Thorn fastened his cloak around his shoulders, its fabric still cool and slightly damp from hanging to dry. He glanced at Ada as she raised the small vial to her lips, her hands trembling slightly. She took a steadying breath, then drank the potion in one swift motion, grimacing as the bitter liquid slid down her throat.
The faint glow of the potion faded as she lowered the vial, and Thorn noted the determination hardening her expression. They’d prepared it carefully, gathering the ingredients with a shared sense of urgency, every step bringing them closer to this moment. Now, as Ada wiped her mouth, her eyes took on a focused intensity that Thorn hadn’t seen before.
“Ada, are you—” he began, but she cut him off, her voice low but fierce.
“They’re waiting, Thorn,” she said, almost to herself, her gaze fixed on the direction of her home. “We’ve lost enough time already.”
Thorn hesitated, studying her. Only moments ago, her hands had been shaking, her voice softened with uncertainty. Now, there was an edge to her words, an urgency he hadn’t expected. “We’ll get there,” he said gently. “But we need to be careful.”
“Careful?” She shook her head, almost scoffing. “We don’t have time for careful.” Her steps were already taking her forward, her pace brisk and unyielding. “You’ve seen what’s happened to Halrest.”
Thorn stepped forward, trying to catch her eye. “Ada, we don’t know what we’re walking into. You’ve been strong this whole time—don’t lose that caution now.”
She stopped just long enough to glance back at him, frustration flickering in her gaze. “They’re out there, and if there’s a chance, they’re alive… I have to know.”
“Ada,” he tried again, his tone firm but gentle, “the town isn’t just… empty. You saw those things. We don’t know how many of them there are, or where they’re hiding.”
“I don’t care about them,” she replied sharply, turning back to the path ahead. “I can’t care about them. Not when my family might be out there, needing me. Every moment we waste is a moment closer to—” She cut herself off, breathing hard, her hands clenching into fists.
Her urgency made him uneasy, but Thorn didn’t push further. Instead, he caught up, stepping beside her, his instincts telling him to stay close, to be ready. She was barely holding her desperation in check, and he could sense the danger that came with it—a risk that was as much internal as external.
They moved clockwise around the western outskirts of the town, keeping close to the sparse cover offered by the trees and shadows. Thorn scanned the way ahead, noting the northwest entrance looming in the distance, partially obscured by mist. The gateposts were battered, leaning as if ready to give way, and dark algae clung to them in slick patches. Just before the entrance, Thorn slowed, reaching out to stop Ada beside him. They crouched low, both listening, both watching the shadows pooling in the narrow alleys and doorways beyond the gate.
The silence was thick and uneasy, broken only by the faint sound of water dripping from rooftops and the occasional, unsettling creak of wood that seemed to come from deep within the town. Thorn’s hand hovered near his dagger, as he scanned the area one last time. He could sense movement at the edges of his vision, something lurking just out of sight, but there was no time to search further.
Satisfied there were no immediate threats, Thorn gave Ada a brief nod, signalling her to move forward. Together, they slipped through the entrance, stepping cautiously onto the stone path, where every shadow and warped structure seemed to watch them with a silent, foreboding awareness.
Halrest loomed around them like a distorted nightmare, an unsettling blend of decay and silence. The sturdy stone homes, once proud and enduring, now seemed hunched and weary, their walls weighed down by layers of barnacles clinging like scabs to old wounds. In contrast, the wooden houses had fared far worse—warped and broken, their structures sagged as though barely clinging to their frames, with algae draped from the rooftops like rotting, green-veined curtains. The wooden beams had softened, collapsing under the relentless grip of the lake’s dark influence, making the once-quaint homes appear like skeletal remains left to rot.
The air grew thick and suffocating, laden with the stench of salt, rot, and something indescribably foul—the putrid scent of things dragged from the depths and left to fester. Sickly green fungi pulsed in the cracks between stones, casting an unsettling, wavering glow that illuminated the warped edges of doors and windows, transforming ordinary shadows into grotesque shapes dancing along the walls.
