“This is unbelievable.”

Arada looked from the paper to the giant village ahead of them, then back again.

Before them lay Ebrotown. A massive collection of houses, towers, and buildings. A huge statue stood on the quay, its hands raised as if welcoming all visitors.

Or maybe it’s asking the Gods for help, Irgos thought.

Below them flowed one of the branches of the Ebros River. Thanks to the massive bridge they were now walking on, the town was connected to the rest of the mainland—or what was left of it, at least.

“How many people must have lived here?” Arada wondered aloud.

Irgos shrugged. “More than the largest number I’ve ever counted. The Old World remains a strange place.” He touched the scar from the jelly monster on his upper lip. Speaking felt strangely different now.

“And to think Aquinox is even bigger.” She pointed to the left side of the paper.

“Stop it. My head’s already exploding just thinking about it.”

Arada gestured ahead of them, where the road narrowed significantly at the far end of the bridge. “Once we're there, we’ll need to find a route heading west. The paper says there’s a bridge crossing the Ebros there. From then on, it’s not much farther to Aquinox.” She pointed westward, where the massive river could be seen in the distance.

“We’d better find something to eat along the way. I don’t know how much longer I can keep going.”

Arada froze.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” Irgos asked, confused.

She placed a finger to her lips. “Shh. I hear something.”

It sounded like a low rumbling—a lot of low rumbles. Only then did he feel the ground beneath his feet vibrating with the sound.

“Hoofbeats!” they said at the same time.

They both turned around, looking back down the road they’d just come from. In the distance, a group of riders was visible, heading toward Ebrotown. They couldn’t immediately tell who was in the saddle. Arada looked through her super goggles, which were still hanging around her neck.

“What do you see?”, Irgos asked nervously.

Her voice took on a frigid tone.

“Bald heads. Eyes shut.” She looked at him, her panic palpable.

“It's them. Run. Now!”

They sprinted to the end of the bridge and entered Ebrotown. Only then did they see riders ahead of them on the road as well.

They were like rats in a trap.

“This way. Quick,” Arada panted. She veered left down a narrow alley that led into a block of buildings. Or rather, blocks with few buildings intact. The alley consisted of a long row of yellowed buildings with many doors and broken windows. The street was made of gray square tiles that stuck up slightly here and there. Many were covered with moss and weeds, just like in Tusin.

Fortunately, there were more narrow alleys threading through the buildings. They ducked into another one, no more than three meters wide, with eroded beige walls from the surrounding buildings on either side. The alley turned left, branching again into more hiding places.

They fled by instinct, moving as far as possible from the approaching horses. After a while, they ended up in a dead-end street with only a huge, green metal box on wheels. They hid behind it.

They waited until they could no longer hear the sound of hooves. Voices reached them from afar—dissatisfied voices. Irgos tried to make out what they were saying.

“...escaped...”

“He will...soon...many...”

“...waiting...to...”

Nothing made sense.

Then, they heard the sound of another horse approaching. This time, the sound was heading toward them.

Irgos huddled even closer to his sister, hoping they weren’t visible behind their green shelter. Now, all they could do was wait.

Gradually, the hoofbeats faded into the distance again. They stayed still, and after what felt like an eternity, Arada dared to peek under the metal box.

“Nothing in sight,” she whispered. “I think they’re gone. I haven’t heard anything else.”

Irgos wiped the sweat from his forehead. “M-me neither,” he said, his voice trembling.

They emerged from behind the box and headed back down the alley.

Arada motioned with her hand in a zigzag through the block of buildings in front of them. “Forget food. We’ll have to stay hidden and stick to the narrow streets in that direction.” She nodded forward. “Eventually, we should reach the bridge.”

Irgos looked pensively ahead. “But what if they’re on the bridge t—”

“That’s why we have to go now,” Arada interrupted him. “The sooner we’re there, the less likely they are to beat us to it.” Without waiting for his response, she checked around the corner of a street to their right to see if it was clear, then moved quickly but cautiously. Irgos followed her.

