Alan sprinted through the dense forest, his boots pounding against the uneven ground as the relentless clatter of bones echoed behind him. The undead cows were gaining on him, their skeletal forms moving with an unnatural speed, their hollow eye sockets glowing with an unholy blue light that cut through the shadows like ghostly lanterns. The eerie glow cast flickering patterns on the trees, transforming the forest into landscape that seemed to pulse with malevolent energy.

His heart hammered in his chest, each breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps as he wove between towering trees and ducked under low-hanging branches. The underbrush clawed at his legs, slowing him down, but he couldn’t afford to stop. The sound of the skeletal herd grew louder, the rattling of bones and the occasional guttural moan sending chills down his spine. He could almost feel their cold, lifeless breath on the back of his neck.

He needed a plan, something to buy himself time. He couldn’t outrun them forever—their tireless, undead stamina would eventually wear him down. As he dashed past a massive oak tree, its gnarled roots sprawling across the forest floor, an idea sparked in his mind.

Skidding to a halt, Alan pivoted on his heel to face the tree. He raised his knife, summoning the wind aether that swirled around the blade like an invisible current. The air crackled with energy as he focused his power, his fingers trembling with the strain. With a sharp, slashing motion, he unleashed a blade of wind, the force slicing through the tree trunk at a sharp angle. The oak groaned, its ancient wood splintering as it began to topple.

Alan didn’t wait to watch. He turned and sprinted away, the sound of the tree crashing to the ground behind him like a thunderclap. The impact shook the earth, sending a cloud of dust and debris billowing into the air. He risked a glance over his shoulder and saw the massive trunk lying across the path, its branches forming a tangled barrier. The skeletal cows, unable to halt their momentum, collided with the fallen tree in a chaotic tangle of bones. The sound of splintering wood and rattling joints filled the air, accompanied by the eerie, guttural groans of the undead herd.

Alan ran until his lungs burned and his legs threatened to give out, each step carrying him further into the dense, shadowy embrace of the forest. The sounds of Sandra’s undead creations—the clattering bones, the low, guttural moans—had faded into the distance, replaced by the eerie stillness of the woods. He didn’t dare stop, not yet. Every instinct screamed at him to keep moving, to put as much distance between himself and Sandra as possible.

Finally, when the ache in his muscles became unbearable and his breath came in ragged, shallow gasps, Alan slowed to a halt. He leaned heavily against a tree, its rough bark digging into his palm as he struggled to steady himself. The forest around him was quiet, almost unnaturally so. The only sounds were the faint rustle of leaves in the wind and the distant call of a bird, its mournful cry echoing through the trees.

He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. Nothing. No glowing blue eyes, no skeletal figures emerging from the underbrush. For now, at least, he was alone.

Alan’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, his mind racing. He couldn’t shake the image of Sandra’s face—her wild eyes, the twisted smile that had seemed so foreign on someone he once trusted. What had happened to her? What had the Rattle done? The questions gnawed at him, but there was no time to dwell on them. He needed to keep moving, to find Jafar.

He pushed himself off the tree, his legs trembling beneath him from the exertion and the lingering adrenaline. The forest stretched out in every direction, a labyrinth of towering trees and tangled undergrowth that seemed to close in around him. Each step he took was cautious, his senses heightened as he scanned the shadows for any sign of Sandra or her undead creations. This time, he vowed to keep his distance from any dead animal he might encounter; he had no intention of facing another surprise attack like the one with the rabbit.

As he wandered deeper into the woods, the atmosphere grew thicker, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. Alan's heart raced with every rustle of the underbrush, every whisper of the wind through the branches. He felt like a hunted animal, constantly on edge, ready to react at a moment's notice.

After what felt like an eternity of navigating the dense foliage, Alan stumbled upon a cabin nestled among the trees. It appeared to be inhabited, the faint hum of a generator could be heard somewhere in the area, and a flicker of hope ignited within him. Could Jafar be inside? Perhaps he could find refuge or assistance in this secluded place.

With cautious steps, Alan approached the cabin, his heart pounding in his chest. He peered through the grimy window, his breath catching in his throat at the sight within. The interior was a chaotic mess, furniture overturned and strewn about haphazardly, while trash littered the floor like a forgotten graveyard of discarded belongings. But what truly sent a shiver down his spine was the sheer number of animal bones scattered throughout the space that hinted at darker practices.

Alan's instincts screamed at him to back away. The sight of the bones, some still glistening with remnants of flesh, filled him with dread. He could almost imagine them stirring to life, animated by Sandra’s magic, just as the rabbit had been. He took a cautious step back, his eyes darting around for any signs of movement, his heart racing with the fear of what might lurk within those walls.