As they pressed onward, their movements cautious and deliberate, Thorn’s senses strained to catch any sound, any movement. Every faint creak and drip heightened his tension, ready to act, though he knew in his weakened state he wouldn’t last long in a fight.
He glanced at Ada again. She moved with a steady determination, her gaze fixed on the path ahead, but her face was pale. The tightness in her jaw and the slight tremor in her hands betrayed the struggle within her. She wasn’t only facing the nightmarish creatures lurking in Halrest’s shadows; she was confronting the haunting possibility that her family—her sister, her mother—might already be lost to this waking nightmare.
"Thorn," she whispered, her voice wavering for the first time since they’d started this journey through the ruined streets. "What if… what if they’re not there?"
He didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to. What could he say? He’d seen the ruins, the creatures, the twisted, unnatural world that Halrest had become. Could anyone survive this?
But he couldn’t take that hope from her. Not now.
"We’ll find out soon enough," he said instead, his voice steady, though inside he felt the weight of their helplessness pressing down on him.
Their pace quickened, their eyes constantly scanning the waterlogged streets for signs of movement.
Halrest had been torn apart, as if something ancient and vile had risen from the depths of the lake and claimed it for its own. Thorn couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just a flood, but something far worse—something that had taken root in the very bones of the town and was now spreading its influence, twisting everything it touched.
The ground beneath their feet felt wrong, unstable, as though the earth itself had surrendered to the lake’s creeping grasp. The once-familiar streets now had the unsettling look of something that belonged at the bottom of the lake, eerie and submerged, even in open air.
Thorn’s gaze swept the area, taking in the warped, abandoned buildings around them. Each structure leaned in odd angles, and puddles reflecting the dull, overcast sky created strange illusions of depth beneath their feet. Just as they turned a corner, a sudden figure loomed ahead, causing them both to freeze.
A transformed figure—a twisted, bloated silhouette of a once-human form—stood near the door of a crumbling home, its back turned. Thick barnacles encrusted its limbs, and sickly green veins pulsed across its skin, glowing faintly in the dim light. The creature swayed slightly, as if breathing, its head cocked at an unnatural angle, twisted away from them. Its fingers, too long and gnarled, scraped idly against the doorframe, producing a faint, scraping sound that sent shivers down Thorn’s spine.
Ada stifled a gasp, her hand flying to her mouth. Thorn’s arm shot out, steadying her while he held a finger to his lips, his eyes never leaving the creature. Every instinct screamed at him to avoid a fight—he could see from its hulking, distorted form that it was something they couldn’t easily overpower, not in his weakened state.
They had mere seconds.
Thorn carefully pulled Ada backward, guiding her step by silent step, his gaze flicking from the creature to the path they had come from.
The creature remained unaware of them, its attention focused on some unknowable fixation as it let out a faint, shuddering sigh that echoed down the silent street.
Ada’s eyes darted toward a narrow alleyway to the left. She glanced at Thorn, her gaze urgent but questioning. He gave a quick nod, and they slipped back the way they’d come, ducking into the passageway.
Once they were out of immediate view, Ada moved ahead, her steps quick and frantic as she glanced back, ensuring the abomination hadn’t noticed. She pointed to a route that would keep them clear of the creature’s sightline, threading through puddle-streaked pathways and skirting around collapsed structures.
Thorn kept close behind, feeling the surge of her desperation, as if it were a tangible force pulling him forward. Her eyes flicked frantically between the broken buildings, each step hurried, her breathing ragged—a person tumbling toward the last flicker of hope in a collapsing world.
As they rounded another corner, leaving the creature out of sight, Thorn exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The encounter left his body tense, his senses on edge, as the silent reminder of what waited for them in Halrest hung heavy in the air.
Every step felt like it drew them deeper into a nightmare unravelling around them, as if they were crossing from the edges of horror to its very heart.
“Please…” Ada’s voice trembled, barely audible. “Please, let them be here…”
“Ada, careful,” Thorn cautioned, his voice low and firm, carrying an edge of authority, like a father warning a daughter. But she ignored him, her steps quickening, her focus solely on the house ahead. Thorn felt a surge of unease. She wasn’t listening, wasn’t slowing down, and he knew he had to reach her—make her pause, if only for a moment.
