Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

The fissures overhead widened like tearing fabric, revealing a void so absolute it seemed to swallow the very light of the burning sky. From that darkness, threads of shadow reached downward, twisting as though searching for the source of the Choir's song.

Mira's breath came in short, sharp gasps. The air was thick with heat and static, every inhale tasting like metal and ash. Her eyes flicked between Elena—still struggling against the cable—and the blackened lever that seemed to pulse in time with the hum.

Below, the giant stopped moving. It tilted its faceless head toward the sky, as if listening. The Choir's song shifted, deepening, resonating with the tremors that rippled through the city's foundations. The ground itself seemed to be joining in.

They come from beyond the wound, the tower's voice coiled through her mind, smooth and intoxicating. Pull, and the wound will open. The Choir will feed, and you will reign.

The word reign dug into her, sharp and tempting. A vision flashed behind her eyes—not the ruined city, but something rebuilt, standing tall under a red sun. Her at the center, the creatures kneeling.

"Mira! Don't look at it!" Elena's voice cut through, raw and urgent. She wrenched her arm free from the cable with a scream, skin scorched, and staggered toward Mira. "That's not power—it's a cage."

The cables reacted instantly, snapping toward Elena like striking vipers. Mira moved without thinking, slamming her body into the console to block their path. Sparks showered over them both.

The giant began to climb.

It didn't use the tower's supports. Instead, molten seams in its torso split open, and dozens of smaller fused limbs extended outward, anchoring it directly into the steel as it hauled itself upward. Each impact made the whole tower shudder.

"Mira!" Elena grabbed her shoulders. "If we cut the main conduit now, maybe—just maybe—we can stop the signal."

But Mira could feel the hum in her bones now, and deep inside, something had shifted. The tower wasn't just calling—it was listening. It was waiting for her choice.

Another fissure split open above, wide enough to reveal a shape beyond the void: an immense, glistening surface like an unblinking eye, its gaze fixed directly on the tower.

The Choir screamed now, no longer harmonious, their molten throats shredding the air with desperation.

The cables around the blackened lever writhed more frantically. The heat was suffocating. The sky's red light bled into everything, making even Elena's skin seem carved from flame.

"Mira—please," Elena whispered.

She looked at her friend, then at the lever.

Her hand moved.

Whether toward salvation or damnation, she didn't know.

The moment her fingers closed around the cold, scorched metal, the tower screamed—a sound that wasn't made for human ears. The fissures overhead yawned wide.

And the first tendril from beyond the sky slipped through.