Above the road on the hill where the cemetery stood in Ebisuura, a black dog stalked through the aisles of forgotten graves. The man in the car, who saw it for a split second before turning back to the road, let out a small curse. The dog had followed him to the island.

The local residents hadn’t heard of the legend surrounding Black Dogs. They had other creatures to worry about. Until the man arrived— and the dog followed.

People had heard about the new English teacher arriving in town. There was nothing outwardly notable about the man from his predecessor. Average in height and looks, the townspeople figured he was another American on the island to teach the kids some English games and drink delicious sake. Both of which were true. Unfortunately, the being that followed the man had its own plans.

Years back amongst the trenches, the man had heard a shrill war cry. It cut through the din— and each man knew that the four black dogs of war had been loosed. They cared not for sides— only fatal completion. What had seemed a childhood fairytales became a waking nightmare as the spectral hounds ripped apart the men in Graham’s unit. It was only the arrival of a new day that saw the dogs disappear into a haze.

Graham had been running since that day— careful to avoid any conflict sites or even small scale disputes. After his arrival on the island, he thought he’d finally be safe. A sleepy, backwater island— how he was wrong.