“Ada,” he repeated, closing the distance, his tone taking on an urgency. She spun around, her voice breaking with raw emotion.
“I don’t care!” she snapped, her eyes wild, glistening with a fierce desperation. “I don’t care, Thorn! I have to find them!”
The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of her loss. Thorn felt a pang in his chest, an uncomfortable tightening that he couldn’t ignore. He understood loss, perhaps more deeply than she could imagine, but for her, the pain was still raw, unrelenting.
Halrest wasn’t his home, and these people weren’t his family. He’d witnessed enough devastation to understand the scars it left behind, knowing all too well that some wounds never truly healed.
“Ada…” He softened his voice, his tone almost pleading.
Her gaze hardened as she recoiled, "No, you don’t understand!” she shouted, her voice trembling. “They’re all I have. My mother, my sister… they’re all I have left!”
Thorn caught the faintest sob beneath her words, the fragile knot of hope she clung to unravelling. She turned away, her shoulders tense with the effort to keep her tears at bay, to keep her grief at arm’s length, out of reach even from him.
He took a cautious step forward, his hand reaching out. “I know… I know you’re hurting,” he began, but she pulled back, her gaze defiant, unwilling him near the pain that threatened to break her.
“Please, Thorn,” she whispered, her voice barely holding back the tears. “Just… let me look. Let me find them.”
Thorn hesitated, his hand hovering, torn between pulling her back and letting her go. He could see the storm raging inside her, the desperation driving her forward, keeping her together. He’d been through enough battles to know what they might find—or worse, what they wouldn’t.
He wanted to tell her to prepare herself, to brace for what was ahead. But the look in her eyes silenced him, a glimmer of hope so fierce he couldn’t bring himself to extinguish it.
“Alright,” he said finally, his voice resigned, weighted with the knowledge that she wouldn’t stop until she knew. “But… stay close. Let me take the lead if we run into anything.”
She didn’t answer him. Instead, she took a shuddering breath and turned back to the path ahead, her focus singular, her mind already racing toward her house, to where her family might still be waiting. Thorn followed, his steps heavy, his gaze sweeping the twisted ruins as they moved deeper into the town. His heart pounded as he took in the desolation surrounding them.
They were firmly in dangerous territory now.
“Oh gods…” Ada whispered, her voice barely a breath as her gaze fell on the wreckage of a familiar house. “That’s… that’s Daken’s house…”
She was starting to see it—the true devastation not just of the town but of the lives it once held. The structures that had known warmth and laughter now stood cold and lifeless, the waterline tracing the slow drowning of everything she had ever known.
They passed twisted shapes in the floodwaters—bodies of townsfolk, their forms bloated and distorted, their faces frozen in twisted expressions of terror and pain. Ada barely noticed, her eyes fixed forward, her steps quickening as though she could outrun the horrors around her.
But Thorn noticed. He saw every corpse, every ruin, every dark detail. This wasn’t just a natural disaster; it was an erasure, a complete devastation of the lives these people had once known. And deep down, he feared what they would find—or not find—waiting for them at the end of this path.
She’s going to get herself killed.
“Wait,” Thorn murmured, his hand darting out to grip her shoulder. “Where are you—”
“There!” she gasped, her voice breaking, her hand pointing down the road, her arm trembling violently. “That’s… that’s our house!”
Her voice came out louder than she’d intended, slicing through the heavy silence.
A sudden crash exploded from a nearby house, and a guttural, inhuman growl reverberated through the air. Thorn whipped around, his hand shooting to Zephyr, as he dropped into a stance, readying himself. His breaths came slow and steady, his muscles coiled, but he could feel the strain of the past hours weighing him down. Ada’s eyes widened in terror, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling her gasp. She cowered back, her trembling form pressed against the wall as her gaze locked on the door.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The creature inside had heard her, and now it raged against the barrier, clawing and slamming itself against the rotting wood. With each frenzied impact, the door rattled and creaked, its hinges groaning under the force.
He glanced back at Ada, giving her a hard, reassuring nod, then inched toward the door, his gaze fixed on the thrashing, monstrous form beyond it.
