SAVE POINT 9

Recalibrating Tension...99.5%...99.9%

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Rosabella

Darken?

I balk for a minute at Callen's warning and the tension in his voice.

Rainer doesn't; he moves.

Like a lion in battle.

The man swiftly grabs up everything laying on the ground near the stream, stows it away, sheaths his dagger back in his belt and loads the bow over his arm with a single movement, "Rosabella, get behind me."

I don't argue.

If something out there wants to eat me, I'd definitely prefer it has to get through tough-guy Rainer first...

"Come on!" Callen shoos us forward, "The other two are already at high ground."

—Darken?

—High ground?

What are we running from?

I don't have time to ask as both men take off through the forest at high-speed.

I tramp after them through the dense underbrush, feeling like a bull in a China shop—loud and jarring in the silent woods.

Heavy...like an elephant with large footfalls, crushing the shoots of greenery underfoot as I follow.

Their pace is breakneck. Even with the benefit of my level-up and the health pack, I'm feeling it. I huff after them, my eyes scanning the watching trees that stretch over our heads like vigilant guards in formation lines.

...Except there's no one to save us here.

Not in a place that has dragons.

...No one to act as shelter from this harsh world, except Rainer and Callen...

—Who I might lose complete sight of if I don't move faster! I scramble forwards, heaving through the moss and underbrush. Ferns tickle my hands. Branches snag across my face and neck. How much longer do we have to hike uphill? Sweat prickles at my collar and the muscles of my legs complain.

We aren't alone.

I feel a stare.

My eyes scan the surrounding forest as my heart nearly jumps ship from its place in my chest. But the woods around me are still.

All shadows.

No movement.

Almost...eerie.

Surely there should be at least a breeze or something...?

"Keep up, Rosabella!" Rainer calls over his shoulder from somewhere sounding far ahead.

And I launch myself into the brush again, after them—feeling uneasiness bristle on my arms and legs.

Overhead.

I finally find the source of the lingering stares.

Overhead, vultures swirl in dizzying circles, craning their necks to look down at us.

Watching, like the trees.

...But they look just as sickly as the one I saw earlier.

I'm so busy craning my neck upward at the sky, to watch the creatures, that I nearly bump into Rainer who's clearly stopped his race through the forest. I quickly straighten myself, pretending I wasn't being a total doof, but how close I end up standing to the guy is probably a dead giveaway of my fumble. We've reached the summit of a hill—as densely forested as the rest of the place, but the view stretches out from our toes.

Forest.

As far as the eye can see.

It's...breathtaking.

...Or, maybe, my breath is already taken, so that's easily achieved.

"Rainer," I tap the big guy on the arm, hoping to grab his attention, "Those birds..." I point overhead. "There's...something wrong with them..."

"I'll say—" he huffs. "Verminous, loathing, bottom feeders!" he rages, shaking a fist at the sky.

"They're decaying"—Dormouse steps forward from behind Callen; I hadn't seen him there—"They eat the fallen Darken, and it changes them too—"

"Darken?" I turn the name over in my mouth, "What do you mean?"

The boy opens his mouth to respond, but Joy cuts him off, interrupting—her eyes squinted into a not-having-it grimace and her hand flipping up to wave him off—"Isn't it time we got a move on towards the second dragon? It'll be nightfall soon."

I watch Callen and the others process her request. Eventually, Callen nods shortly, "Good point. We'll move now and camp later—"

"What about whatever is out in the forest?" I protest.

Honestly, I'd just like a rest. I'd killed their dragon. I'd gotten the magic. What did a girl have to do to get a nap around here? These guys were always on edge.

"We'll hike for a few hours till dark. Then, we'll camp. Don't worry; we'll keep you protected. Rainer is a class-act archer and swordsman, and Joy's stare can make an enemy turn around without even a weapon." Callen meant the last part as a joke; his lips turn up in amusement at his own words, but the pink-haired girl doesn't seem to find it funny.

"Cute," she sneers, turning away to lead the group down the slope and further into this misery called a forest.

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As we leave, I try to catch up with Dormouse, jogging and reaching him nearly out of breath. I grab the end of his sleeve to tell him to wait up.

His eyes are wide and unsure with dark hair flopping into them as he turns. "You okay?" he asks.

"What are the Darken?" I whisper, making sure to keep my voice low enough so the others don't hear.

He swallows nervously, casting a quick glance at the rest of the group. "The short answer?" he whispers back.

I nod, hoping he'll keep this hush-hush—just between the two of us.

He ducks his head further, "Zombies."

The air goes out of my lungs. We are in a video game. ...If there's one thing I know, it's my survival horror video games... "Walking Dead type shit or Resident Evil?" I ask rapidly.

He stares at me blankly.

"...oh," I trail off, my voice getting serious and my eyes dilating, "...So, you're talking The Evil Within type..."

"What?" he sputters, "I have no idea what you're talking about—"

"Zombies," I fire back, hissing under my breath, "Are they the stupid, slow ones or the fast, smart ones?"

His lips purse and he shakes his head. "Fast and smart," he says grimly, "...unfortunately. This is all because of a delusional imposter who took over after the Game Makers died. As a Game Warden, it's my duty to make sure The Game stays intact. The thing is, only a Game Maker can wield Creator magic. The rest of us don't even have it in our skill inventory. It's just a blank spot at the end, see?"