This street was a bit wider. It sloped downward, and just like the first street, was lined with tightly packed buildings.

“Wait,” he called after her. “We can’t just... we don’t know if...” He searched for words, trying to organize his thoughts. “Did you see h-him too? Through the super glasses?”

“Who?” Her pace slowed slightly.

“The Master. Their leader. The one in black.”

“No. They were all bald. Why?”

Irgos went pale as his mind raced.

Something’s not right. They likely came from Overmore. Without their leader. And at the same time, they were also coming from Ebrotown. It was almost as if—

Suddenly, he got it.

“It’s a trap!” he shouted.

Arada stopped in her tracks. “What?”

“We’re doing exactly what he—”

But it was too late. He cut himself off as four bald figures burst from a nearby building and threw themselves upon them. Irgos felt his arms pinned to the ground. He saw Arada beside him, struggling in their grasp.

“Let me go, you—”

One of them placed a hand over her mouth. “Don’t waste your energy on words. You’ll need it later,” said the bald man with a grin.

An inaudible murmur escaped her. Irgos decided to take the man’s advice.

He watched helplessly as his sister was also pinned to the ground. They removed her super goggles hanging from her neck, and her wrists were bound behind her back. The same happened to him.

Then, they were forced to stand and were taken along. Irgos felt two of the bald figures grab his arms, dragging him forward, while two others followed behind with Arada. They were led through a few unfamiliar streets, eventually arriving at the long road where they had first fled when they entered Ebrotown.

At the end of this street was a large square. The buildings here were more... ornate than the others. Unlike Tusin, there wasn’t a single four-wheeled vehicle on the square. At the edge stood a towering structure with a sharp-pointed roof. High upon the tower hung a round disk with two stripes on it. Many of the surrounding buildings looked destroyed. Broken windows and walls, covered in weeds. Just like everywhere else.

In the square, a group of people stood in a half-circle. They were dressed in tattered clothes, all bald, with their eyes closed. Irgos recognised the burly man and slim woman who were with the Master when he killed Cura. Also the stout woman who’d destroyed Arada’s cabin stood amongst them.

The group surrounded two figures in the center of the square. One of them sat bound and crouched on the cobblestones, shouting in a hoarse voice.

“I’ll never tell you where he is. NEVER!” It sounded like a young woman. She had long, brown hair that glinted in the sun, her face turned away from Arada and Irgos.

Beside the woman stood a tall, slender man with a disturbingly familiar vampire-like face. Irgos recognised him immediately.

The Master.

A few meters before the center of the square, their captors halted.

“Master, we caught them,” said the man at Irgos’s left side.

The Master and the bound woman turned in their direction. The woman looked stunned when she saw them.

“Welcome, welcome, if it isn’t our two fugitives,” his voice echoed over the square. “How convenient that I’ve hidden my men everywhere. It makes capturing you so much easier.”

Irgos swallowed. So the horse trick really was a trap.

The Master nodded to one of his followers in the circle. This person took a large hammer from his back and began striking the street. The noise was deafening.

Slowly, bald figures from all directions began shuffling toward the square. The group expanded until Arada and Irgos were enclosed by a line of old buildings behind them and a semi-circle of bald heads around them. Escape was no longer an option.

The Master made a sweeping gesture. “The signal for our welcoming committee,” he laughed cheerfully. “I’m not taking any chances after the last time you escaped. I’ll make sure we can proceed here undisturbed.” His words dripped with malice.

“Don’t listen to him,” shouted the bound woman beside him. “He’s manipulating you. Run, while you still can.”

Irgos felt the grip of his bald captors tighten at her words.

I would if you knew how, he thought, directing it to the woman.

Beside him, he heard Arada bite down on the hand still covering her mouth. Her captor pulled back, groaning in discomfort.

“Scumbag,” she yelled at the Master while struggling in vain against her captors. “How did you get here so quickly?”