The thing inside slammed itself against the door once more, the wood splintering, as a low, guttural hiss escaped its twisted mouth. Thorn waited, every nerve on edge, poised for the exact moment he would need to strike. He crept forward, the pounding of the creature growing louder, each hit a terrible reminder of the nightmare that Halrest had become.
With one swift motion, Thorn gripped the handle and yanked the door open, stepping back just as the creature lurched forward. It stumbled, momentarily disoriented, giving Thorn the opening he needed. He moved with practiced precision, slashing Zephyr in a smooth arc that cut deep into the creature’s neck. A gurgling gasp escaped it, and it collapsed in a crumpled heap at his feet.
The thing lay still, its grotesque form splayed in the faint light: a half-man, half-fish abomination, its bulging eyes staring blankly, its skin mottled and slimy. Thorn looked away, suppressing a shudder.
The silence returned, heavier than before, pressing down on them as they both stood, catching their breath. Thorn glanced over at Ada. She was pale, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her wide eyes fixed on the creature. The reality of their situation settled over her, more chilling than ever.
She tore her gaze away from the lifeless abomination and met Thorn’s eyes. She could see the exhaustion etched in his face, the slight shake in his hand as he returned Zephyr to its sheath. The battle had been quick but clearly took its toll on him. Ada’s heart clenched, reminded of what it meant to have him here beside her and how quickly that could change.
“Thorn…” Her voice came out in a whisper, barely audible. She swallowed, struggling to keep the fear at bay. “I—”
But he cut her off with a slight shake of his head. “We’re running out of time, Ada,” he said, his voice rough, weary. “I’m not as strong as I need to be.” He gestured toward the creature’s body, his expression grim. “Whatever’s waiting for us might be worse than this… and I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to keep fighting them off. Not like this.”
Ada’s gaze flickered down to the creature, then back up to Thorn, and for a brief moment, her resolve wavered. But the thought of her family, the slim possibility that they might still be waiting, spurred her forward.
“I understand,” she said softly, her voice steadying, a spark of determination rekindling in her eyes. “Then we hurry. We get to my house. We find them—and we get out.”
Thorn nodded, his expression hardening with renewed purpose. “Alright, then. Let’s move quickly. And quietly.”
They both took a final glance at the twisted form lying in the doorway, a grim reminder of what awaited them within the broken heart of Halrest. Then, with measured breaths, they pressed onward, their steps quick, the silence once again thick with anticipation and the ever-present danger lurking just beyond each shadow.
Thorn's gaze darted around, scanning the shadows clinging to the twisted remnants of Halrest. Each creak, each distant splash in the murky water sent his nerves thrumming, the air thick with decay and something unseen pressing closer. They had nearly reached her home, and his heart sank, pity threading through his usual wariness.
As her house came into view, Ada's steps faltered. Her breath hitched, her eyes widening as she took in the familiar structure—crumbling, sagging, the door hanging loosely from one remaining hinge. For a fleeting second, her face softened with relief, as if this battered shell of a home still held promise. But then, with a renewed determination, she surged forward, brushing past Thorn in her haste.
“Ada, slow down,” he whispered.
Ada didn’t hear him. She stepped through the doorway, and Thorn watched as her silhouette disappeared into the shadows of her past. He hesitated, the usual urgency to stay on guard warring with the pull to follow her in, to see if perhaps… He forced the thought aside. Instead, he kept his stance at the threshold, eyes fixed on her fragile figure as she drifted into the dimness of the home she’d once known.
Inside, the house was chaos—overturned furniture, belongings scattered, walls stained with water and soot. It looked as if her family had fled in a rush, leaving everything behind in their haste. Ada moved from room to room, her gaze searching each corner, her hand brushing over empty shelves, her fingers tracing the marks where frames and trinkets had once stood. She glanced into the small bedroom, the kitchen, and finally the cramped storage room, her heart sinking with each empty space.
After a long, trembling breath, she returned to the centre of the house. Her gaze drifted over the remnants of her life, scattered like echoes of the past. Her eyes fell to a small, worn teddy bear lying near her feet, its button eyes staring vacantly up at her. She bent down, picking it up and clutching it to her chest, her expression vacant as her gaze swept across the ruined space.