He pulls up his skill inventory box with a swipe of his hand.

GAME WARDEN DORMOUSE Strength - 20/100 Endurance - 30/100 Agility - 80/100 Intelligence - 98/100 Emotional Intelligence - 95/100 Empathy - 65/100 Determination - 20/100 Prophesy - 10/100

"Trying to create without creator skill is essentially a curse—black magic," he continues, "And it warped our entire world, twisted it, decimated the city with earthquakes... It created almost a comet hole in the middle of the forest, and blackness began to spread out of it. It's been getting worse and worse, now infecting people with the darkness. We used to call them 'the darkened' since they were touched with black magic, but it got shortened after a few years. Now, it's just 'Darken'."

"That's terrible," I mutter, watching my feet trail over the rocky path, dirt and grass. The rocks pinch through the soles of my boots.

Someone had unleashed darkness on this world? They'd ruined it? That's why the Game Wardens were so bent on me fixing it? ...So...desperate?

"I don't get it..." I follow up, after a minute of chewing on the inside of my lip, "Why now? I mean, why, after all this time, try and fix it?"

Dormouse looks down. The dark-haired boy shakes his head, "We've been searching for you and your Dad for a while now. The instant we found you, there was an intel leak from our locators, and they took your Dad into custody. We just want you so we can fix this. It's getting bad. People, randomly, all over are starting to rot...like something in the very fabric of The Game has gone corrupt. Joy is—"

"You guys wouldn't be talking about me, would you?" the pink-haired girl sidles up beside us, harshly chewing on a piece of gum.

Her eyes darken, probably as she recognizes the alarm on both of our faces.

"Callen, this little shit is spilling all our secrets to the Game Maker," she complains loudly to the silver-haired man in front.

He looks back, arches an uninterested eyebrow and waves her off. "You're the one with the impenetrable outer shell," he quips, "The rest of us have nothing to hide."

...But, by Rainer's dark stare, I fathom that isn't entirely true...

We walk in silence for a while as the sun slips under the horizon and the sky becomes so charcoal-colored that I can barely see my feet beneath me anymore. I'm grateful when Callen calls for a 'halt', and we shuffle to a stop. Rainer builds us a huge fire, and we gather around it, sharing hard-as-rock slivers of dried meat Callen fishes from his knapsack and watching the glow of the flames flicker on each other's faces.

Soon enough, I'm curled up in a blanket Joy reluctantly shares with me.

The warmth of her body behind me helps in the chilling night air, but she faces the opposite side and has pulled herself inches away, like it'd be a sin to even be associated with me.

I wonder if she's laying there, still and blinking into the night too.

Both of us.

Experiencing the same thing, just looking separate ways. I swallow, trying to get up the courage to say something to her, but I figure she'll just cut me off, anyway, or say something rude.

And I don't want to hear it right now.

I let my mind drift into the netherworld.

And, as my eyelids sink, the shadows of my dreams flare.

Like secrets I'd rather remain hidden.

***

> "Rosie?"

> Dad's voice.

> The pet name he always calls me.

> "Dad?"

> I blink into a long, dark hallway. The walls look to be made of gray stone with bars on either side. The floor is smooth concrete and freezing on my bare feet. ...Where are my shoes?

> "Dad, are you there?!" I shout.

> I'm surprised by the desperation in my voice and the tearing, welling feeling splitting my chest. God, I long to see him. If I could just hear his voice again—just once—

> "Rosie, over here!"

> I run towards his voice.

> Frantic. Why is my heart hammering so loudly in my ears?

> Down the hall.

> My breath snags in my throat as the hall widens to a room where he stands, his sweatshirt pulled over his head like he usually wears it, facing a corner.

> ...Away from me.

> "Dad?"

> Why am I suddenly scared?

> ...Why isn't he turning around?

> He doesn't answer.

> My feet patter towards him on the hard floor. I'm nearly at his shoulder now. I can barely breathe—

> I reach a hand out towards his shoulder—

> He spins—

> Grabs my hand and—

> His face is distorted.

> Eaten alive from the inside out.

> Red, welting flesh where his eyes should be.

> Bone showing on his jaw.

> He's been infected! He's one of the Darken Dormouse was talking about!

> I scream.

> I trip backwards, trying to tug my hand free—to get loose! "Get off!" I shout, shoving him away from me.

> But he won't let go! He won't—

> "Rosie!" his voice echoes in my head as the image distorts, twisting and flashing like I'm moving backwards down a long hall.

> "Rosabella!"

> Another voice, slightly deeper, over his.

> Meshing.

> Bleeding together.

> "Rosie—"

> "Rosabella!"

> Like the voices are fighting, filling my head—

> Too loud—

> Cold fingers still wrap around my wrist—

> ...Fingers I can't get off—

I thrash, jolting awake, and find myself kicking off the wool blanket.

But a face snarls into mine.

And it's half-dead.

Bulging eyes.

Bulbus growth entwining up a pale face that used to be a man's and into its thin hair that only half covers a balding head.

I scream with everything in me.