Chapter Eighteen:

"The Ones Who Remain"

The stench hit first.

Not the slow, creeping scent of decay, but something violent.

Thick, rancid, alive.

Lucinda choked down bile, swallowing hard as the taste of something rotted and wrong coated her tongue.

Then came the sound.

A wet, sucking noise, the grotesque shudder of flesh collapsing inward. The bodies convulsed in unison, the disease claiming the life it so desired.

The moment her final choice was made, the rest were lost.

The dying let out a final, collective exhale, not breath, but surrender.

And then, the screams.

Inhuman, guttural, a symphony of agony crashing over Lucinda, drowning her in a sea of suffering.

The weight of it pressed into her skull, threading through her bones, an unrelenting chorus of horror.

Flesh blackened, veins bursting beneath the skin, spilling something dark and steaming into the already putrid air. Bones cracked under unseen pressure, brittle and sharp against the carnage.

The mist swallowed the last of their wretched cries, dragging them into its depths.

Luci couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

It wasn’t fear that held her still, it was something deeper. The weight of the deaths dug into her, splintering through something she hadn’t even known could break.

Evelyn’s grip on her wrist was the only thing that tethered her to the moment. A vice. Bruising. Unforgiving.

Luci tried to pull away, but Evelyn’s hold tightened. She wasn’t letting go.

“Don’t you dare,” Evelyn’s voice was raw, sharp, her breath ghosting across Lucinda’s skin as she wrenched her face toward her. “Don’t you dare look away!”

Luci wanted to. She really wanted to.

She didn’t.

Gameweaver inhaled from everywhere, slow, indulgent. The sound was sickeningly pleased, like she was savoring a masterpiece, every scream a brushstroke in her grand design.

"Ahh," she exhaled, pleased. "Choice is a fascinating thing, isn’t it? Such power, such consequence. And yet, does it ever truly belong to you?"

She paused, letting the devastation settle.

"I always did love a good tragedy, you know."

The air still screamed, not in sound, but in memory.

The echoes rattled in the back of Lucinda’s skull, carving themselves into the hollow spaces of her mind. She could still hear them, pleading, begging, breaking.

Evelyn pushed herself upright with a grunt, swaying before pressing a hand against her stomach to steady herself. Her breathing was shallow, her skin ashen but alive.

She let the silence stretch, waiting for Lucinda to speak first. When no words came, she exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "The second you picked us, you knew what was going to happen to the others, didn’t you?"

Lucinda’s hands tensed, the urge to defend herself battling against the weight of the accusation. The exhaustion sank into her, heavier now, not just from magic, but from the reality of it all. "I—"

She didn’t know what she was going to say. Didn’t know if there was anything she could say.

Evelyn’s expression shifted, amusement stripped away, leaving only something raw and unspoken. "You knew." Her voice was softer this time, but no less sharp. "You knew the second you chose. And you did it anyway."

Lucinda’s throat tightened. "What was I supposed to do? Let you die? Let all of you... suffer?"

"I don’t know, Lucinda!" Evelyn snapped, her voice cracking. "I don’t know what you were supposed to do! But you knew. You knew we were the ones who’d live, and you knew what that meant for the rest of them. And you knew what that would mean for us."

Luci swallowed, her nails biting into her palms. The truth was a jagged thing, impossible to hold without bleeding.

Evelyn scoffed, but the sound was hollow. She looked away, dragging a hand down her face before looking back at Lucinda, something tired and cold settling into her features. "Just tell me one thing. When you did it, when you picked," she gestured vaguely to herself, to Ankit, to Lily, "was it easy?"

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Lucinda’s breath stalled, guilt crashing into her.

"No," she whispered. "It wasn’t."

Evelyn studied her for a long moment, then let out a slow exhale. Whatever she had been searching for in Lucinda’s face, she must have found it.

She nodded once. Short. Final. "Good."

Ankit flinched at the word. He didn’t look at them, just stared at the aftermath of the reaping, his breathing even, controlled. “We all face impossible choices in our lives. We can’t judge those who make them.”

Before Evelyn could respond, Lily spoke.

“I need to find my brother.”

They all turned as one.

The girl stood, untouched by the blood and ruin, unnervingly still, as if she were an illusion barely tethered to this world.

The dim light didn’t fully touch her, casting no distinct shadow. Her bare feet pressed into the damp moss beneath her.

Pristine.

Eerie.

She met Lucinda’s eyes. And for the first time, something shifted beneath the surface of her unsettling calm.

“I need to find my brother,” Lily repeated, voice soft, steady.

No one knew what to say.

Gameweaver spoke up, indulgent, savoring the moment like the last notes of a dying melody.

"Oh, what a lovely little mess you’ve made, Lucinda. I do hope you survive long enough to see how it all unravels."

"Yeah, well. Hope’s a funny thing, isn’t it?" Evelyn countered.

"Funny indeed, my seductive one."

Luci didn’t respond.

She had saved them.

And somehow, she had never felt so damned.

Lucinda swallowed past the raw scrape in her throat. "We can’t stay here."

She forced her eyes forward. She didn’t need to look to know the bodies were still there, the ones she hadn’t saved. The absence of their voices was louder than the screams had been.