Thorn's instincts jolted as a flicker of light caught his attention outside. He turned sharply, glimpsing the faintest glimmer below the dark surface of the water that cut through the town. It was barely noticeable at first, but with each second, it grew stronger, pulsating with an unnatural rhythm that cast shifting shadows through the broken windows and warped walls. Thorn’s brow furrowed. His heart drummed as he took a steadying breath and, moving quietly, he stepped forward and shut the door with a firm yet silent hand, blocking out the glow.
He turned back to Ada, his voice low and urgent. "Ada, we need to go. Now."
She didn’t seem to hear him. Standing in the centre of the wrecked room, she clung to the teddy bear, her voice a fragile murmur. "They’re not here… but they’re not… they’re not gone." The hint of hope in her words sounded hollow, as though she clung to it against all reason.
Thorn moved toward her, his tone firm but gentle. "Ada, it’s not safe. We have to leave."
She shook her head, backing away from him, her gaze unfocused. "I can’t leave, Thorn. What if they come back? What if they need me?"
Her voice cracked, and he watched as her expression shifted, her emotions unravelling. Wild ideas began tumbling from her lips, desperate thoughts in a frantic stream. “Maybe… maybe they’re in another part of town. Or hiding! Yes, maybe they’re waiting somewhere for me. I could search the other houses—or I could stay here, just in case… in case they come back…”
Thorn felt a painful tightening in his chest. He realized now what this moment was costing her. She was slipping, letting herself fall into denial, clinging to hope in a way that veered toward reckless. She wasn’t seeing the danger, only an impossible lifeline.
“Ada,” he said softly, reaching for her shoulder. “This isn’t safe. They wouldn’t want you to risk yourself like this.”
Her head snapped up, her eyes blazing with a mix of defiance and despair. She gripped the teddy bear tightly, her voice rising. “Don’t you get it?” she cried, raw desperation twisting each word. “I have to find them! I can’t just leave!”
Her shout tore through the silence, echoing off the broken walls, a sound too loud, too charged for this haunted place. Thorn froze, his heart plummeting, as a dense, suffocating quiet settled over them. His pulse thudded in his ears as he held his breath, every muscle tensing, every instinct flaring, hoping—praying—that nothing outside had heard her.
In an instant, Thorn sprang into action, reaching for a chair and wedging it against the door. His jaw clenched as he tried to reinforce the fragile barrier with random items.
He glanced back through the window, his heart pounding. The light outside seemed to throb faster, pulsing brighter with each beat. It cast long, distorted shadows that writhed like dark phantoms across the walls, flooding the house with an ominous glow. Thorn’s instincts screamed at him; something was coming.
His eyes darted toward Ada, still clutching the bear, her face a desperate mask of barely suppressed panic.
“Ada, listen to me. We have to stay quiet. There’s… something out there.”
Ada’s breaths came in sharp gasps as she looked at him, her hope crashing against the walls of reality. “What are we supposed to do?” she whispered, her voice barely holding together.
He glanced back at the door, his body tense, ready to move. “We leave, Ada. Now. Before whatever is out there gets any closer.”
But just as he spoke, the flickering glow intensified.
She stared at the door, confusion flickering in her eyes, her mind still clinging to the hope that her family might somehow walk in.
The light outside began to shift oddly. The glow grew brighter, yet strange shadows flitted across it, like something was passing in front of it—many somethings. Thorn’s pulse quickened.
He swiftly moved to her side; eyes locked in the direction of the light. The pair huddled down as they listened to the faint, sickly sounds from outside—low, wet breaths and a dragging sound that sent chills racing down their spines.
The silence stretched, thick with tension. And then came the first hit—a sickening thud against the door, followed by another and another, each strike rattling the flimsy barrier as the creatures clawed at the wood, their desperate growls and shrieks filling the air. Ada’s eyes widened, terror taking hold as the reality of what lay beyond the door crashed over her.
“Thorn,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “What… what are they?”
