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When the USS Kingsville crossed into the Bermuda Triangle, Ailin Castano felt a wrongness settle over the ship, like something alive and hostile lurking in the salty air. No one had told the crew why they’d come to this place, only that their mission was urgent and required their utmost focus. But as they drifted closer to their destination, reality itself began to twist around them, until at last they found it.
A portal(a door).
Or maybe a wound in the universe. It was hard to tell where its edges were, as if it didn’t belong in three dimensions. It was a spiral of unholy colors and dark radiance, shifting and alive. Its surface writhed with colors beyond human comprehension, beautiful and wrong in a way that clawed at her soul, nauseating her even as she felt herself mesmerized(she wanted to lose herself in it).
She knew, somewhere deep inside, that if she looked for too long, it would consume her(she wanted to let it).
The mission succeeded, they managed to close the door. But the cost was everything. For those who’d touched it were gone, vanished as though erased from existence, and those who remained on the Kingsville would soon discover that a part of it lingered. It had crawled into each of them like an infection, a stain of something ancient and hungry, bound to their very bones(it wasn't bound to them it was them they became it).
Ailin felt it immediately. In her dreams, she was no longer herself but something monstrous, something more. She saw herself pulling free of that swirling wound, clawed hands digging into the fabric of reality, shredding it to ribbons as she dragged herself out. Her skin melted in patches, revealing sinew and glistening muscle beneath. Her arms multiplied, stretching into endless, clawed limbs that reached out in every direction. She wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or if she was being called back(she wanted).
She woke up drenched in sweat, the taste of iron heavy on her tongue. Her skin itched and burned, as though there was something just beneath the surface, clawing its way out. Soon after, she began vomiting dark, thick blood that seemed to cling to her like tar. And in the blood, she saw… herself. Eyes blinked open within the glistening red, gazing up at her from the sink. She reached down, unable to resist the urge to touch it, and felt it quiver under her fingertips, as though it were her own skin(she smiles with too many mouths and too many teeth).
Ailin’s body was changing. Strange gashes opened on her arms, deep red and raw, yet they didn’t bleed. Instead, her expelled blood pooled in those open wounds, as if they were hollow vessels waiting to fill. Her fingers elongated, her nails sharpening into dark talons. Small slits appeared on her skin, opening like tiny mouths, each one whispering things she couldn’t understand but instinctively knew to be true. She was becoming something beyond human, something closer to the door itself(the rest couldn't see her yet).
When she looked around at her bunkmates, she could see the changes in them, too, though they were still in the early stages. Their skin was blistering in patches, stretching too tightly over bones, and strange, inky veins appeared around their eyes. They scratched at themselves in the dark, muttering in confusion, unable to put words to what was happening to them. She could see that they were horrified, struggling against the infection. But for Ailin, there was no struggle. There was only… longing(they started to see).
She didn’t thirst for blood, she craved connection. She wanted her bunkmates to become like her, to join her in this strange, otherworldly state. She wanted siblings, a family to share the transformation(a family to keep to hoard to protect they would be hers they would be her).
She could feel her influence seep into them, reaching out with invisible threads, pulling them into the dark. She would watch them at night, eyes open all over her skin, silently willing them to give in. And one by one, they did(they saw).
It started slowly. Her closest friend on board began waking in the middle of the night, clutching his stomach in pain, only to find his skin turning a sickly shade of gray, his mouth filling with the same thick blood that Ailin had expelled. When he caught her watching, she would hold out her hand, dark blood pooling in her palm, and he would drink. She would watch with eager delight as his face twisted, bones breaking and reshaping beneath his flesh, his eyes turning black and hollow, teeth lengthening into something that was no longer human. And when his gaze met hers, he was no longer her friend; he was her brother(he was her and they would be too).
The transformation spread like wildfire after that. Others began to seek her out, drawn to her by an insatiable urge to become one them (to be her).
They would come to her in the dead of night, clawing at her, begging for a taste of her blood. She would open her arms, allowing them to drink, watching as their bodies convulsed, twisted, and reformed. Some of them grew extra limbs, arms that split at the elbow into claws. Some grew new mouths on their torsos, rows of teeth gnashing in hunger. Others sprouted eyes that wept black tears down their cheeks.(they are beautiful)
She loved each of them, felt every new sibling grow into something greater, something far beyond human. She nurtured them, tended to their wounds as if they were fragile flowers blooming in the dark. They became her family, bound together in a way deeper than blood. They could feel each other’s thoughts, hear each other’s whispers, see through each other’s eyes. She had given them everything she had, and in turn, they worshiped her, their monstrous god, their sister in blood and transformation(they became other, they were one).
The ship itself became an extension of her will. The floors pulsed with a heartbeat that none of the human crew could hear, but her siblings felt it, thrumming through the walls, calling to them. Veins of dark, shimmering color crept along the metal, filling the corridors with a faint, eldritch glow. Doors no longer separated them; they moved as one, flowing through the ship’s halls like shadows, feeling every pulse, every breath of every remaining human on board(soon they would join them in the other and it would be glorious).
The last of the crew tried to fight, barricading themselves in locked rooms, whispering desperate prayers. But Ailin could see through walls now, her many eyes watching them from every angle, comforting her siblings with the knowledge that soon, they too would join. She left trails of her blood outside the sealed doors, knowing it would call to them, that its scent would haunt their dreams. One by one, they gave in, opening the doors, stumbling toward her, hungry and desperate(they were becoming).
She held them close, cradling them as they drank, listening as their bones cracked and their skin tore, marveling at the beautiful, horrific creatures they became. Her family grew, her siblings taking new forms with each sip, each one a testament to her love, a twisted creation brought to life by her blood(they and the door are the same).
When the Kingsville emerged from the Triangle, it was no longer a ship—it was a hive, a living, breathing creature, bound to her will. Her siblings spread across its decks, moving like shadows, a legion of eldritch beings bound together by blood and hunger. They were no longer bound by mortal concerns; they had become something greater, something eternal(but they will not be shut out).
Together, they would drift through the dark seas, waiting for the next door, for the next family. They would spread, and the world would tremble before the beauty of their unity, the horror of their love(all would be them, the world would be other).