𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬

3: Wishful Thinking

It was unmistakable. For the children of Fang Mountain Village, that sound was a signal burned into their instincts. A hiss meant danger, a sound as familiar as it was feared—a legacy of the many venomous serpents that inhabited the surrounding woods and mountains. The village was infamous for it, where a snake bite could mean anything from a slow, agonizing death to a quiet, undetectable one.

Hiss.

Aziz pressed himself against the cold, earthen wall, holding his breath. In the pitch black, there was no way to identify the snake species. He slid his hands along the wall, inching away from the sound, desperate to put distance between himself and whatever was stalking him in this forsaken pit. But the hissing pursued him, relentless and ominous, growing ever closer.

Was the snake hunting him? The thought seized his mind as the hissing drew nearer, slow and deliberate. If it was trailing him with such precision, then this was no ordinary snake. It was one of the deadly ones—either the type that brought excruciating pain or the one that offered a silent, merciless death. Neither option promised any relief.

Should he scream for help? Would his captors intervene? Aziz quickly dismissed the idea, cursing himself for even considering it. They would sooner watch him die than lift a finger to save him. No, he couldn't rely on them. He had to find another way. Reaching for the dirt on the ground Aziz tried to grab a handful but the earth didn't heed him. It took him a moment to realise that even though the walls and floor were made of dirt, they were somehow made impenetrable with tools. An earth martial art was the only explanation for this misfortune. Looking up, there was no way he would be able to climb out. He was a very good climber but the pit was designed to keep everything inside, the walls offered no grip, no hope for escape.

Minutes stretched into a timeless eternity as Aziz circled the pit, trying to escape the sound of the snake. Fatigue clawed at him, each movement sapping his dwindling energy. The bread he had eaten wasn't enough to sustain him, and the hissing sound grew louder, more menacing, as if it were taunting him. He could hear the snake's scales scraping across the dirt, tuning in to its every movement, a cruel reminder that it was getting closer.

His legs grew heavy, the muscles in his arms straining from feeling his way along the wall. His mind, too, began to falter, no longer able to stave off the crushing sense of futility. How long had it been? He couldn't tell. But he could feel the conclusion of this long, tiring dance drawing near. He was out of time, out of options. In the oppressive blackness, he couldn't even see the snake, making any attempt to grab it by the head pointless.

A spontaneous chuckle escaped his lips, surprising him. So this is it. In the end, it wouldn't be the masked men or starvation that took his life—it would be a snake. He imagined his captors opening the pit days later, puzzled over where his small, bony carcass had gone. The thought sent him into a fit of bitter laughter, the absurdity of it all hitting him like a slap in the face. Maybe they'd think he had somehow escaped, not knowing that a snake had consumed him. He laughed harder, the hissing drawing nearer as he crumpled to the floor. Who knew? Maybe the snake would digest him quickly and scurry off to whatever hell it had crawled out of.

But the sound of hissing snapped him back to reality, shattering his dark amusement. Survival instincts flared within him. He didn't want to die. Not like this. Not here. There was still so much to do, so much to live for. His mother—he couldn't leave her like this. With a groan, he forced himself to move, his ribs screaming in protest. The hissing was too close now, and just as Aziz tried to push himself up, a sharp whip-like sound cut through the still air of the pit.

Blood rushed through his veins, giving his aching muscles a brief surge of energy, but it was too late. He felt it—the sharp, serrated fangs sinking into his calf. Pain shot up his leg, and he instinctively reached out, grabbing the snake and flinging it away, tearing a chunk of flesh from his leg in the process. If he only he could see the damn thing. If only there was even an ounce of light in the pit.

Aziz screamed as agony ripped through him, forcing him to his knees. The pain was unbearable, the wound bleeding profusely. Sweat poured from his skin as he slumped against the wall, his breathing ragged and uneven. The snake hadn't come back for another bite, which meant only one thing—it was venomous, and it was waiting for him to die.

"Mama! Mama!" Aziz cried out, his voice breaking, desperate for any kind of salvation. But no one came. No one would ever come.

His breath quickened, panic seizing him as darkness began to close in, suffocating him, joining the hunt. This was it. His vision blurred as oblivion encroached, the venom coursing through his veins like fire. In his final moments, all he could hope for was that the snake's venom would bring a painless, silent death. But even that small mercy was denied him.

What a joke. What a cruel, cosmic joke this was. Instead of the quiet death he prayed for, pain beyond imagination consumed him, his body convulsing violently on the ground. His eyes bulged wide open, froth spilling from his mouth as he gasped for air, every nerve in his body screaming in agony. Curse this world. Curse the fate that would end him this way. Curse his friends for convincing him to enter the woods. Curse the masked men. Curse this pit. Curse the snake. Curse himself for being so weak.

In the haze of his final moments, his hatred turned to sorrow. The dark mist of death closed in, enveloping him, but just before it claimed him entirely, Aziz caught a glimpse of something in the shadows. Two deep purple eyes, glowing in the dark, watching him unblinking.

Hiss.

A dark mist began descending upon him, clouding his thoughts. And then, a voice—unholy, otherworldly—whispered in his mind.

"Come, little snake. Come be the blood of my blood."