He needed to think clearly. The cabin could hold vital answers, or it could be a cunning trap set by Sandra to ensnare him. Alan weighed his options carefully, acutely aware that he had to tread lightly. Curiosity was a double-edged sword, and he couldn’t afford to let it lead him into danger.

Determined to gather more information before making any rash decisions, Alan began to walk around the perimeter of the cabin, his senses on high alert. He scanned the area for anything that might provide insight or a potential escape route. The surroundings were largely unremarkable, just a clearing cluttered with fallen branches and an area where someone had clearly been cutting firewood.

As he continued his cautious exploration, something caught his eye. There, partially obscured by overgrown weeds and brambles, was a cellar door set into the ground beside the cabin. The faint hum of a generator, which he had heard upon his arrival, emanated from the vicinity of the door, mingling with the sounds of the forest. Alan's heart quickened as he approached the door, which stood wide open, inviting yet ominous. A warm light spilled out from below, casting flickering shadows that danced across the ground.

He hesitated for a moment, weighing the risks. The light suggested that someone—or something—was down there, and the generator hinted at a source of power that could be used for various purposes. Alan crouched low, peering into the depths of the cellar. The light flickered, revealing a set of stairs that descended into the unknown, their edges worn and splintered.

With a deep breath, Alan steeled himself. He would descend down the cellar with caution, ready to react at a moment’s notice. If there was any chance of finding answers, he had to take it.

As Alan reached the bottom of the stairs, he turned his head to the right and spotted a generator tucked away in the corner of the room. It hummed steadily, its exhaust pipe snaking out through a small opening in the wall, leading outside. The generator was clearly operational, providing power to the cabin above and the room below. The warm light he had seen spilling from the cellar door was now revealed to be simple room lights mounted on the ceiling, casting a soft glow that illuminated the otherwise dark space.

His gaze shifted to a nearby table cluttered with an array of glass tubes and lab equipment, each piece unfamiliar. Some tubes were filled with colorful liquids, while others lay empty, waiting to be used. Alan felt a mix of curiosity and unease; he had no idea what experiments might have taken place here or what purpose the equipment served. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of chemicals.

As he continued to survey the room, Alan noticed a short hallway leading to a thick metal door that stood slightly ajar. A beam of light spilled out from the adjacent room, illuminating the hallway and casting long shadows that danced along the walls. The sight piqued his interest, and he felt a pull toward the door, a sense that whatever lay beyond held what he sought.

He approached the door cautiously, his heart racing with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. Alan tried to be as quiet as possible, each step deliberate as he neared the imposing metal door. However, in his focus, he carelessly stepped on a bone that lay hidden among the debris on the floor. The sharp crack of the bone snapping echoed through the cellar, a loud and jarring sound that shattered the tense silence. Alan cringed at the noise, feeling his heart skip a beat as he froze in place, dread washing over him.

Jafar: “Hello? Is someone there? Please help!” A familiar voice called out from behind the metal door, laced with urgency and desperation.

Alan: “Jafar!?!” Alan exclaimed, both surprised and relieved to hear his friend’s voice. The recognition sent a rush of adrenaline through him, igniting a flicker of hope in the midst of the darkness that surrounded him.

Jafar: “Alan! Is that you?” Jafar’s voice came again, clearer this time, tinged with a mix of fear and relief. “I’m trapped in here! You have to get me out!”

Alan’s mind raced as he processed the situation. Jafar was alive. The urgency in his friend’s voice propelled Alan into action. He quickly pushed the metal door open wider, the hinges creaking in protest as he stepped into the adjoining room.

The light from the cellar illuminated a small, dimly lit space filled with various pieces of equipment and clutter. In the far corner, Alan spotted Jafar, bound to a chair with thick ropes, his face pale but alive. Relief flooded through Alan, but it was quickly overshadowed by concern as he took in the sight of his friend’s disheveled appearance.

Alan

: “Hang on, I’ll get you out!” Alan said, rushing forward. He readedied his knife.

Jafar: “Thank you, Alan,” he said, his voice steady despite the situation. “I thought I was done for.”

As Alan sliced through the ropes, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were still in danger. The noise from the snapping bone might have alerted Sandra or her undead minions. He glanced back toward the metal door, half-expecting to see shadows creeping in from the hallway.

Alan’s heart sank as he turned his attention to another figure sitting nearby, also bound to a chair. The man’s head hung limply to the side, drool pooling at the corner of his mouth, a pitiful sight that sent a chill down Alan’s spine. He wore a uniform that marked him as security for the Archive. But, the vacant look in his eyes spoke volumes about the horrors he had endured.

