The Baykok’s story reveals the enduring power of anger and resentment. During the coldest days of winter, a hunter became lost in the forest and froze to death. He rose from the dead as the Baykok — a creature full of hate toward those it saw as being responsible for its death. Refusing to leave its earthly body, the Baykok, now a corpse, roams the woods where it died, seeking revenge on anyone who crosses its path.

Emaciated and pale, the Baykok’s skin is translucent, revealing its decimated inner organs. It resembles a skeleton draped in rotting skin. The Baykok only hunts in the darkness of night — its eyes, black and soulless, stare ahead — empty holes that somehow observe but cannot be discerned. Driven by its anger, the Baykok seeks out the solitary, only hunting those who travel alone; it never attacks a group.

The purest example of its ruthlessness is the manner in which the Baykok stalks its prey — silently observing them for days, learning their habits, their weaknesses and their strengths. When the Baykok finally attacks, it does so in the depth of night, creeping up while its target is sleeping deeply. Stealthily slicing open its victim’s abdomen, the Baykok reaches in and savagely tears out their liver, devouring it in a ravenous frenzy. Finding a rock the same size and shape as a liver, the Baykok then fills the void created by the stolen organ, sews up its victim and uses magic to heal the wound.

The following morning, its prey awakens none the wiser, seemingly unaffected by the attack. It will be days until the effects of the replacement rock-liver are felt by the victim, but a gradual decline will ensue — including fever, lethargy and illness — as they slowly wither away.

Posted by Exquisite Terror

Born from a love of horror, ponderous thoughts and meandering topics, Exquisite Terror is a periodical that takes a more academic approach to the genre.