By Kadrolsha Ona Carole
The Icefang Chronicles
It started as an innocent discovery—an old, leather-bound tome buried in a box of forgotten relics in the attic. The cover bore no title, only the imprint of something sharp… like fangs. The pages smelled of damp decay, and the ink bled like veins across brittle parchment. When Daniel found it, he thought nothing of the warnings etched in ancient script on the first page:
“Read, and be devoured.”
He read anyway.
As his eyes traced the words, a whisper curled through the room, cold and breathy. The flame in the nearby candle sputtered out, leaving only the rustle of unseen movement. Then, from the book’s depths, the ink itself shuddered and peeled away, taking shape, folding over itself—until it became something.
A creature.
It was long, thin as a shadow stretched too far, its limbs jagged like shards of broken ice. Its eyes—void-black—locked onto Daniel before it vanished, spiraling upward to the rafters, blending into the icicles that clung to the roof.
Hours passed. The house grew silent, heavy with a presence unseen, lurking. Then came the shriek.
Daniel ran outside, heart pounding, where he found his dog, Bucky, lying motionless in the snow, his fur slick with something dark. Above, an icicle dripped scarlet, and the creature—now revealed—hissed from its frozen perch.
Panic gripped the town. Guns failed, knives shattered upon its hide. No wound bled, no force could break it. It moved with unnatural speed, slipping from shadow to shadow. Only fire held it back.
And so they trapped it—torches circling the beast as it writhed and screeched. With a final, desperate lunge, it shrank back into the book, its form dissolving into ink once more.
Daniel wasted no time. The book was pressed firmly shut, placed face-down, and buried deep beneath the earth, sealed where no hands could disturb it again.
Or so they hoped.
Because some things… some creatures… never truly die.
Visit KO: https://www.queenoftheparanormal.com