In a world ruled by a tyrannical retail system that punishes you if you don't buy, supermarkets function like nightclubs, where products have pompous personalities and approach customers aggressively. Manny, a pragmatic young man who relies on his price comparison app to stretch his income, and Theresa, a perfectionist former quality auditor who inspects every label with a magnifying glass, reject predatory pricing and low-quality products. Their rejection causes their AI-activated shopping carts, 222 and 333, to become increasingly frustrated, until they accelerate and crash in a spectacular collision. The security guard, in his stained uniform, blames the two shoppers and takes them to a kangaroo court trial, where the manager is the judge and the security guard is the prosecutor. The injured products testify against them for “not buying,” and despite their defensive arguments, they are found guilty and fined, leaving them without sustenance for the rest of the month. Upon leaving, the protagonists watch as their carts are rebuilt, brighter and more obedient, revealing that the supermarket is a game that allows no escape from consumerism.

Chapter Seven. Life about Elias.

She was born beneath storm clouds and sorrow. Maria Sioux first opened her eyes in the rain-drenched port of Cearporth, a coastal town carved in stone and shadow, on the western cliffs of the Southern Reach. It was the final year of the Iron Clad Campaign, when the Kingdom of France, with its steel-armored battalions and crimson banners, crossed the sea and claimed Cearporth as their own: a short-lived occupation that marked the last breath of French ambition upon English soil. Maria’s mother, a camp follower of uncertain origin, died in childbirth upon a straw-stuffed cot in the cellar of a boarded-up inn. No family came for the child. No soldier claimed her blood. She was swaddled in torn sailcloth and left at the iron-bound gates of St. Leoric’s Cloister, a place of stone silence and cold rituals.

“Wexbridge has fallen” A tale of a cursed, rotten-fleshed sailor – Chapter Five ----------------------------- The horns kept howling. Not in triumph. Not in formation. But in sheer panic. From the high balcony of Ravenhold, nestled deep in the northern quarter of Wexbridge, Duke Alexander stormed from wall to wall, his boots crashing against the ancient stone floors. His cloak whipped behind him as he burst through the doors, stepping into the light. He stared down over his city. Smoke.

“The Siege of Wexbridge” A tale of a cursed, rotten-fleshed sailor – Chapter Four ----------------------------- As the towers of Wexbridge vanished one by one into the rising green mist, it was like watching candles being snuffed out by a breath from the abyss. A sickly glow hung in the air, casting grotesque shadows across the cobbled streets. The skies above darkened with unnatural speed, and a putrid fog began to seep between every crack and crevice of the ancient city. Then the barking began. Dogs howled as if hell had opened behind them.

"The Curse of Caerporth" A tale of a cursed, rotten-fleshed sailor – Chapter Three --------------------------- The green mist, thick with the stench of ancient rot and blood, crept far beyond the devastated harbor town of Caerporth. It slithered like a vengeful spirit, coiling through the fields, curling around stone bridges, and seeping into the wooded hollows that marked the outer edges of the Duke's territory. Few had escaped the massacre, but those who did brought with them, tales so twisted and grotesque that most who heard them dismissed the survivors as mad and irresponsible, because they frightened the young children. They fled to Wexbridge.

"The Curse of the Providence" A tale of a cursed, rotten-fleshed sailor – Chapter Two --------------------------- “Back to the Harbor Town” Gone were the days when the people of the Harbor Town cheered, relieved to see the pirate ship The Dagger’s Wrath turn away and chase after the merchant vessel The Providence. The townspeople cheered, hailing the merchants aboard The Providence as heroes for luring the dreaded pirates of The Dagger’s Wrath away from their shores. This bought the town precious time to fortify its defenses, bringing in hundreds of knighted guards from a nearby castle settlement. No one truly knew what had become of The Providence, or why its crew had seemingly sacrificed themselves. Whispers turned into legends, tales of the merchant heroes who led the pirates away. But then came a day unlike any other. A day when nature itself seemed to turn... and something began to stir on the distant horizon. -----------------------------