Thorn didn’t answer, his attention fixed on the door as it shuddered under the assault. Figures began pressing up against the windows, pale faces distorted, empty eyes staring inside. Their twisted forms smeared against the glass, each impact sending spiderweb cracks splintering across the surface.
The groans and screams grew louder, filling the small room, their sickly voices carrying an almost pleading quality that turned Thorn’s stomach. He glanced at Ada, whose face had turned ashen, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as her mind struggled to reconcile the horror outside with the sliver of hope she’d clung to.
“Ada… listen to me, we need to leave,” Thorn urged, his voice barely more than a whisper.
She hesitated, her gaze drifting back to the teddy bear in her hand. “What if… what if they’re out there, Thorn? What if…”
Her words trailed off, a hollow despair settling over her face as the truth began to sink in. She knew, deep down, that what lay outside was beyond anything her family could survive. But denial held her in place, her grip on the bear tightening as she struggled to hold onto hope.
[start]
Suddenly, the door shuddered under the weight of the assault, splintering as a monstrous head forced its way through the crack, twisted and grotesque. Thorn reacted instantly, pulling Ada back and clamping a hand over her mouth to silence her startled gasp. His heart hammered as he held her close, eyes darting toward the front door. He knew they had only moments before the creatures would break through.
The door shuddered under the weight of the assault, splintering as a monstrous head forced its way through the crack, twisted and grotesque. Thorn felt the tension in Ada's body as she froze in horror. Without hesitating, he tightened his grip on her and pulled her deeper into the house, searching frantically for another way out.
“Come on,” he urged, keeping his voice low and urgent, dragging her toward the back of the house. Ada resisted, glancing over her shoulder toward the shattered remnants of her home. Thorn felt her reluctance, her desperation to stay, and he gritted his teeth, the situation pressing on him with deadly urgency.
“Ada,” he whispered harshly, his gaze darting between her and the trembling door as it buckled under the relentless attack. “We must go. Now!”
But she hesitated, her eyes filled with confusion and despair, her feet rooted to the spot. Thorn could see the conflict raging within her, the reluctance to abandon what little she had left—even if it meant risking everything.
He tightened his jaw, a sense of finality settling over him. He couldn’t let her hesitation doom them both. Whispering a few words under his breath, he traced a swift, glowing rune in the air near Ada’s forehead. The faint light of the charm flickered, and realization flashed in her eyes just as her body went limp, surrendering to the magic. Thorn caught her carefully, shifting her weight onto his back.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
With Ada safely subdued, his gaze darted around, still searching frantically for a way out as the sounds of splintering wood and guttural groans grew louder behind them.
In the dimness, he spotted the back door. Summoning every ounce of strength, he carried her swiftly toward it, fumbling with the latch while the creatures continued to claw at the front, their frenzied groans and splintering wood filling the air. He pushed the door open, slipping into the night just as the front door gave way.
But as Thorn emerged from the narrow alley, he froze, his blood turning to ice. Just ahead, a crowd of drowned figures loomed, their soaked forms swaying in the faint, unearthly light that filtered through the mist. His heart pounded as he took in the scene—their sunken, vacant eyes, lifeless yet fixated, skin tinged with the sickly pallor of decay. They stood eerily still, as if waiting for something, held in thrall by a dark presence at their center.
In their midst stood a figure, distinct in its grotesque transformation. It was humanoid, yet twisted beyond recognition—its flesh mottled, blackened, and scaly, glistening as though coated in a dark, viscous slime. From the creature’s head dangled a slim, bony appendage, tipped with a glowing orb that swung hypnotically in the air, casting an eerie, shifting light over the drowned throng.
Thorn’s stomach churned as the creature turned slowly, sensing his presence. The orb illuminated the shamanistic robes clinging to its warped frame, and realization struck him with brutal clarity.
Selis.
His face was a monstrous distortion, dominated by two bulging, unblinking eyes that gleamed with an empty, predatory focus. His mouth stretched wide, lined with rows of vicious, needle-like teeth that jutted outward, glistening in the dim light with a twisted semblance of calm. There was no hint of the man he had once been—only an overwhelming, consuming malice that radiated from his monstrous form. His gaze locked onto Thorn’s with a dark recognition, cold and unfeeling.
