Rat took another step forward, and the world erupted.

A low snarl cut through the frozen air-followed by another, and another. His breath was cut short. The sound was wrong, not the natural growl of a wolf or a starving hound. It was deeper, more wet, something bubbling and snarling all at once. The clearing he had just stepped into wasn't empty anymore.

The snow shifted. The bodies that had been hidden beneath it-corpses from an old battle, forgotten in the woods-moved. No, not moved. They twitched. Their limbs jerked in unnatural ways, the ice cracking off their stiffened joints as they dragged themselves up from their frozen graves. The sound of bones scraping against ice sent a shiver down Rat's spine.

His heart pounded. No. No, no no. He'd seen plenty of dead men, but dead men didn't move.

Then one of them turned its head.

Its face was a ruin-flesh blackened from frostbite, lips peeled back over teeth that had gone yellow with age. Its eyes, sunken deep into a rotting skull, locked onto Rat. And then it screamed.

A high, wailing shriek tore through the air, and suddenly, all around him, the corpses came to life.

Rat stumbled back, instinct kicking in before thought. His boots slid against the frost, his body fighting for balance as hands—brittle, cracked, yet full of impossible strength—reached for him. One clawed at his coat, nearly yanking him down, but he twisted free. His fingers found the hilt of his knife, but what use was a blade against something that shouldn’t even be breathing?

Another one lunged. This one was faster, fresher. Rat ducked just in time, feeling the wind of its grasping hands miss his face by an inch. His instincts yelled at him to run, but something deeper, something older, whispered otherwise.

The necklace around his neck burned.

It was sudden, a searing heat against his skin, as if the obsidian itself had caught fire. Rat gasped, almost tearing it off, but before he could move, the shadows around him shifted.

And then she was there.

The knight.

Not the way he had last seen her—not the broken corpse on the battlefield, not the haunting vision by the fire. This was different. She was whole, yet ruined. Alive, yet undeniably dead. Her armor gleamed, but her face—gods, her face. Half of it was still gone, the wound fresh as if she had just been cut down moments ago. Exposed bone gleamed wet in the firelight of her own spectral form. Her remaining eye burned like an ember, filled with rage and sorrow.

Her voice was like ice cracking over deep water. “Run.”

Rat didn’t need to be told twice.

He turned and bolted, feet pounding against the snow. The trees blurred past him, the wind whipping at his face. Behind him, the dead shrieked in fury, their hunger chasing after him in the dark. But they weren’t the only things moving.

The shadows shifted.

Something was behind him. Something else.

Rat didn’t dare look back. He felt it—felt the weight of it pressing against his senses, something wrong.

It wasn’t just the dead. Something bigger, darker, hungered here. And it was watching him.

A root caught his boot. He tumbled forward, hitting the frozen ground hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. Pain exploded through his ribs, but he had no time to care.

Snow crunched behind him.

Rat rolled onto his back, knife raised, and came face to face with a nightmare.

Not a corpse. Not a man.

A thing.

It stood over him, tall and thin, its limbs too long, its body wrapped in something like tattered flesh. A hollow face, empty where eyes should be, leaned closer. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. The thing tilted its head, studying him, and then—

The knight stepped between them.

She moved fast—faster than anything that should exist. Her blade, ghostly and gleaming, cut through the air in a deadly arc. The thing jumped back, hissing, the sound piercing through Rat’s skull.

Then everything collapsed.

The trees bent inward, the sky darkened, the very air trembled. Rat felt like he was falling, though he hadn’t moved an inch.

And then—silence.

Rat gasped. He was on his knees, the forest around him still, quiet, undisturbed.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

The bodies were gone. The thing was gone.

Only the knight remained.

She stood before him, solid yet flickering like dying embers. Her hand was outstretched, the obsidian necklace in her palm. No—his palm. He had grabbed it without realizing.

Her voice, softer now, whispered, “Find my sister.”

Rat looked up at her, breathing hard, heart still hammering against his ribs. His hands were shaking.

And then she was gone.

Rat, pressing his fingers into the cold dirt to steady himself, took a deep breath.

He was alive.

But for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be.

Rat’s legs trembled as he rose to his feet, his breath still uneven. His ribs ached from the fall, his hands stung from the cold, but none of that mattered. He had survived. Again.

The wind moved through the trees, sweeping away any trace of the horrors he had just witnessed. The dead were gone. The thing that had stood over him, the twisted nightmare with empty eyes, had vanished as if it had never been there. The only proof that it had happened at all was the necklace burning against his chest, its obsidian stone still hot from whatever magic had awakened in it.

He ran a hand through his tangled hair, trying to force his mind back to reality. His head spun. He needed to keep moving. He had to find the knight’s sister.

So he pushed forward.

The Eastern Woods were silent except for the sound of his boots crunching over frozen leaves. The trees stretched high, their branches trying to grab the sky above. The deeper he went, the more uneasy he felt. The battlefields were dangerous, but at least there, he knew what to expect—corpses, looters, maybe the occasional wild dog. But here, in the quiet, there were too many unknowns.

