What had been done should never have been tried. Things outside of this world are meant to stay there, not be invited in with a crimson welcome mat. But invite something they had, through a long process that dragged on literally for years before reaching now, the final night, the culmination of all of their efforts. Tonight, they would invite their guest in, with a prepared host primed to be occupied to give their guest form.
At least, that had been the goal. They didn't know that their ‘host’ was far from willing, and that his rejection of their gruesome guest would result in….
Blood dripped from an outstretched claw, the appendage seeming to writhe in the dim light of the fallen torch. The villagers’ clergy had long told them that this night would be filled with screams, of pain and delight, so those who hadn't yet been visited ignored the sounds, putting them out of mind. This served the unintended one just fine, as it's claw split apart into a squirming mass of tendrils that sank into the blood that was pooling from the corpse, absorbing the red fluid into itself.
Buried away, a man screamed, his mind refusing to believe what was happening to him. Nothing he tried could stop it, it just kept going on and on, claiming more and more as it progressed. His fears had overwhelmed him now, his mind on the verge of breaking from the atrocities his body bore.
This slowed the creature down not in the slightest. It advanced through the dark night, long, thin, red worms snaking away from its writhing skin. It continued its hunt, its questing, seeking tendrils slithering under doors into houses, finding people - and piercing them, draining them dry into little more than husks.
The man struggled, desperately trying to stop what was happening - he hadn't wanted this, never desired this, this slaughter that was happening. He couldn't tell if it was his own, unknown desires driving it, or if he was already lost - and the thought that he would never have control again sent a fresh bolt of terror through him.
Another flash of red as a man came out of his house, arms wide open in invitation. The guest paused, studied the man for a moment - then its arm spread open like a flower unfurling, a wide net of threads woven together into petals of a rose. The net shot forward and wrapped around the man, and for a moment he seemed delighted - and then his skin was pierced, and he could feel his blood being drained from his body, and his voice became just another cry in the copper-scented air.
Through the night the unintended guest went, stating its thirst and hunger on the ones who had opened the door and let it in. It could feel its powers waning as the dawn approached, so it sped up, intending to finish its bloody work.
But it stumbled, fear thrown at it finally as its host figured out how to use his terror against the invader. Red tendrils burst forth, hurrying to take the last few lives, splitting apart -
And then in a shower of red, the mass of tendrils fell away, scattering to the ground. Left behind was a shaking, shivering figure, his body trembling, vibrant red lines crossing his body in every direction. He thought he was free, his body shaking as fear drained out of him.
And then something red thin and wet traced against his skin. The man twisted his head and screamed -