The Master turned to her. “Some animals make for very efficient transport.” He gestured to a few of his men standing with horses. “At 40 miles per hour, we were here in no time. We traveled straight through the night after Overmore’s destruction.” He licked his lips. “That way, we could surprise you nicely here in Ebrotown.”

Arada, seething, ignored him. “Why did you destroy our home?”

The Master squinted. “Me? Without the help of my friends here, I never could have done it.” He gestured to the bald followers around him. “I’m truly sorry, my dear.” He traced a tear down his cheek with his finger. “Overmore was simply a matter I needed to settle. Just like the rest of this land, and all those damned remaining...” He sought for the right word. “...Heretics. It’s my duty to clean up the last remnants.”

He nodded to the captive beside him. “One moment,” he said to Arada. “Then we can catch up nicely.” He snickered inwardly, crouching beside the woman on the ground.

“For the last time: where is your friend hiding?” he pressed.

“I won’t tell you,” she said harshly.

“If you cooperate, his end will be less painful.”

The woman glared at him angrily.

“You’ve got fire,” he whispered in her ear. “How about joining us?”

A moment of silence passed. Then she spat in his face.

She’s got guts, Irgos thought, still unable to move a muscle.

“I’m afraid you have no choice,” said the Master as he wiped the spit from his face with his sleeve. He took out a long, familiar knife from his pocket.

No. Not again. Irgos felt like throwing up.

But instead of striking her, the Master ran the blade over the tip of his middle finger, drawing a thin line of blood. Then he pressed his finger to the bound woman’s forehead, hard enough that Irgos’s stomach turned as he saw the entire finger push through her skull.

“What?” he uttered softly.

For a few seconds, she convulsed non-stop. Her eyes rolled back, then her eyelids closed. Her long hair fell out, strand by strand, until her head was as smooth as a billiard ball. Then she went still on the ground.

“That went rather smoothly,” said the Master with satisfaction as he withdrew his finger from her head. “How about joining us now?”

The woman stood up with her eyes still closed. “I’d like nothing more, Master.” Her voice sounded much lower—stoic, hypnotized, and devoid of will.

The Master smirked. “Why don’t you free yourself from those ropes?” he encouraged her.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

With a single movement, she raised her arms with such force that the ropes around her waist snapped. Irgos’s mouth dropped.

Impossible.

He glanced to his side. Arada was also struggling to comprehend what she had just seen.

The Master now strode toward Arada and Irgos, like a grinning spider approaching his prey caught in the web. Meanwhile the woman walked away from the center and went to stand beside her new bald friends in the semi-circle.

Half a meter away, he stopped before them. Irgos could smell him from there—a scent that was strange and horrifying.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, baring his pearly white teeth in a grin. “Let’s get to know each other a little better, shall we? May I ask for your names?”

“None of your business!” Arada shouted.

“Nice to meet you, None Of Your Business.” He chuckled and turned to Irgos. “And you are?”

Irgos couldn’t find words in the wake of the scene on the square. “Oh dear,” mocked the Master, softly ruffling Irgos’s scruffy brown hair. “The boy can’t speak. Shall we teach him some manners?” he asked the henchmen holding Irgos.

Arada exploded. “Keep your filthy hands off him, bastard!”

The Master ignored her, holding his face close to Irgos. His eyes pierced straight through his skull, and his breath reeked of rot.

“Give me the elixir, Irgos.” His tone was forceful and direct.

Irgos froze.

What? How does he know—?

Irgos opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out.

“I-I,” he stammered. “W-w-what—”

“We don’t have any elixir,” Arada interrupted. “Never heard of it.”

Elixir? Does he mean... the vial Cura gave us?

The man turned to his sister. “I’m not stupid, Arada. I know how Cura was. He would never let his daughter go without the remedy he guarded for so long. Give it up.” He held out a hand, waiting for her response.

A chill ran down Irgos’s spine as he felt himself grow cold inside.

