CHAPTER 38: DULLAHAN

Is this a dream?

The question floated through my consciousness as I found myself standing in what appeared to be an infinite expanse of dark water. The lake stretched endlessly in every direction, its obsidian surface broken only by strange, ethereal lights that danced beneath the waves like trapped stars.

I tried to move my arms, to feel the familiar weight of my own body, but there was nothing—just the vague sense of existing, of being present without truly being there. Yet when I willed myself to walk, my legs responded, carrying me forward across the liquid mirror with steps that made no sound.

Minutes passed—or perhaps hours; time seemed meaningless in this place—before something made me freeze mid-step. My heart, if I still had one in this dreamscape, lurched against my ribs.

There, perhaps fifty yards ahead, stood a solitary figure. The woman’s back was turned to me, her familiar silhouette clear even in this surreal landscape.

"M... Mom?" The word escaped me as barely more than a whisper, my voice cracking with disbelief and desperate hope.

At the sound of my voice, she began to move. Not turning around as I’d hoped, but walking away with slow steps that seemed to barely disturb the water’s surface.

"Wait!" I called out. "Mom, is that you?!"

I lunged forward, my legs pumping with desperate energy, but it was like trying to run through thick honey. Every movement felt sluggish, weighted down by the dream logic that governed this place. No matter how hard I pushed myself, she remained just out of reach, her figure growing smaller and more indistinct with each passing second.

"Please!" I shouted, my voice echoing strangely across the endless lake. "Don’t leave."

But she continued walking, her form beginning to blur at the edges like watercolors bleeding into wet paper. I stretched out my hand, fingers grasping at nothing but empty air as she faded completely from view, leaving me alone once more in the vast darkness.

I stood there for what felt like an eternity, my arm still extended toward the spot where she’d vanished. Slowly, I clenched my fist and let it fall to my side.

The memory of our last morning together flooded back with painful clarity. I’d been rushing to get ready for school, barely glancing up from my phone as she’d reminded me about dinner plans that evening. Such a mundane conversation—discussions about what to cook, whether we needed to stop by the grocery store, her gentle nagging about me not studying enough.

"I’ll see you tonight, sweetheart," she’d said, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead as I’d grabbed my keys.

Those had been her last words to me.

I bit down hard on my lower lip, tasting copper as I fought back the tears that threatened to overwhelm me. The regret was a living thing inside my chest, clawing at my ribs.

"Regrets are painful, aren’t they?"

The voice materialized from nowhere, melodious yet somehow otherworldly, causing me to spin around so quickly I nearly lost my footing on the liquid surface.

Behind me stood another figure, this one clearly feminine in shape but composed entirely of brilliant white light. She seemed to pulse with an inner radiance that made it impossible to discern any specific features—as if she were carved from pure starlight and wrapped in flowing veils of luminescence.

"Who... who are you?" I managed to ask.

The figure tilted her head in what might have been amusement. "Identity is such a complex concept, isn’t it? What matters isn’t who I am, but rather who you are—and more importantly, what you’re becoming."

Her voice had an strange quality to it, as if it were coming from multiple directions at once, creating harmonies that resonated through the water beneath my feet.

The question that had been burning in my mind since my first strange dream after the awakening burst out of me. "Are you the one who gave me these powers? The ability to... to cure the infected women?"

A sound that might have been laughter rippled through the air around us. "Gave you powers?" She shook her head slowly. "My dear child, you were born with what flows through your veins. You are one of the chosen, though your path is unique among your kind."

"Others?" I felt my eyes widen in shock. "There are others like me? People who can cure the infected?"

"Others with gifts, yes. But none quite like yours." The luminous figure seemed to drift closer, her radiance casting dancing shadows across the lake’s surface. "You see, you’re not actually curing these women. You’re infecting them."

"What?"

"You carry within you a virus—one far more powerful and ancient than the plague that has devastated your world. This pathogen cannot be transmitted through casual contact or airborne particles. It requires the most intimate of connections, passed through the union of bodies, carried in the essence of life itself."

I felt the blood drain from my face as the implications began to sink in. "You’re saying I’ve been... infecting them with something else?"

"The virus you carry devours other pathogens entirely. It’s not a cure in the traditional sense, but rather a complete replacement—the stronger predator consuming the weaker prey. The women you believe you’ve saved now host a fragment of something far more powerful than the original infection."

My legs felt weak. "W...what have I done?"

"You have done what you were born to do," she said. "You are the host of Dullahan—an entity that will soon merge completely with your consciousness. In exchange for this union, you will inherit complete immunity to any form of infection, along with capabilities that extend far beyond mere resistance to disease."

"Dullahan..." The name felt familiar somehow, like an echo from a half-remembered dream or a word glimpsed in a book read long ago. "I’ve heard that name before."

"Of course you have. It has been with you since your first breath, shaping you, preparing you for this moment."

The most important question burst from my lips before I could stop it. "Are the women I... are Emily, Rachel, and Elena in danger?"

The figure’s silence stretched between us like a taut wire, and I felt my heart hammering against my ribs.

"Tell me!" I shouted. "Are they going to be okay?"

"Dullahan is what mortals might call a hyper-aggressive virus," she began slowly, her words measured. "Your body has spent a lifetime learning to coexist with it, developing defenses and adaptations. But the women who have received fragments of Dullahan’s essence... their journey will be far more treacherous."

My mouth went dry. "What does that mean?"