Rat pulled his coat tighter around himself, flexing his fingers to keep them from going numb. He hadn’t eaten all day, but hunger wasn’t the worst of his worries.

He was starting to think this whole thing was a lost cause when a voice called out.

“Hey.”

Rat froze.

A girl stood at the edge of a clearing, watching him with sharp, curious eyes. She was his age, maybe a year younger, wrapped in layers of patched furs that made her look bulkier than she probably was. Her face was smudged with dirt, her dark hair tangled and wild. She held a small knife at her side—not raised, not threatening, just there.

Rat’s grip tightened around his own knife.

“You look lost,” the girl said, tilting her head. Her voice was light, almost amused, as if she had caught a stray dog wandering too far from home.

Rat exhaled slowly, steadying himself. “Maybe,” he admitted.

The girl took a step closer, her boots crunching in the frost. “What’re you looking for?”

He hesitated. This could be a trap. But if she was from around here, she might know something. And if she didn’t, well… he had gotten out of worse situations before.

“I’m looking for someone,” he said. “A woman.”

The girl raised an eyebrow. “A woman? Out here? You got strange tastes, rat-boy.”

Rat’s shoulders stiffened at the nickname. Did she know him? Or was that just a coincidence? He ignored it. “She’s a knight,” he said instead. “Or was. Her sister lives somewhere near here.”

Something flickered across the girl’s face. A split-second reaction—recognition, surprise, something.

Rat caught it.

“You know her,” he said, stepping forward. “Don’t you?”

The girl didn’t answer right away. She chewed the inside of her cheek, studying him as if weighing her options. Then she grinned, slow and sly.

“Maybe,” she said. “Maybe I do.”

Rat’s pulse quickened. Finally. After days of searching, chasing ghosts, wandering through towns that had long forgotten their dead—finally, a lead.

“Take me to her,” he said.

The girl’s smile widened. “Alright,” she said. “Follow me.”

Rat hesitated. Something about the way she said it made his stomach twist. But what choice did he have? If she really knew the knight’s sister, he couldn’t let this chance slip away.

He nodded.

The girl turned, moving swiftly through the trees. Rat followed.

The deeper they went, the darker it became. The trees thickened, their gnarled trunks twisting together, blocking out what little light remained. Rat kept his eyes on the girl’s back, watching the way she moved. She was fast, sure-footed, like someone who had spent her whole life in these woods.

Rat’s unease grew.

“How far is it?” he asked.

The girl glanced over her shoulder, smiling again. “Not far.”

They walked in silence for another few minutes. Then—

Darkness.

Rat barely had time to register what was happening before his head exploded with pain. A dull, heavy impact—something striking the back of his skull. Stars burst behind his eyes. His legs buckled. The world tilted, spun—then everything went black.

When Rat woke, his head throbbed like someone had driven a nail into his skull. His mouth was dry. His limbs were stiff. His fingers twitched, brushing against something rough beneath him.

Dirt.

He was lying on dirt. Cold, damp, packed earth.

His vision swam as he forced his eyes open. The first thing he saw was fire. A small, flickering flame in the center of a wide, underground space. Shadows danced along the walls, long and twisted. The air was thick with the smell of smoke, sweat… and something else. Something rancid.

He tried to move. His wrists didn’t budge. Ropes. Tight, coarse, cutting into his skin.

Panic crawled up his throat.

Then he heard them.

Voices. Low murmurs, giggles, whispers just at the edge of hearing. Shapes shifted around the fire—people.

No.

Not people.

Children.

They were all his age. Maybe a few years younger, some a little older. Boys and girls, all wrapped in furs and rags, their faces smudged with dirt and ash. They sat in small clusters, sharpening knives, picking at their nails with rusted daggers. Some chewed on bones. Others watched him.

Rat’s stomach twisted.

“Look who’s awake,” a voice said.

He turned his head—sharp pain shot through his skull. The girl from before was crouched beside him, grinning.

“Told you he’d be useful,” she said.

Rat’s throat was dry. “What… the hell is this?”

The girl tilted her head. “Home,” she said simply.

Rat’s eyes flickered around the space. There were tunnels, passages leading off into darkness. An old ruin, maybe, or some hidden den carved beneath the woods. He spotted bones piled in the corner. Some were animal. Some were not.

His stomach churned.

The girl leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear. “You’re in a bad place, rat-boy,” she whispered.

Rat swallowed. His fingers curled into fists. He tested the ropes again—too tight.

She saw it. She laughed. “Don’t bother. You’re not getting out of here. Not yet, anyway.”

Rat forced himself to stay calm. “Why bring me here?” he asked.

The girl rocked back on her heels. “Because you’re interesting,” she said. “And because food’s been scarce lately.”

Rat’s blood turned to ice.

One of the other children—a scrawny boy with hollow cheeks—licked his lips. “He looks like he’s got meat on him,” he said.

A girl beside him giggled. “Not for long.”

Rat’s pulse pounded. His heart slammed against his ribs.

He wasn’t just captured.

He was dinner.