Remedy? Daughter? How does he know so much about us?

“Like I said, we don’t have anything,” Arada confirmed.

The Master snorted. “Lies,” he spat, and turned his head to some of his followers. “Search them.”

Immediately, two people approached them—one of whom was the woman who’d been bound on the ground just minutes earlier. She stood in front of Irgos, feeling along his clothes, while the other searched Arada. When they found nothing, they took Arada’s backpack.

We’re done for, thought Irgos. All our things for nothing.

The person turned the backpack inside out. All their belongings spilled onto the street—the paper that'd led them to Ebrotown, their water bottle, the transparent bag, the little box with wooden sticks, the black disk with the red arrow, and Cura's half-amulet.

But no sign of the vial.

Huh?

Sweat broke out on his forehead.

Did we lose it? That’s impossible. It’s been in there the whole time.

“No elixir,” reported the underling. “They were telling the truth, Master.”

“I don’t buy it,” the man said, contemplating. “Fine, if you won’t speak the truth, we’ll do this another way.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out his knife, and pressed the tip into his middle finger, making a drop of blood appear.

Despair washed over Irgos. No, not someone else. Not Arada.

“Any last words?” the Master asked, a cruel smile spreading across his face. He stepped in front of her, ready to strike. “Something personal for your so-called little brother, perhaps?” He burst out laughing.

So-called?

“DIE!” she screamed in his face.

The Master smiled. “So be it, Arada. Goodbye.” He pressed a finger to her forehead, and Arada immediately lifted her head and bit down hard on his finger. Her mouth clenched so tightly that Irgos heard bones crack as she twisted her head to the side.

The Master yanked his finger from her teeth. He looked stoically at the crooked stump dangling from his left hand, blood pouring from the teeth marks.

He seemed unfazed by her sudden act of defiance.Where a normal person would have screamed, he remained calm and composed.

Then he saw her confused look at his reaction, and that sinister smile returned.

“Pain is nothing more than an experience of the human mind,” he began. “It loses meaning once you know pain is merely nerve signals. Understand this, and you’ll be free.” He waved his hand up and down, the stump moving at unnatural angles.

Arada’s face turned ashen. Her rage vanished instantly, and Irgos felt his fear intensify as he watched what this man was capable of.

What kind of monster is this? Either he’s pretending, or he’s actually immune to pain.

Out of nowhere the man thrust the knife into Arada’s abdomen, pulling it out immediately.

“AAAAAAAHHH!”

Irgos had never heard Arada scream so loud. He was sure it would echo all the way to Overmore.

“But most people fear pain,” the Master continued between her cries. “They run from it, deny it, refuse it. They’re nothing more than dumb swine who strive happiness.” He sneered, laughing as Arada’s blood soaked her clothes. “It’s a DISEASE.” He spat the word. “The moment they experience discomfort, they lose all control. They think that tight feeling should vanish instantly. People are so attached to our world. They can’t handle setbacks. They can’t sit still and realize that pain is an illusion.”

Arada kept screaming. If she hadn’t been injured, she would have truly attacked him by now. He stroked her red hair—which appeared even fierier from her inner rage—and whispered in her ear, “Don’t worry, Arada. I’ll free you from this hell.” He raised a finger again, bringing it toward her head.

Just before he struck, they heard a dull thud beside them. There was coughing and choking.

Irgos turned his head. The woman who had searched him—the Master’s last victim—dropped to her knees. An arrow was lodged in her chest, and blood dripped from her mouth. Moments later, she collapsed to the ground, dead on the spot.

“What the—” the Master began.

Before he could finish, chaos erupted. Irgos heard something clatter to the ground, and suddenly, steam and smoke spread rapidly in all directions, making it impossible to see. A second later, a loud thud sounded beside him. He felt the grip on his left arm disappear, followed by his right captor collapsing and his ties loosening by some sharp object cutting through them.

I’m free?