Slowly, with a chilling deliberation, Selis raised a clawed hand, pointing directly at him. The movement was smooth, inevitable, like the tide itself, sealing Thorn’s fate with a silent, dreadful command.
“Mggrauugk kuuckae”
The words seemed to carry weight, resonating in the air with a malevolent force. Thorn’s heart pounded as he grasped the full horror of their situation.
At Selis’s command, the drowned townsfolk stirred to life, their stiff, unnatural movements snapping into action. Their hollow, glassy eyes locked onto Thorn and Ada, compelled by the force of the dark spell.
The creatures began to move, a wave of decay lurching forward, their arms outstretched, grasping for Thorn and the unconscious Ada.
Thorn’s grip tightened on Ada, his body tensing as he braced himself for the deadly pursuit that was now inevitable.
Pushing himself to the limits, Thorn turned and ran through the maze of ruined buildings and debris-laden streets, Ada's weight slowing him but fuelling his determination. The undead pursued relentlessly, their numbers seeming to swell with each passing moment.
A sharp pain seared across his side as he failed to dodge a stray attack. He hissed, biting back the pain as he fended off the attacker with a swipe of Zephyr.
The edge of the town loomed ahead—a narrow gap between two collapsed structures, a fleeting sliver of hope leading to the dark, shrouded forest beyond. Thorn’s lungs burned with each ragged breath, his vision blurring, but the pull of escape drove him forward, every step a fierce act of defiance against the doom snapping at his heels.
Yet the path was anything but clear. From the shadows of twisted alleyways, more creatures staggered forward, their rotting bodies lurching to intercept him. Thorn swung Zephyr with grim precision, his blade carving through decaying limbs and slick, rancid flesh. But each strike drained him further, every slice slowing his pace as new figures took the place of the fallen. One creature lashed out, its brittle claws raking across his arm, tearing into his skin. Thorn twisted, angling himself to absorb the blow that might have hit Ada, whose weight hung heavy and still across his back.
Bloodied and battered, Thorn’s movements grew desperate, his strength waning as he shielded Ada from the frenzied assault. His heart thundered as more undead clawed from the surrounding ruins, blocking his path with outstretched arms and slack, vacant stares. He dodged left, then right, weaving through the swarming mass, yet the creatures seemed endless, closing in like relentless waves crashing against rock.
His limbs felt leaden, every step a struggle, but Thorn refused to yield. His eyes locked onto the dark outline of the forest just beyond the town, that final bastion of shadowed safety. With a deep, ragged breath, he summoned a last surge of strength, barreling through the undead, tearing free from their grasping claws even as their nails bit into his flesh and ripped at his cloak.
Behind him, Selis halted at the town boundary, his twisted form silhouetted by the unearthly glow of his angler lure. He raised a webbed hand, gesturing with deliberate malice. The undead stilled, a breathless moment of silence descending, before they surged forward again, their assault redoubled under Selis’s dark command.
Thorn staggered into the forest, branches clawing at him like skeletal fingers. He plunged deeper into the shadows, the crunch of leaves underfoot barely audible over the furious pounding of his heart. Behind him, the relentless moans of the undead faded into the distance, muffled by the dense undergrowth, but he dared not slow, fear and survival instinct compelling him onward. He pressed on, desperate to put as much distance as possible between them and the nightmare of Halrest.
Finally, the sounds of pursuit dwindled, swallowed by the eerie quiet of the woods. Thorn allowed himself a moment to glance back, his chest heaving, blood pounding in his ears. He could see the glow of Selis’s lure lingering at the town’s edge, watching him, a dark promise in that unwavering gaze.
Thorn stumbled, his legs trembling, his vision blurring as exhaustion clawed at him. But the gap was just ahead, a sliver of salvation in the dark. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself onward, each step a furious struggle against the grasping dead.
Only when he was deep within the shadowed embrace of the forest did he finally slow, the sounds of Halrest fading behind him. He leaned against a tree, catching his breath as silence enveloped him, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves. They had escaped, but the weight of what lay behind lingered, pressing upon him like a dark shadow.