Alan: “Who’s that?” he asked, his voice low as he leaned closer to Jafar, concern etched across his features.

Jafar: “That’s someone named Hector,” he replied, his voice heavy with sorrow. “He was a security guard at the Archive. Sandra kidnapped him along with me. She tried to erase his memory, but… it backfired. It caused him brain damage instead,” he said as he rubbed his wrists that were sore from being tied up.

Alan felt a wave of anger wash over him at the thought of Sandra’s cruelty.

Alan: “That’s horrific,” he murmured, glancing back at Hector, who seemed lost in a world of his own, trapped in a nightmare from which he might never awaken.

Jafar: “Alan! We need to get out of here!” he urged, his voice rising with urgency. “Sandra has completely lost it. She’s insane. We can’t stay here any longer; she’ll come back, and who knows what she’ll do next!”

Alan nodded, the weight of their dire situation settling heavily on his shoulders. The fear in Jafar’s eyes was palpable, and it fueled his own sense of dread.

Alan

: “I’ll free Hector,” he said, determination hardening his resolve. “We can’t leave him like this.”

Jafar: “We don’t have time!” he warned, his eyes darting toward the door. “It’s already too late for him!”

Alan: “But—” he began, but his words faltered as something caught his eye. A deer skull hung ominously on the wall nearby, its hollow eye sockets glowing with that same eerie blue light he had seen in the undead creatures. The skull seemed to watch them, its gaze unsettling.

Alan: “Crap! She’s here!” Alan yelled, the realization crashing over him like a wave of ice.

Jafar’s eyes widened as he turned to see the skull with glowing eyeholes, and in an instant, adrenaline surged through him. He jumped out of the chair, urgency propelling him into action

Without a second thought, both students bolted from the room, their hearts pounding in their chests as they raced into the next chamber, leaving Hector behind. The sound of their hurried footsteps echoed in the narrow space. They could not afford to look back; every instinct screamed at them to keep moving.

Bursting through the cellar door, they emerged into the open area around the cabin, the cool night air hitting them like a refreshing wave. But, there was no time to catch their breath. Alan quickly scanned their surroundings, his heart racing as he took in the scene. The forest loomed around them, dark and foreboding, but it was the sight beyond the treeline that sent a chill down his spine. Pairs of blue glowing lights flickered ominously in the shadows, piercing through the darkness like malevolent stars. The lights were the eyes of undead creatures, and they had completely encircled the cabin, cutting off any obvious path of escape.

Alan: “We’re surrounded!” he exclaimed, his voice laced with urgency.

Jafar’s face paled as he turned to see the glowing eyes watching them from the depths of the forest.

Jafar: “What do we do?” he asked, panic creeping into his voice. “We can’t fight them all!”

Alan’s mind raced, desperation clawing at the edges of his thoughts as he scrambled for a solution. The skeletal cows and other undead horrors were closing in, their hollow, clattering steps echoing like a death knell. The air grew heavier with each passing second, thick with the stench of decay and the suffocating weight of their malevolent presence. He could feel their gaze—cold, unblinking, and predatory—piercing through him like icy needles, sapping his focus and clouding his mind.

Then, from the shadowed depths of the treeline, Sandra emerged. Her arrival sent a visceral jolt of terror through Alan and Jafar, freezing them in place. She was a nightmare made flesh, her once-human form now a vessel for something far darker. A chilling aura radiated from her, distorting the air around her like a heat mirage, and trailing behind her was a grotesque parade of skeletal animals. Their bony frames clattered and creaked with every step, moving in eerie unison, their hollow eye sockets glowing with a faint, sickly light. It was a sight that defied reason—a macabre symphony of death and decay, orchestrated by Sandra’s twisted will.

Her eyes were the worst of it—wide, empty, and yet burning with a crazed, otherworldly glint. They were windows into a mind that had shattered, consumed by whatever dark force now influenced her. Her once-familiar features were distorted, her face a mask of madness, and her hair hung in wild, tangled strands. Her clothes were stained, as though she had been dragged through the filth of the grave. The skeletal creatures around her moved with unnatural precision, their every motion a reflection of her erratic, frenetic energy. They were extensions of her will, a horrifying testament to the depths of her corruption.

Alan’s breath caught in his throat. This wasn’t the Sandra they had known from the Arcanium Archive.

Sandra: “Did you really think you could escape me?” she called out, her voice a chilling blend of mockery and madness. The sound echoed through the trees, sending a shiver down Alan’s spine.

(Author's Note: Just putting this here for when a bot scrapes and repost without my permission. Hey there! You're reading a story by me, Saberfang. This was likely taken from royal road or scribble hub. If you like my work please read it on those websites or on patreon at /user?u=83747391)