Hex: Crimson Curse

The night air was still. Cold. Watching.

Heroca stepped out of his house, flashlight in one hand, pocketknife in the other, the map folded tightly in his jacket. The village behind him was quiet, unnaturally so, and every step he took toward the jungle felt like walking into something ancient — something waiting.

But after a few minutes, his gut twisted.

Someone was behind him.

He didn't look back. He stayed calm. The footsteps were light, careful — but not careful enough. He moved to a patch of road lit by a flickering streetlamp, then stopped.

"I know someone's following me," he said flatly, gripping the knife tighter. "It's better to come out than hide."

For a second, the silence pushed back.

Then came a voice — familiar.

"I'm sorry…"

It was her.

Chiko.

She stepped into the light, guilt across her face. "I wasn't trying to spy. I just… I got hungry, went downstairs, and when I came back up, I saw you leaving through the window. You were being weird lately, so I got curious and followed."

Heroca lowered his guard, sighing.

Chiko continued, "Look, I'll go back if it's private or whatever, but if something's wrong, you can tell me. I'm your best friend. Unless… you don't see me like that?"

He looked at her for a long moment.

"I do," he said. "You are my best friend. But this is dangerous, Chiko. I didn't want to drag you into it."

"I'm already in it now. So either you tell me… or I keep following you and probably get eaten by whatever's out there."

He shook his head, then… told her everything.

The ring.

The burning.

The jungle.

The masked man.

His grandmother.

Chiko listened, not flinching once. No panic. No doubt. Just quiet acceptance.

"I believe you," she said finally. "And I'm coming with you."

He tried to argue. Failed. She was too stubborn.

So they walked together into the jungle.

⸻

Both of them had flashlights. Pocketknives. The map was useless, of course — nothing but vague lines and guesses. The deeper they went, the heavier the air became. Trees grew taller, shadows thicker. After a while, a strange fog began to settle around them.

"Smog?" Chiko whispered.

"No… something else."

They pressed forward.

Then, out of the thick veil — it appeared.

The temple.

Ancient, massive, looming between the trees like it had grown from the earth itself. It was cracked, rotting, and haunted-looking — vines curled up its sides like veins. Two long stone pillars flanked the entrance… and at the top of each, two figures stood motionless.

Heroca squinted. "Did you see—"

"They disappeared," Chiko whispered, eyes wide.

They had seen them. One person per pillar. Watching. But the moment they tried to focus… gone.

"You can still back out," Heroca said. "If something happens—"

"I'm coming," she said firmly.

So they approached.

The huge stone door before them stood shut, heavy and unmoving — until it creaked open slowly on its own.

Heroca stared at it. "It's gonna close behind us," he muttered.

They stepped through.

The door slammed shut behind them.

⸻

Inside, the temple was worse. Cold. Silent. The air felt heavy, like breathing under water. In front of them stood another large door, but to their left, a smaller one caught their attention.

"Should we try that first?" Chiko asked.

Heroca walked up to it, but the door wouldn't budge.

Then — the voice.

"Leave this door. Go inside."

Deep. Distant. Right behind his ear.

Heroca froze. "Did you hear that?"

Chiko blinked. "What?"

"The voice… it's him again. He said to leave this door."

Chiko didn't even flinch. "Then let's not mess with it."

They turned.

And the locked door opened on its own behind them. A freezing wind rushed out. Heroca felt dread pour into him like ice water.

Then the voice again:

"Don't go in that door."

They backed away fast, eyes locked on the darkness beyond the frame, waiting for something to crawl out. Nothing did.

They moved to the main door and pushed it open.

Inside was a grand staircase, half-crushed and broken. It split left and right toward the upper floor. Behind the stairwell was an open area — a kitchen, or what used to be one. The floor was soaked in dried blood.

Heroca clenched his jaw. "We should split up. I'll take the right side."

Chiko nodded. "Be careful."

⸻

Heroca opened the first door on the right — a large room with shattered furniture. Dozens of headless bodies were piled in the back, decayed and old.

In the far corner… he saw a hand.

It vanished when he blinked.

He searched the room but found nothing else. Just silence and rot.

Chiko's side wasn't much better. Her first room was like a ruined classroom, old chairs and rotting books scattered across the floor. The pages were too worn to read.

The second room, though… was different.

Dozens of faces — just faces — lined the walls on shelves like trophies. No bodies. No eyes. Just skin.

And one piece of paper sat on a desk, fresh and untouched by time.

Chiko picked it up. Read it.

Her blood went cold.

It was the same thing Heroca had described from his dream. Word for word.

She ran out and called him over.

She told him, "It's the same dream you told me."

Heroca stared at the page. The words — they matched his memory exactly. The temple, the blood, the mask… even the part where the woman was lying dead.

But then, something hit him.

The woman in the vision — it wasn't his grandmother. In the dream, he'd assumed it was. But now, reading this page… the details were too exact, too vivid — and unfamiliar.

This wasn't his dream.

This was someone else's reality.

The woman on the ground wasn't his grandmother — it was the wife of whoever lived this nightmare.

"This… this actually happened," Heroca said quietly.

As he turned to show Chiko, the paper suddenly caught fire on its own — edges curling into black. Before they could stop it, the entire page burned away, turning to ash in seconds.

They said nothing.

The temple around them creaked.

And somewhere, far below them — something stirred.