He then heard two more thuds, followed by heavy impacts. He could just make out Arada’s shape through the mist. Her two attackers lay motionless beside her, and her hands were also freed from the ropes. He ran to her, noticing someone standing behind her in the smoke, but he couldn’t see who it was.

“You two, follow me,” a rough, unnatural voice commanded. Irgos saw the figure motion for them. “NOW!”

The mysterious figure disappeared into the mist. Irgos and the injured Arada ran after them.

“THAT’S HIM!” he heard the Master shout through the smoke. “Everyone, after them!”

They reached the front of a building with an open doorway and cracked windows. Here, the smoke was less dense. Inside, visibility was just good enough to catch a glimpse of their face—or whatever could be called a face.

Their eyes seemed to be opaque glass, and they had no nose or mouth, only a large black snout with a strange rounded tip. It looked a bit like a mask.

“Follow me,” they said again, their voice muffled through the mask. They ran through the building. There were wooden tables of various shapes everywhere, with mismatched chairs, many broken or tossed aside. But there was no time to take in their surroundings. Arada and Irgos followed them to the back of the building, where a closed door waited in the wall.

Behind them, footsteps pounded through the building. “Faster. FASTER!” The Master and his gang were right behind them.

The masked person opened the door. “Close it,” they said once everyone was through. Arada obeyed.

Irgos then watched as the masked figure effortlessly slid a large cabinet against the door. A second later, they heard pounding from the other side.

Just in time.

On the other side of the door was a series of stairs. The masked figure led the way, with Arada and Irgos following. Arada struggled to keep up, holding both hands against her abdomen to stem the bleeding.

By the sixth staircase, she grew nervous. “How much farther?”

She received an immediate answer. When they reached the top, there was no more staircase, only another door hanging off its hinges.

Moments later, they were on the building’s rooftop. The scorching sun was directly overhead, and a hot wind blew around them. The masked person turned to them.

“We’ll keep going across the rooftops,” came their muffled voice.“It’s the only way to escape.”

“W-what—” stammered Arada.

“Questions later, okay?”

She nodded obediently.

They followed Mask over the interconnected rooftops. Good thing these buildings are lined up like this, Irgos thought.

As if fate had heard him, their path ended at a rooftop edge. Ten meters below was a narrow alley. The buildings continued on the other side, but the gap was over two meters wide, though the roofs on the other side were lower.

“Jump,” said Mask. “We can make it.”

Irgos wanted to protest, but Mask had already made the leap and landed gracefully on the other side. Arada did the same, keeping her hands on her wound. Despite her wound, her legs still worked—miraculously enough.

“We h-have n-no choice, I-Irgos,” she encouraged him, stuttering when she saw his worried, height-fearing look. “We have to trust them.”

Irgos took a few steps back and then took a running start. With adrenaline pumping, he jumped across the gap, and Mask caught him on the other side.

They ran further across a new series of rooftops, occasionally needing to jump or take another route if the gap was too wide.

Mask stopped at a metal ladder on the edge of a building. “We’ve gone far enough,” came the voice from behind his mask. “We go down here.”

“Wait,” Irgos said. “She’s injured.”

Mask thought for a moment. “Let me handle it,” they said, gesturing for Arada to stand by the ladder. “Do you trust me?” they asked her. The strange voice behind the mask gave the question an eerie effect.

Arada nodded. They grabbed hold of her with their left hand and descended the ladder with their other hand, allowing her to press her hands against her wound. Rung by rung, they descended together, Arada moaning every other second.

Irgos followed after them. “Still no sign of them up there,” he said after one last look over the rooftops.

Mask grunted approvingly. “They won’t get that door open quickly.”

Once all three were on the ground, they let go of Arada and looked around as if orienting themselves.

“We’re almost there,” they panted from behind their mask. They followed Mask through a few narrow streets until they stopped at a large brown street tile. They pulled a small metal object from their pocket and crouched down. One by one, they unscrewed three of the four small pins from the corners, then rotated the tile aside. In the ground beneath it was another ladder. They motioned for Irgos to climb down first.

