A young man's eyes opened. A dark room with no windows or candles. He blinks a few times and tries to scratch an itch on his nose. He is horrified to find his arms not responding to him. He can't feel his arms ore his legs anymore. He is on a counter in a room where his eyes are adjusting. Last night's bad dream rushed into his mind.
Last night he woke up to see a man with a pail face. His cheeks were sucked in and by the sun his eyes were wrong. Both were red one looked pinkish and almost human. The other was a bulging insectoid eye. It was red as blood and its gaze pierced the young man. Giant bees ate his arms and legs. The cadaverous figure put a hand on his mouth, and he couldn't scream even after the figure pulled its hand away. He was dragged out of the bunk house with a few of his mates thrown into a cart in the middle of the night. The giant bees crawled over all over the solders. The young man had closed his eyes to avoid looking on them. Eventually shock pulled him back to sleep.
The young man tried to open his mouth to find it still shut. He liked the inside of his mouth to discover that he only had one lip. It was a shocking discovery that lead to loud mumbling. His mumbling roused mumbling from his left and right. He looked to see the panic-stricken faces of his bunk mates.
Both had their lips fused together. The men mumbled at each other.
After an eternity of helplessly murmuring at each other until silent resignation fills the room. Except for a sound coming from the center of the room. A rustling of cloth and a squeak!
The young solders eyes had adjusted to the room. It was a larder or a kitchen the kind that could serve a lot of people. Jars off food preserves and sacks of dried food sat around a stained mattress at the center of the room. A rat poked its head out from the mattress. The young man would halve blanched if not for his mouth being sealed.
The little rat stared very bravely at him. he stared back and the vermin did not cower into the mattress like he expected it would. It looked right back at him.
"Squeak!"
The little rat seemed unafraid. As he locked eyes with the creature, he noticed something was off about its eyes. On was a solid red. The other was normal for a rat but the other was the same red as the specter from last night. Dread filled the young solder as footsteps approached a door on the far side of the door. The door opened and figure wearing a cloak covered in stones radiating pail light. The hooded figure stepped over to the rat and scratched its head. The rat crawled onto the man's shoulder. As the hooded figure turned to face it prisoners, he saw the bulging red eye look over him. it was the defining characteristic of his gaunt face. It reminded the solder of the expensive glass eyes rich men might get if they lost one. Some of the others had made a small collection of them pulled from the skulls of the city's wealthy. This stone was misshapen into the shape of a fly and bulged out of the head in almost the same way. It radiated a light that drove dread into his spine like a hammer pounding nails. He felt the light reaching out for him its maid his head feel like it was about to catch fire.
The man turned his head to break contact with the eye and felt relief. He could feel its gaze, but the madness was gone. As the hooded figure approached, he noticed its smell. It was corpselike. He thought he got used to that smell a week ago as he was going through pockets. This was some how a new combination of blood, shit, and soiled cloth that was new enough for him to be able to smell it. A cold hand took his chin and pulled his face to once again stair into the red eye.
The pain and dead returned. He turned his eyes down to see the blood-stained pouches and harnesses inside the studded cloak. The shirt underneath looked like it had been stabbed multiple times.
"Look me in the eye murderer," hissed the pail man pulling his face up so his eyes once again met.
The orange coat closed his eyes shut only to still see a red light through his eye lids. He felt his body shake as tears burned his shut eyes. He wanted to push the man off him but had no arm. He had no legs to run away with. Fear and helplessness turned his stomach as he mumbled in fear unable to scream.
Another set of boots stomped slowly into the room.
"About time you made it down," said the voice. "I suppose its not easy to move like that thing, perhaps a new type of bee will help with that."
The solder opened an eye to see one of his mates from the bunk house slowly dragging his feet into the room. The appearance of his old comrade brought him no hope. He was all wrong. He still had legs but his arms where gone. His eyes were gouged out. His mouth cut away along with his tongue leaving only a hanging jaw and teeth. The skin around his chest had holes in it. A bee crawled his mouth down to the chest were it crawled into one of the holes in his skin.
"Your mans still alive you know," said the pail man. "Figured it might be hard for the bees to live in a host that has liquid unlife in it. He wasn't very cooperative at first but being stung from under your skin makes you a much better host."
The limbless solder closed his eyes to sob unable to do anything about his situation.
"Well," whispered the evil phantom. "If I wanted your opinion, I would have cut your mouth open. No, you are here for rat food."
The orange coat felt his body grow tired. He hadn't felt so drained since the first day of the assault. He had marched through five city blocks from morning until late at night killing everyone he had come across. The hardest one that day was a woman around noon who had died trying to fend him off with a hot frying pan. Her child had been much easier to deal with. The day ended late that night he had killed mor people than he could count. He started the day hungry and ended it just as full not that he thought he would be able to hold down food.
He felt the eye look at him and he remembered that red radiance. It was the same look the mother had in her eye as he stuck her. The hatred and madness needed to trade her life for mine.
It was over. The being in front of him was the vengeful spirit of Yourz come for its revenge.
The cold of the spirits hand went away. The squealing of rat pups filled the room. The taste of his stomach had forced itself into his mouth and nostrils.
"Look at that Bags," whispered the spirit. "You're a mom. Isn't that great… I imagine you are tired… I'm afraid I don't have time to let you be a mother they need to grow up quick… I'll have you know I'm getting good at making things bigger than normal you little smart ass… Yes, I know you're not a donkey… Look I'm in charge here and I say they grow to the size of hounds… You Take a rest bags I'll see to it they grow up strong."
After a moment of pause the cold hand was back. The feeling of tired returned. This time somehow more exhausting. He heard the other men mumbling but their stifled screams sounded farther and farther away. Cold began to chill his body as sound stopped reaching him.
Soon after only a blackened husk remained of the murderer. Albie looked at the body satisfied at his work. Seven rats the size of large dogs explored the pantry for food. The men in front of him terrified of what they just witnessed. Albie slid the husk to the floor and the rats began chewing on the leathery skin and bones. They looked at the mage a hint more intelligence in their eyes than their mother. She was sharp for a rodent.