The Tanglebeasts

The ancient stone road stretched before Oliver, winding through an endless landscape of undulating prairies and rocky outcroppings. The road was cracked and weathered, lined with weeds that clung stubbornly to the gaps between stones. He’d been walking for what felt like hours. Ahead, the path seemed to vanish into the foothills of a distant mountain range, their misty peaks barely visible under the pale light of the Breach Between’s silver moon.

The air was cool and tasted faintly of dirt as the breeze blew across the land. It was nowhere near as oppressive as the air in the forest he had just left so many hours ago. His footsteps were the only sounds, echoing on the stone road itself. Large boulders, half-buried in the ground, dotted the prairie, each one looming like a silent sentinel. Oliver felt a peculiar sense of isolation out here, a reminder that he was a stranger in this world, far removed from the comforts of home. He really wished that Lilith could have come with him.

Had she got back safe? Was she being treated alright? His mind whirled wondering how she was doing.

The silver moon above him began to dim, its light fading until it barely illuminated the stones beneath his feet. Having seen it once before, Oliver had realized that the brightening and dimming of the stationary moon was the day and night cycle of the Breach Between. Who knew what came out in the night? He felt an instinctual urge to find shelter, so he hiked down into a small gully off the side of the road. Lilith had warned him but he felt if he kept the road in sight, nothing would happen. Oliver did not want to be caught on the road if something came. There, hidden from sight, he made his bed on a patch of mossy ground, his back pressed against the cool earth. He could smell the damp soil around him and hear the distant calls of creatures he couldn’t begin to name. Oliver closed his eyes and drifted into an uneasy sleep, listening to the quiet murmurs of the night and wrapped his coat tighter around him.

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By the time he awoke, the sky had brightened to a pale gray, the soft glow of morning casting long shadows across the hills. He continued along the stone road, the miles rolling beneath his feet as the landscape gradually changed. The once-flat prairies began to slope upward, giving way to low, rolling hills covered in thick, bristling grass. The boulders grew more frequent and jagged, some towering over him, casting strange shadows that twisted and stretched under the shifting light of the Breach Between.

As he climbed higher, Oliver noticed the moon had taken on a new hue. Its silver glow had faded, replaced by an unsettling amber light that drenched the hills in a sickly, golden haze. A prickling sense of dread crept up his spine.

Shit. He thought to himself. What did she say about the amber moonlight?

In the distance there was a strange gurgling screech when he remembered. Tanglebeasts!

Oliver scanned the hills, his heart pounding, as a distant screech echoed through the valley. Where were they? Had they come? Had they seen him?

Moments later, he saw them: tangled masses of thorny vines, writhing and shifting as they propelled themselves across the ground. They moved like grotesque tumbleweeds, rolling and lurching forward, with tendrils that whipped out like tentacles, pulling them closer with frightening speed. They seemed to materialize from the shadows, their forms hunched and seething with an almost malevolent energy.

Oliver’s pulse quickened, his instincts screaming at him to run. He turned and sprinted up the road. He had to get away. The Tanglebeasts were close behind, their screeches rising in pitch, a cacophony that filled the air sending a deep fear through him. The young man glanced over his shoulder and saw the creatures gaining ground, their thorn-covered vines snapping toward him, reaching out like fingers clawing for a hold. Panic gripped him, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps. He knew he couldn’t outrun them forever, and the realization struck him with chilling clarity: he needed to find a place to hide—and fast.

Just ahead, he spotted the crumbling remains of what may have been a guard tower, half-buried beneath a landslide. It was a relic of another age, its stones weathered and worn, but one section of the wall still stood tall, rising twenty feet into the air. Without a second thought, he veered off the road and scrambled toward it, his boots kicking up clouds of dust as he climbed.

His hands scrabbled for purchase on the rough stone, and he began to haul himself upward, the sounds of the Tanglebeasts growing louder behind him. Oliver could now smell the acrid stench of decay that permeated around him. He climbed faster, driven by fear, his fingers raw and bleeding as he gripped the stones, pulling himself higher and higher until he reached the top of the wall.

Panting, he turned to look down just in time to see the Tanglebeasts converging below. Their vines lashed out, grasping at the base of the wall, pulling themselves upward, inch by inch. Oliver’s heart pounded in his chest as he realized they were climbing after him.

Desperation took hold. The freelance writer spotted a long, splintered beam—a remnant of the tower’s former structure—and seized it, wielding it like a makeshift weapon. As the first Tanglebeast reached the top, he swung the beam with all his strength, the impact sending vibrations up his arms. The creature screeched and tumbled back, its vines writhing in fury as it fell, splintering against the stones below.

Another beast clawed its way up, snapping its thorny tendrils at his legs. Oliver lashed out with the beam, knocking it back. The creatures below let out a chorus of frustrated shrieks, their tendrils scraping against the wall, each one more determined than the last. His arms ached, his muscles burning as he fought them off, swing after swing, pushing back against the relentless tide.

The amber moon above them began to shift, its glow waning and softening into the familiar silver light of the night cycle. Oliver could see the Tanglebeasts reacting, their forms shuddering as if in pain. One by one, they began to retreat, their vines curling inward as they rolled away, some of them exploding into plumes of purple flame. A strange, acrid smoke filled the air, carrying the scent of burnt vegetation and something far fouler.

He watched, breathlessly, as the last of the Tanglebeasts fled, the eerie silence that followed seeming to stretch into eternity. Finally, he sank to his knees, letting the beam fall from his hands, the weight of exhaustion settling over him. His whole body ached, his palms raw and bleeding, his face streaked with sweat and grime.

Laying back against the cold stone, he stared up at the silver moon, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. The night sky above was vast, an endless expanse of stars that seemed to pulse with quiet intensity. Oliver closed his eyes, feeling the chill of the stone beneath him, letting the tension slowly drain from his body.

As he drifted toward sleep, he was dimly aware of the sounds of the night returning—the rustling of leaves, the distant calls of nocturnal creatures, the soft murmur of the wind as it swept across the plains. For now, he was safe, and the darkness offered a fragile sanctuary.

With one last, shuddering breath, Oliver let himself surrender to the pull of sleep, his mind drifting into the comforting silence of dreams.