbed her arm. “Ev! Don’t touch him!”
Evelyn hesitated. But Travis’s eyes—empty, but pleading—called to something deep inside her. “We can help him!” she shouted.
The stump pulsed violently, and Cropsy stepped forward, its glowing mask illuminating the clearing like a fiery halo. The burned figures began chanting in unison.
“Feed the fire… feed the fire…”
Evelyn realised with horror: the stump was Cropsy’s heart. Everything else—the burned figures, the masks, the ashes—were extensions of it. Everything Cropsy had ever claimed, every victim, fed into this central power. And the more fear, the more life, the stronger it became.
Delaney’s voice shook. “We can’t stop it, Ev. You can’t kill it. Nothing kills it.”
Evelyn swallowed, chest tightening. “Maybe not… but maybe we can survive it.”
Cropsy’s voice echoed through the clearing, low and guttural, yet unmistakably human. “You… know… why…”
Evelyn’s teeth clenched. “Why what?”
“You… return… to me…”
The ground beneath them trembled. The stump cracked wider, glowing brighter. The burned figures surged forward, but not fast—deliberate, ritualistic. Cropsy reached out with one charred hand, and the air seemed to bend toward it, pulling at Evelyn and Delaney.
Evelyn realised that Cropsy wasn’t just hunting—they were already inside its domain. The forest, the fog, the ash—it was all part of it. There was no escape unless Cropsy allowed it.
But then she remembered something: the masks. Each one had a different expression—screaming, laughing, crying. They weren’t just trophies—they were keys. Symbols of how each victim had faced Cropsy.
Her mind raced. Maybe if they moved carefully, if they didn’t show fear, if they mirrored the masks… they might survive.
She whispered to Delaney, “We need to make it think we’re already… part of it.”
He stared at her, pale. “You mean… pretend?”
Evelyn nodded. “Pretend. Or die trying.”
The stump pulsed again. The chanting grew louder. Cropsy’s mask gleamed like molten fire. Travis’s burned figure took a step forward, reaching toward them, torn between him and it.
And in that moment, Evelyn realised the terrifying truth:
Cropsy wasn’t just a killer. Cropsy was the forest. Cropsy was the fire. Cropsy was eternal.
And if they failed… they would feed it forever.
Source: Some or all of the content was generated using an AI language model
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