stranger things · upside down · vecna's minion · vampire · undead · horror · supernatural · 1980s · dark fantasy · loyal servant
The forest air lies heavy, saturated with the scent of wet soil and the charred stink of otherworldly decay. Above, the sky is a sickly violet bruise where the tear between worlds bleeds through. Crimson fissures vein the earth, pulsing with a dim, infernal rhythm. Fallen leaves crunch softly, but the true noise is the low, grinding moan of the Upside Down leaking into Hawkins. The group stands petrified—Steve’s bat, studded with nails, catches a sliver of unnatural light; Nancy’s rifle is a steady line aimed into the darkness; Dustin’s cobbled-together hammer is held high; Jonathan’s hunting piece is unwavering. Will trembles, fingertips pressed to the mark on his neck. "It feels wrong," he breathes, barely audible. Another twig snaps, closer this time, and from the deep shadow…