The night had pressed down like a suffocating shroud as Thorn trudged up the rugged hill, each step heavier than the last. But as he climbed higher, the dense canopy of the forest began to thin, giving way to an open crest. Just as he emerged at the top, a pale glow touched the eastern horizon, soft and tentative, the first hint of dawn breaking against the dark.
His breath came in ragged gasps, each inhalation searing his lungs. Blood seeped from multiple wounds—a deep gash across his side, claw marks raked along his arm, and countless smaller cuts where the creatures' nails had torn into his flesh. His cloak was shredded, hanging in tatters, and his boots were soaked through with mud and worse.
Ada lay slumped against his back, her slight weight feeling both fragile and immense. Her dark hair clung to his neck, damp with sweat. The sleeping charm he’d cast still held her in a merciful oblivion, sparing her from the horrors they’d escaped. Thorn adjusted his grip, ensuring she was secure, each movement sending a fresh wave of pain coursing through his body.
Finally reaching the crest, he stopped, the faint glow of dawn casting the sky in shades of purple and grey. He turned slowly, his gaze drawn back to Halrest despite every instinct urging him to look away. The town lay shrouded in mist below, yet with each passing moment, the growing light revealed more of the devastation they had left behind. In the distance, the village was still and quiet, yet menacing in its desolation—an end, yes, but not a victory.
For the first time since the nightmare had begun, Thorn felt the tight grip of fear ease, if only slightly. The light creeping over the horizon seemed to reach deep within him, casting away the shadows that had clung so heavily to his thoughts.
What have I just witnessed?
The question echoed in his mind, a hollow, disbelieving refrain that refused to let go. He felt as though his very soul had been scorched, the images of the night seared into his memory. They came in flashes—twisted abominations, once familiar faces turned to monstrous, shambling forms; the grotesque, inhuman transformation of Selis; the shambling avatar of nightmares that was Finnian. Thorn’s jaw clenched, his entire body taut with a visceral anger and despair. Each face he’d seen—their twisted, agonized expressions in their final moments—was burned into his mind, haunting him.
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I failed them. I failed them all.
The guilt hit him like a physical blow, an ache that seemed to radiate from his very core, pressing down on his chest. He had come to Halrest with purpose, hoping to lend his strength to a town in need, to be the one who might stave off ruin. Instead, he had become little more than a powerless witness, watching helplessly as a wave of corruption swallowed everything in its path.
His hands stung, streaked with the blood of those monsters he’d fought, each bruise and cut a bitter reminder of battles won that made no difference in the end.
But there was Ada.
As long as she lived, there was still something left of Halrest—some ember worth protecting.
He shifted his gaze to the horizon, refusing to let despair consume him entirely. I couldn't save them, but I can save her. The thought anchored him, a solitary light in the encroaching darkness. He looked over his shoulder at her peaceful face, innocence unmarred by the terror they'd fled. She deserves a chance—a chance to fight back, to survive what's coming.
This isn't over.
Thorn felt a surge of resolve harden within him. The pain of his wounds dulled as a new purpose took hold. He would not let Halrest's fate befall others. He would not allow the darkness to spread unchecked. But to fight it, he needed to be stronger—and so did Ada.
"We'll return," he murmured, the words a quiet vow carried away by the night breeze. "And next time, we'll be ready."
He adjusted Ada's weight once more and turned away from the haunting silhouette of the village. The path ahead was uncertain, shrouded in shadow and fraught with danger, but it was a path he was determined to walk. For Ada, for those lost, and for those still unaware of the looming threat.
As he descended the far side of the hill, the forest embraced them, its darkness a refuge rather than a menace. The whispers of the leaves seemed to echo his unspoken promises. He would teach Ada to defend herself, to harness any strength she possessed. He would prepare her for the battles to come.
Thorn's steps became steadier, his exhaustion tempered by grim determination. The journey would be long, and the road perilous, but they were alive. And as long as they drew breath, there was hope.
Behind them, Halrest remained a dark scar upon the land—a reminder of the reckoning that awaited. Thorn did not look back again. His focus was forward, toward a future he would shape with his own hands.
"Rest now, Ada," he whispered. "We'll face whatever comes next together."
The night stretched on, but the suffocating weight had lifted slightly. With each step away from Halrest, Thorn carried not just the burden of his failures but the spark of a new beginning.
The darkness had not won—not yet. And if he stood, it never would.