As he descended, his nose seemed to explode from the stench in the narrow tunnel. Irgos had never smelled anything like it. Once he was a few steps lower, Mask positioned themselves above him, gesturing for Arada to descend in the same position as before. Both of them were just slim enough to fit down the tunnel together. Finally, Mask looked around and shifted the tile back into place. Suddenly, it was pitch dark. Irgos heard a click, and a bright white light appeared above him.

“All the way to the bottom,” Mask said, while holding Arada one-handed. “I’ll follow after.” They illuminated the shaft below Irgos, giving him enough visibility to descend.

Once again, he lost all sense of time. After about five minutes, he reached the bottom, though it could just as easily have been five years.

He heard Mask and the injured Arada descending with much groaning. A moment later, they stood beside him. Irgos now saw that there was a small lamp on Mask’s mask, right above their eyes. But it wasn’t a candle or oil lamp like in Overmore. It seemed to need no fuel at all.

Thanks to the light, Irgos could take in their surroundings. They stood on a tiled ledge next to what seemed like an underground river of sorts. Filthy, since the water was muddy brown. The river was about ten meters wide, and the ceiling arched in a dome shape. But the stench was even worse than in the entry tunnel.

Irgos tried to compare the smell to something. As if a mixture of a thousand rotten eggs, sulfur, sheep dung, jellyfish slime, and multiply that by a hundred. And then you’re still not close.

A real Old World tunnel, he thought.

“We’re safe now,” came Mask’s rasping voice. “My hideout is nearby.”

They saw Arada wrinkle her nose in disgust. “I know, the stench is unbearable, but hang on.” They led them along the edge of the river.

“W-what kind of place is th-this?” Arada asked after a while, still pressing against her wound with all strength she had left.

“This was once a sewer,” said Mask. “Now I only use the tunnels to escape unnoticed.”

“Sewer?”

Mask looked back and realized they didn’t know Old World terms. “It was the drainage system for all the waste water from the houses above,” they explained. “Underground, there’s a network of these pipes, all connected. They led to a distant point. There, the water was once purified and could be reused.”

Arada was speechless—partly from the pain and partly from the vast underground structure.

“I c-can’t go any further,” Arada panted after a while, clearly at the end of her strength as she tried to cover her wound manually.

“Don’t give up. We’re here,” came the voice from behind their mask. To their left, they stopped at a slightly curved door and entered. Arada and Irgos followed them inside.

Mask pressed something on the wall, and that same strange white light as on his mask filled the room. They stood in a large gray chamber. Thick pillars in the middle supported the ceiling. At the back lay a wide mattress on the floor. To the right, there were various items: Old World machines that Irgos didn’t recognize, along with tables, cabinets, and other familiar household items.

Mask closed the door and secured it with a heavy bar. For a moment, the room was completely silent. Irgos finally had time to take a closer look at the mysterious figure.

Mask was dressed in an unusual outfit: patches of brown in the shape of leaves. The mask gave them an even eerier effect—almost like an alien being. It covered only their forehead, while the rest of their head was a tangled mess of brown curly hair. They also wore a backpack in the same color as their suit. A long stick was strapped diagonally across it, along with an unfamiliar wooden contraption and a quiver of slender rods.

Arada collapsed against the wall onto the floor like a ragdoll. “I d-don’t know... what just... happened... or who you are... or why you brought us... here,” she managed to say. “But I don’t know... how we can... thank you for sav—”

“You there,” Mask interrupted, nodding toward Irgos. With lightning speed, they pulled the wooden device from their backpack and took out a rod from the quiver. Only now did Irgos see what it was.

An arrow. Just like the one that had killed the woman in the square.

They laid the arrow on their device and pointed it at Irgos. “Back against the wall with your hands behind you,” they commanded. “One move, and you’re done.”