In the darkness, where the first hint of dawn was just about to bloom, a strange ground-like clearing revealed itself under the dim glow of ten flares placed at the corners. Their flames flickered violently, casting uneven light across the land. As the light spread outward, it clashed against the surrounding darkness, as if shadow and flame were fighting for dominance.
Within that trembling boundary, the shadows seemed to take shape. They stretched… twisted… and slowly formed into haggard faces. Each face bore different markings which etched across their foreheads, carved into their skin, stitched into their garments like symbols of forgotten rituals.
A total of one hundred and eight figures stood there. They were arranged in perfect circles, layered one within another, leaving measured gaps between each ring. Their hands were raised, pointing toward the center. Their blue eyes were wide open, fixed on the sky. None moved; not a head turned, not a whisper escaped, not a shred of resistance remained.
Behind them, only one sound which was still breaking the stillness.
Thud… thud… thud…
The sound of boots striking the ground in perfect, mechanical rhythm. From the darkness beyond, soldiers emerged.
They carried bundles of wood in their arms, walking forward with stiff unnatural movements. Their faces were empty, drained of all emotion, their eyes pale, almost white, devoid of will. If anyone looked closely, it felt as though they too were being controlled.
They walked silently into the center, placing the wood down piece by piece.
And there, At the heart of the formation, Seven human heads lay arranged on the ground.
Their mouths were slightly open and from them a low, continuous humming sound was being escaped. Whether they were alive or dead remained unknown.
It spread through the air like an unseen thread, weaving through the circles of figures. It felt as though that very sound was controlling everything near it.
What was more astonishing or better to say more unnatural that the sun had started to rise and yet, the sky remained filled with stars and above them, the moon still hung high, unmoving, as if time itself had been split apart.
From it, a pale beam of light always falling on directly upon the center onto the seven heads.
The soldiers moved forward to place the remaining wood nearby those heads and went away but those wanted to pass through it as their hand touched it, their flesh dissolved instantly into thick pools of blood, flowing down from their arms, dripping, pouring, soaking into the wood below. The smell of iron spread through the air as the wood drank it in greedily, turning darker, heavier…
Even more disturbing that tongues began to crawl out from those gaps of the woods.
Long, slick, snake-like tongues slipped from the severed mouths, stretching unnaturally as they reached toward the flowing blood. They licked, sucked, and drank greedily, as if feeding on life itself and with every drop they consumed, their flesh twitched, revitalizing, swelling with unnatural vigor.
Their eyes rolled violently sometimes upward, sometimes sideways or sometimes spinning within their sockets. Yet through it all, they continued to hum in low, rhythmic, almost cheerful. The more they fed, the more intense that humming became, as if they were rejoicing.
The soldiers, after going away from the pyre, began to feel something strange, their consciousness flickered and for brief moments, clarity returned and also vanished again but pain followed.
They looked down and saw their hands, their arms were cut open, blood pouring freely from wounds but they did not remember of receiving it
For a split second, fear rose but disappeared quickly also. Their expressions went blank again and they resumed walking like before.
(It was only due to that sudden pain that a brief surge of awareness appeared, but for others, nothing changed. The control remained absolute.)
At last, when everything was nearly complete, the seven heads were covered by the pyre formed from the stacked wood. But during the process three soldiers fell on the woods as they were being called and the moment they went beyond the boundary of moonlight their bodies began to break apart.
Their entire bodies were offered to the pyre, piece by piece, as if inaugurating the ritual and yet nothing fell to the ground. In the dim, flickering light, those snake-like tongues extended again, catching every fragment, every drop, dragging it back into those waiting mouths.
Silence followed after it until same a voice emerged from the heads.
"...Halt."
All movement stopped instantly. "...Come here…"
Twenty… thirty soldiers stepped forward, each carrying a log in their hands. They passed through the rows of unmoving figures. Then came the next command—
"Jump… into the wood."
With out any hesitation or question they obeyed. One by one, they crossed the veil of moonlight and their their bodies started to dissolve. Flesh turned into bloody pulp mid-step, their forms breaking apart before they could even react. They merged directly into the pyre, absorbed as if they had never existed.
The moonlight expanded slowly and widening its radius. Until it completely enveloped the wooden pyre and the seven heads beneath. Neither a single scream nor a single cry escaped from them. They died without even understanding their death had come.
At the very end, a thin glimmer of blood rose upward, threading through the moonlight, drifting toward the sky like an offering.
It was fortunate that no one else was present because if even a single witness had stood there their mind would have shattered instantly.
But even that was not the end. From within the suffocating silence another sound emerged…
a low, dragging sound echoed through the space.