"The human brain, when overwhelmed by rapid cellular destruction and regeneration, can experience severe neurological episodes. These might manifest as vivid hallucinations, uncontrollable violent outbursts, complete memory loss, or a total dissolution of self-awareness. In extreme cases, this psychological fracturing can lead to self-harm or even death."

The lake around us seemed to grow darker as her words sank in.

"No...no...it can’t be..."

"But," the figure continued, and I looked up at her with desperate hope, "you can save them."

"H...How?!" The word tore from my throat.

"Dullahan possesses what could be called a stabilizing agent—a component that prevents the neurological backlash you yourself would have experienced as an infant. During your intimate encounters with these women, this agent was introduced along with the viral fragments."

Relief flooded through me so powerfully that my knees nearly buckled. "Then they’re safe? The stabilizing agent will protect them?"

But she shook her head, and my brief moment of hope crumbled to ash. "A single introduction will not be sufficient."

"What do you mean, not sufficient?" I asked feeling something bad coming.

"The stabilizing agent requires multiple reinforcements to establish proper neurological defenses. Only through repeated exposure will their bodies build the resilience necessary to coexist with the Dullahan fragments they now carry. Until this process is complete, they remain at risk."

The full meaning of her words slowly dawned on me.

"You’re talking about... repeated intimate contact," I said, hoping I understood something wrong.

"Precisely."

"What the hell?!" I exploded, glaring at the luminous figure with a mixture of outrage and disbelief, my face fully tinged crimson

"The choice, as always, remains yours," she said with what sounded like gentle amusement. "But consider this: would you rather face temporary embarrassment, or live with the knowledge that your hesitation cost them their sanity—or their lives?"

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Not like this. Not at all.

How the hell am I supposed to explain this to them? How do I tell them I infected them? That I gave them another virus—my virus?

And worse, how do I convince them that the only way to survive now is... is to have sex with me. Repeatedly. Because that’s the only way to stop them from turning mad.

This can’t be real.

And Emily... I don’t even know where she is!

My thoughts spiraled, but I forced myself to focus. I turned to the white-cloaked woman before me.

"H...How long until the virus drives them mad?" I asked.

"It could be days... or weeks. It varies from person to person," she said calmly, too calmly. "But make no mistake. It will happen. And the sooner you act, the better chance they have."

I clenched my fists so hard my knuckles cracked.

This was my fault.

"Is it the virus that gave me... these powers?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation away from the guilt gnawing at my insides.

"It is," she replied simply.

I hesitated. "...What is it, really? What is this thing—Dullahan?"

Her eyes—if they could be called that—seemed to glimmer faintly in the pale light. "An entity that cannot exist without a host."

I frowned. That told me nothing. "Then why me? Why did it choose me? I’m nobody—"

"You weren’t chosen for a reason, not in the way you think." Her voice grew sharper now. "Dullahan picked you because you were the closest and viable host when it needed one to survive. That’s all."

So it wasn’t destiny. It wasn’t because I was special. It was chance. Dumb luck—or misfortune.

I didn’t even know what the hell she meant by "viable." I barely understood any of this Dullahan crap.

But I had to know something.

"The virus that spread across Earth—was that a natural outbreak, or... was it planned?" I asked, heart pounding.

Her answer was immediate. "It was brought here."

As expected.

Liu Mei also indirectly meant that.

"By whom?"

"Not someone from your world," she said cryptically. "But know this—if they find out about you, you will be hunted. And not just you—all the women who now carry a part of Dullahan through you. They will be targets too."

I clenched my teeth.

This was spiraling fast. I had only been trying to survive the Infected, but now she was telling me there were others—aliens—who wanted me dead? And anyone connected to me?

I stared at her, trying to make sense of her. Her pale, almost translucent face gave away nothing, and yet I had the sense she wasn’t lying. She hadn’t acted hostile, but she didn’t seem... human either.

"Who are you?" I asked. "Whose side are you even on?"

She didn’t answer.

But I could sense it—beneath that placid mask, she was smiling.

"It’s time for you to wake up."

"Wait!" I reached out for her, desperate for more answers.

"You must survive," she said, her voice growing distant, "and don’t forget—the Infected are no longer your only enemies. And all of them... will now be drawn to your scent. Their goal will be to kill you."

And then she was gone.

"Ryan!!"

A voice—loud, panicked—yanked me back into reality.

I gasped, bolting upright, my chest heaving as I took in my surroundings.

Rachel was leaning over me, her eyes wide with fear. "You’re awake—thank God!"

I looked around, dazed. My head throbbed, and my muscles ached like I’d been hit by a truck. I was lying on the floor of the library. All around, people were moving, shouting.

The air was filled with fear.

"W...what’s happening?" I asked, struggling to stand.

"It’s the Infected!" Rachel cried, helping me up. "They’ve gathered outside—dozens of them! They’re attacking the library!"

"What?!" My heart dropped.

I staggered to my feet and stumbled toward the door, just as a BOOM echoed through the building—the sound of fists—or worse—slamming against the barricades.

I could hear the chorus of moans and snarls outside, the violent pounding shaking the very walls. It was like they’d all gone berserk.

"W...Why are they acting like this?!" Rebecca was nearby, her face pale as a sheet, eyes wide in horror.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

Because I knew.

The white lady’s words echoed through my head like a curse:

"All of them will now be attracted by your scent with the objective to kill you."

And suddenly, it all made sense.

This wasn’t just a random attack. They weren’t hunting just anyone.

They were hunting me and them.

I glanced at Rachel and Elena.

This can’t be fucking real.

"No..." I whispered.

This nightmare had only just begun.