All Chapters of CEREBUS: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The storm had passed by dawn, leaving the gum trees dripping with silver droplets and the gravel drive slick with puddles that reflected the pale orange light of morning. The air was sharp with the scent of wet earth and eucalyptus, and in the branches above the clearing, lorikeets screeched and flashed their wings like shards of stained glass.Inside the old timber farmhouse, Ellie Carson sat cross-legged on her bed, clutching a puppy to her chest. He wasn’t like the others. He never would be.His body was small and warm, tucked inside the folds of her jacket, but he squirmed and wriggled, never still. One head yawned, jaws trembling around tiny milk teeth; another whined softly into her sleeve; the third sniffed and licked her chin. Three voices in one body, each demanding her attention.Ellie smiled sleepily, though she hadn’t closed her eyes all night. Every time she tried, the pup stirred. One head would whimper. Another would grow restless. The third would cry, lonely in the dar

The farmhouse backyard was no longer just a backyard.What once was a sprawl of grass and lemon trees had been transformed into something else entirely — a battlefield, a gym, and a sanctuary. Stacks of hay bales leaned against the back fence, some riddled with dents from fists, others torn apart by teeth. Wooden poles, hammered into the dirt, stood like crude sparring dummies wrapped in duct tape. Rusted cans were stacked in pyramids along the fence, toppled and re-stacked so many times that the ground beneath them was scarred with divots.And in the middle of it all stood Ellie, sweat plastering strands of hair to her brow, a broomstick clutched like a rapier. She lunged, jabbed, spun, her feet sliding across the dust. Across from her, three sets of eyes followed every movement. Alpha tracked her with rigid discipline, Beta measured her rhythm, and Gamma — cheeky Gamma — waited until just the right moment before springing forward in a mock attack.“Too slow,” Ellie barked, sidestepp

The cell was cold.Not the kind of cold that prickled your skin — but the kind that sank beneath the fur, into bone, into soul. A sterile cold, a dead cold.Steel walls pressed in on all sides, painted a pale gray that swallowed hope. Fluorescent tubes hummed above, pouring out light without warmth. There were no shadows. No corners to hide in. No place to belong.Cerebus lay on a padded floor, his bodies heavy with a stillness that was not sleep. Alpha’s muzzle rested over his paws, lids half-closed, chest rising faintly. Beta’s eyes flicked open sometimes, tracking the cameras. Gamma’s tail, once forever wagging, dragged limp against the floor.They had been here too long.Days blurred. Poked and prodded by hands that smelled of rubber and antiseptic. Numbers called out instead of names. “Specimen 43.” “The Subject.” “Mutation.”But none of it cut as deep as Ellie’s absence.He didn’t know about the barricades of armed men. The signatures and stamped papers. The court orders declari

Sirens blared.Red strobes pulsed like angry heartbeats along the steel corridors. Radios crackled, boots pounded, shouts rose in overlapping waves.But none of the soldiers, none of the scientists, none of the reinforced blast doors were ready for what had awakened.Cerebus stood in the wreckage of his cell — chains dangling like snapped vines, steam curling from his breath. Gamma’s muzzle had melted clean off, and Alpha and Beta had torn theirs in half with one violent wrench. Sparks still hissed across the floor where his restraints had fried.Alarms couldn’t drown his growl.He was no longer afraid. He was remembering.And standing before him, wide-eyed, grime-streaked, clutching a battered flashlight, was Ellie.“Hey, big guy,” she whispered, voice breaking between disbelief and joy. “Miss me?”The beast surged forward. All three heads buried into her chest at once — Alpha whining low, Beta pressing his muzzle against her shoulder, Gamma licking her face in frantic, slobbering a

Somewhere in Turkey – Mount AraratThe night was quiet before it broke.Shepherds sang low songs to the wind, voices carried through the valleys where goats grazed and dogs patrolled the edges of torchlight. Stars spilled over the mountain like silver dust, and the old stone ruins — remnants of temples to gods no one prayed to anymore — slumbered under centuries of soil.Then the earth shifted.Not much. Not loud. Just wrong.A faint vibration rolled through the ground, so small the shepherds thought they’d imagined it. They’d survived earthquakes before. This was nothing.Until the animals screamed.Goats rammed themselves against fences, snapping wood. Dogs howled in terror, bolting in circles as if chased by ghosts. A mare collapsed in her paddock, legs thrashing, eyes white with fear. Even the owls abandoned their perches, wings thrumming against the night.The wells began to steam.At first, villagers thought someone had dumped firewood into the water. But when they touched the s