No one spoke. The silence stretched between them, clinging like damp cloth.

And Lily.

Lily was watching.

Not the bodies. Not the carnage. Not the disease that had ravaged the earth.

Her storm-grey eyes stayed locked on Lucinda, an intensity too steady, too knowing, something ancient peering through a human mask.

Unmoving.

Unblinking.

Like she had always been waiting.

Lucinda swallowed past the raw scrape in her throat. "We can’t stay here."

Evelyn’s laugh cut through the heavy stillness, sharp and brittle. "Oh? Figured that out all on your own?" The words dripped with venom, honed to wound.

Lucinda bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to taste blood. The sting grounded her, giving her something tangible to cling to. She understood Evelyn’s anger. Hell, she felt it too, an echo of her own helpless rage at being forced to play god.

But anger was a luxury they couldn’t afford.

"We need to move," she repeated, forcing steel into her voice, though exhaustion clawed at the edges of her control. "Before."

"Before what?" Evelyn snapped, stepping closer, shoulders squared, voice crackling with barely restrained fury. "Before more of them die? Oh wait, they already did." Each word was a blade, sharp and deliberate.

Lucinda’s fingers twitched at her sides. "Before this place decides to take us too."

“I need to find my brother,” Lily repeated.

A long, stretched silence. Then.

Ankit exhaled, slow, measured, dragging a hand through his hair, the motion heavy with something deeper than regret. "Fine. I’m game. But if this goes south, I’m not dying for some guy we don’t even know is real."

Evelyn scoffed, a dry, humorless sound. "Oh, come on. If the creepy kid says she has to find her brother, obviously he’s here." The sarcasm barely masked something sharper, something more than just the guilt of living when so many others perished.

Lily said nothing. Didn’t react. Didn’t need to.

She simply watched, gaze steady, waiting. Like something that had long since forgotten how to be human.

They turned toward the expanse of Avalis stretching before them, a landscape smeared in hues of decay and dread. The air stank of blood and rot, but beneath it was something worse, something ancient, patient, watching. Her.

Lucinda exhaled sharply, the sound scraping raw against her throat. "We need a plan."

A harsh breath hissed through Evelyn's teeth, her words sharp as broken bones. "Oh, now we need a plan? How refreshing."

Lucinda forced back her frustration. Every second spent arguing was another moment wasted. "We can't keep moving blindly. We need shelter. Weapons. Food."

A voice slid into the conversation, smooth and indulgent. "Oh, I am so sorry for interrupting again, truly. But how could I not?" The voice dripped with amusement, each syllable polished to a cruel shine.

Lucinda’s stomach clenched as reality itself seemed to waver. And the air around them shimmered in brilliant colors.

"Anyway, I thought I should help." The words purred, decadent and amused. "Can’t have my little Players running around unarmed, can we? Let me assist you with that."

With a mere thought, weapons twisted into form as if conjured from nothing.

Ankit caught his first, a pair of twin daggers, sleek and wicked, their dark steel glinting like secrets never meant to be spoken. "Thief through and through," Gameweaver mused. "Let’s not pretend otherwise."

Lucinda reached for hers, fingers closing around the smooth wood of a staff, elegant yet powerful.

Faintly glowing scripts traced their way along its length, symbols of purity, untouched and unwavering even in this corrupted world. It felt familiar, as if it had always been hers.

Evelyn’s chain whip appeared with a metallic rasp, silver and sinuous. She tested its weight, the chain snapping taut with practiced ease. "Yes, I thought that suited you. A little different from the whips you're used to, I must say though."

"Why don't you show yourself and I'll show you how much this suits me."

"Now, my young temptress, don’t tempt me. I wouldn’t want you to exert yourself on useless endeavors. Even if they would be a lot of fun!"

Lily stood still, distant, as if she already knew what would happen, as if she knew she didn't need one.

"Now, now, don’t fret about that little one. She doesn’t need a weapon. I’m far more curious to see what my little healer thinks of her young friends'... unique abilities."

Gameweaver chuckled, pleased.

Evelyn scoffed, gripping the chain whip tightly. "How about some shelter? Or food? Maybe the trees can drop a survival kit in our laps? Where do we even start?"

"Head to the cities, of course!"

"Cities?" Ankit asked, now interested.

"Oh, come now. Where else? That’s where the real fun begins."

“Now, before you go fumbling around in the dark, why don’t I teach you how to use your menus properly? Just think about it. The system is designed to guide you."

Ankit blinked.

Then, with a mere thought, the transparent menu shimmered into view before only his eyes, the map glowing with a waypoint.

A red mark, a direction, an answer already waiting. The compass, ever, present in the bottom of their vision, aligned itself with the marked path, an unspoken directive guiding their way. This wasn’t intuition, it was guidance, raw and programmed into their very reality.

Lucinda tightened her grip on her staff, grounding herself in the chaos. A faint warmth pulsed beneath her fingers, steady and reassuring, as if the staff recognized her just as much as she recognized it.

They weren’t just lost anymore.

They had weapons, tools of survival tailored to who they were.

Gameweaver’s influence twisted through the air like an unseen smirk, a silent reminder that she wasn’t done toying with them just yet.