"The Curse in the Coffin" A tale of a cursed, rotten-fleshed sailor --------------- “Pirates! PIRATES!!” The scream of a terrified boy echoed across the coastline. He stood trembling at the edge of the weathered wooden quay, his eyes locked on the black sail piercing through the sea mist on the horizon, a tattered Jolly Roger flapping in the wind. Panic spread like wildfire through the harbor town. Civilians ran in every direction. Among them, a group of merchants frantically untied their ship from the quay. The vessel, named The Providence, pulled away from the docks and headed into open waters. Few aboard knew the true reason for their haste… It wasn’t fear of the pirates. It was what they were carrying in their cargo hold. One week ago, deep in the jungle ruins of an uncharted island, the crew unearthed something unnatural: a heavy, rotting, coffin-shaped crate bound in iron. Its wood was blackened as if charred, and it reeked of centuries-old decay. When they first tried to open it, their tools crumbled in their hands, metal rusted to dust the moment it touched the box. Hammers dissolved, crowbars melted like wax. Fear overtook curiosity. Convinced it was cursed, the merchants encased it in a stone sarcophagus built hastily at the edge of the shore. Yet, when rumors of pirate sails approaching spread through town, they decided to take it with them. Their logic: if left behind, the pirates might open it, and if opened, whatever was inside could unleash darkness on the world. From the Eagle’s Nest of the pirate ship The Dagger’s Wrath, a lookout squinted toward the sea. “Captain!” he bellowed. “That merchant ship, she’s fleeing like the devil’s chasing her! Never seen anything like it. They must be hiding something valuable.” Captain Varell, a brutal man with a scarred face and eyes like dead coals, didn’t hesitate. “Hoist the black sails! We take what they’re trying so hard to protect.” Despite The Providence’s head start, it moved slower than expected, burdened by the unholy weight in its hold. The pirates caught up swiftly. Cannonfire tore through the hull, and boarding hooks clanged against the railings. Chaos erupted as steel clashed with steel, and screams filled the ocean air. Within minutes, the pirates overpowered the crew. Blood slicked the decks. A few merchants were left alive, only long enough to reveal the location of the mysterious cargo. Captain Varell and his men descended into the hold, torches flickering in the dark. The air grew colder as they approached the stone tomb. “What in hell’s name is this?” one pirate whispered. “Treasure, perhaps?” said another. “No,” Varell muttered, eyes narrowed. “Something… older.” They pried the lid open with difficulty, using iron chains and brute strength. The air hissed as if exhaling after centuries. A foul stench erupted from the coffin, thick and choking. Inside lay a corpse or what was left of one. Its skin was waxy, stretched tight over half-exposed bone, and riddled with rotting wounds. Its eyes opened suddenly jet black, like ink-filled voids. A low groan, not of pain but of ancient hunger, echoed from its throat. The pirates stepped back in horror. Something was wrong, deeply, unspeakably wrong. Then it spoke, its voice rasping in Ancient Latin, the words rolling like thunder from a forgotten abyss: “Those who awakened me from my slumber… thank you. Now that I am free, I shall cover this world in a darkness you’ve never imagined.” Before they could react, the creature stood, faster than anything that dead should move. A blade, rusted and jagged, appeared in its hand as if summoned by rage alone. It fell upon the pirates and merchants alike, tearing through them with savage precision. Blood sprayed the walls. Screams were cut short. Limbs severed. No soul was spared. When the massacre ended, the deck was silent, save for the sound of bones snapping underfoot. The creature began to feed ripping flesh, cracking ribs, gorging itself until all that remained were piles of blood-soaked bones. As the ship drifted across the sea, ghostly quiet and cloaked in mist, only the cursed one remained, standing at the bow, his black eyes gazing toward the horizon. The sun never rose on The Providence again. And from that day forth, sailors whispered of a cursed ship that sails with tattered sails and a rotting figure at its helm. A sailor of old flesh and older hatred. ------------- Some doors were never meant to be opened. Some coffins should never be unearthed. And some monsters never die… they wait. Written by Armando Gomes Guincho

Composed and Written by Jofiel Nguyen

Bearded Tooth - Final Draft by director/screenwriter Alex Garcia Mallarini