“I feel very strange.” I said, noticing how disconnected I was from everything.

Memories were a blur, I recalled fire and screaming, the gallop of horses, the shape of steel blades. It was too indistinct, I knew the village was under attack, but I couldn’t parse if this was before or now.

What I did know is that my sister was somewhere and the sir knight would help us. I just need to listen to the knight and everything will be alright.

“You all know what you need to do?” The knight's elder associate asked the group.

There were five of us in total, two men I knew vaguely and Sandra the village seamstress. They had also been recruited in this work for the knight. Those villains that attacked the village were attacking the castle.

Many other villagers escaped the horrors that befell us, seeking safety behind strong walls. I only wished we had that chance. Only Emily the villages pride and joy left with her father before the attack. I hope she is well in the castle.

I looked around at my comrades, they looked very odd. They were transparent and insubstantial, but that must be a trick of the light. I just needed to focus on my task, when I was done, Sir Felmun would help me find my sister and all would be right again.

The knight's associate, his name was Belus I think. Strange elderly fellow, dressed in dark hooded robes and holding a walking stick. Or was that a staff? Was he a wizard perhaps?

I ignored this, it was not important, Belus said so and he seemed trustworthy. He brought us outside the castle and told us to travel north and then west. Despite the distance, we made great time and I wasn’t even tired.

Arriving at the enemy camp, I felt an odd pull, looking down at my chest I noted an odd silver cord. I hadn’t noticed it before. It extended from my stomach out into the distance and then stopped as if it were severed.

Suddenly the cord lengthened, casting off like a fishing line upon a river bank. My comrades all had silver cords as well, Sandra’s lengthened far off until it snapped into place. That was the only way I could describe it.

Her form rose into the air and was flung far off into the distance. The others followed suit, their cords pulling them like a fisherman with a good catch. Looking down at my cord, I could feel the tug and soon I bounded into the sky.

With a flash, my view shifted and suddenly I found the world of monochrome, which had been my world a few moments ago, shifted to brighter colours. I was no longer on the outskirts of the camp. Instead, I was in front of a tent, the weight of a wooden crate could be felt in my arms.

“Why is that one stopping?” A gruff man said.

“No idea, maybe I commanded it wrong.” A younger voice spoke.

I glanced around observing my surroundings. The two men who spoke were outfitted in leather armour, swords were sheathed at their belts and they both had the air of violence around them.

“It’s looking at me.” The older man said, disgust plain on his face.

“Take the crate into the tent, you halfwit!” The younger man commanded.

Not wanting to cause a fuss I obeyed the order, continuing into the tent. Placing the crate with the others, I continued on with other monotonous tasks. It was surprisingly easy to just go with the flow. Pick up the crate, take the crate to a tent and repeat as ordered.

It felt so easy to get lost in the rhythm. I don’t know how long I simply obeyed orders, but I found myself in a group of others. The men in leather armour had left us standing in a large tent.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

No one moved, we all just gathered together and stood still and quiet. Glancing at the man beside me, I asked him a question. “What are we doing?” My voice came out rough and raspy, nothing like my actual voice.

The man turned to me, his face coming into full view. Its face was desiccated and shrivelled, he looked like a corpse. The only word that came to mind was, undead. I was in a tent filled with the undead.

The situation struck me like a hammer, I was surrounded by undead. I wanted to shiver, quake in fear. Yet I remained calm, content and without any concern. These undead monstrosities held no threat to me. I had no clue how I knew this, I just did.

I pondered what this meant until a thought struck me. I have a job to do, I need to save my sister. The knight will help, all I need to do is what I’m told and everything will be alright.

I quickly turned to the tent's exit, bidding farewell to the undead as if I were leaving some friends. Once outside, I noticed a lack of guards. I wondered why they were so lax around undead in their camp. Turning right I started walking, none of the passersby even batted an eye at my presence. Did the wizard cast a spell on me?

“Is that someone’s undead servant?” Someone said.

I looked around for this undead, not seeing any around me. Shrugging I continued, I had a job to do and shouldn’t dawdle, less the men with swords start to notice. Looking around I tried to locate my target, If I followed the camp dwellers I could estimate where the main sources of food were stored.

Many people were wandering around the camp, mercenaries, and groups of undead trailing behind pale and sickly men. Walking by an open tent, I noticed a woollen brown cloak. Deciding theft was necessary, I donned the article. Just in case whatever magic the wizard cast failed.

I moved over to the side, watching the hustle and bustle of the camp. They were ferrying undead and supplies around. I noticed a large mass of skeletons and zombies marching southward. I still didn’t understand why I felt so calm with them around, normally undead scared me witless.

I couldn’t find what I was looking for so I just kept wandering. Sifting through the camp, I noticed a familiar figure entering a tent. The dishevelled blonde hair, small frame and general bearing were extremely familiar.

Drawn like a bee to honey, I followed after the figure. Outside the tent I peered in, listening to the conversation.

“She is pretty for an undead, very intact.” One of the men said.

There was a pair of sellswords inside, they both were ogling the familiar woman, and she stood silently. Their eyes raked her form, they did not attempt to hide their lecherous gazes.

“Your not thinking of doing it with a corpse?” The other sellsword questioned his companion.

“Why not, she is pretty for a dead girl and beside noone is going to know.” He said conspiratorially.

His hands went to the girl's chest as he started to undress her. “You're sick, I’m out of here.” The second man made to leave.

I quickly moved to the side and pretended to loiter as he passed by without a glance. With the man gone, I silently entered the tent. The man’s back was now to me and the girl's identity was laid bare.

Without a second thought, I stomped on the man’s back. Rage fueled every step as I saw his hands upon her body. Before he could turn around, by instinct I grappled the man’s mouth, silencing him.

I plunged my fist into his spine, sinking through flesh like dipping my hands into a stream of water. He struggled for a moment, blood gushed from his back. With a single tear, I removed his head and tossed it to the side.

Blood stained my hands but none of that mattered. I went to my dear sister, frantically covering her exposed chest. She made no response, merely stood as silent as a statue.

“Sister its me Sam, its okay? Everything will be fine now, your safe.” I took her into a warm embrace, but could only feel cold. “What did they do to you?” I asked, receiving only silence.

I looked deep into her glassy eyes and I knew. I knew but in the name of the Abyss, I won’t say it. My gaze drifted to her neck, the scar across it forced memories upon me. Visions I could no longer ignore no matter how I tried.

The sword in my gut, the gleeful man that held the weapon. The sight of my screaming sister as another wretch violated her before my fading eyes. Just as the memory ended I witnessed a blade slice across her throat, she was left to bleed and die.

I fell to my knees, the corpse of my sister remained standing, oblivious to her brother's sorrow. I tried to cry, but the tears wouldn’t shed, I was cold and hollow. I was dead, my sister was dead. Everyone I knew is dead and yet I am still here.

Why am I here, I should be called to whatever fate the gods deem fair. Instead, I am stuck in this horrific world, weeping without tears as the soulless husk of my sister stands motionless.

“You done being a necrophiliac.” The voice of the man that left flowed in.

As if drawn by an unseen hand, I grabbed the sword my victim left. Rounding upon the other one, I plunged the blade through his throat and out the back of his neck. He barely had time to register he was dead, so busy was he downing that fowl-smelling ale.

“I will kill you all.” I said weeping empty tears as the man died.