"—hut… hut… we came back with all…"
The voices grew louder, careless, unaware.
Suddenly within the flickering flare light, six gates creaked open at once.
From them, soldiers poured in, laughing, shouting, dragging slaves (free men) behind them. Some pulled them by chains, others kicked them forward like animals. The noise of their arrival clashed violently against the unnatural silence of the ritual ground.
But the moment they stepped fully inside they froze, laughter faltered as their eyes fell upon the figures.
The stillness of the suffocating atmosphere felt wrong.
Some soldiers, confused and irritated, walked forward toward the unmoving figures, reaching out to grab them but suddenly a voice erupted from the center of the arranged pyre.
"Don't touch them with your filthy hands. Go away… or die."
The words seemed to press directly into their skulls. A few soldiers immediately stepped back in fear. Others laughed it off.
And some, driven by arrogance or curiosity, stepped forward anyway. They pushed past the standing figures, mocking, jeering. A few even threw wine bottles toward the formation, the glass shattering against woods.
As they crossed the boundary of light in that instant tongues burst out from the woods like serpents. They pierced through the soldiers' bodies before any reaction could form without any screams or resistance. Their bodies exploded into a fine, bloody mist, shattered into nothingness in a heartbeat.
The tongues coiled and snapped back, rolling like springs, devouring everything. The delayed screams of those who witnessed it rose but died as if they had never existed. Silence swallowed them again.
Some soldiers and even slaves blinked in confusion, unable to process what they had just seen.
But others, who had grasped of the situation, suddenly collapsed into fear. Panic turned into madness as they rushed toward the gates, slamming against them, pounding desperately.
"Open! Open it!"
But the gates did not move not even an inch. They struck again and again, their fists bleeding, their voices cracking but nothing was changed. The figures still stood. The pyre remained as it was with the moonlight.
But the same voice returned.
"Stop hitting."
"Turn around."
"Stand where you are."
A pause.
"Or do you wish to die like them?"
The words cut deeper than any blade.
Instantly, one by one, with trembling hands, bodies, legs, they returned to their positions. Heads lowered. Bodies shaking uncontrollably. Hands clenched, legs barely able to hold their weight.
The remaining slaves, along with the soldiers who did not understand what had happened, began to panic silently. Their eyes darted in every direction, searching for the source of the voice.
But there was nothing only faint footprints with thin, dragging marks with no not a single drop of blood as if those who died had never existed at all.
The low, constant and yet unnerving humming sound still remained as it wrapped around the mind, tightening slowly, making every breath feel heavier. The soldiers' earlier laughter died completely, like a candle snuffed out. Fear took its place and spreading like darkness within them.
Even the slaves were no different as time passed. They began to see it. Within the pyre, a faint red glow. Something inside… watching them. Their terror deepened.
Then, A voice came again.
"Soldiers… move your ass quickly towards seats, immediately."
"Free men will remain in three groups around them."
"Selected soldiers… stand and maintain control."
The command echoed across the space.
Some soldiers moved at once, stiff and obedient, climbing upward toward the designated positions, bottles still clutched in their hands.
Others stayed behind, forcing themselves to control the crowd, though their hands trembled and their eyes refused to look toward the center.
Then suddenly, the earth began to quake.
A deep, rolling tremor spread beneath their feet, as if something vast was stirring below the ground itself. The six gates, which had remained completely still until now, began to vibrate.
Slowly, they started to open and a heavy, grinding sound filled the air, something… was entering. All eyes turned turned towards it.
From one of the gates, a figure emerged.
A man clad in full armor, his body covered from head to toe in dark, engraved plates. He sat upon a massive, armored lizard, its scales layered like shields, its eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. Each step it took cracked the ground beneath it.
From another gate—
A second rider appeared.
This one rode a giant deer, its antlers twisted and dripping with what looked like dried blood. Its breath came out in thick, mist-like bursts, and its hooves left dark imprints on the earth.
Then from the others—
More arrived.
A man atop a towering lion, its mane heavy like burning smoke.
Another riding a grotesque beast, a fusion of eagle, tiger, and snake, its wings twitching, its tail coiling restlessly, its gaze predatory and unnatural.
From another gate came a heavily armored rider upon a rhinoceros, its horn jagged like a broken blade.
And from the last, A man mounted on a massive bear, its body scarred, its breath rumbling like distant thunder. Each rider wore a different style of armor. Each carried a different weapon.
Without a word, they leapt forward with their mounts and vanished.
Swallowed by the surrounding darkness beyond the flares, as if they had never been there. Only the flickering flare light remained.
And in that dim, unstable glow, only the lower part of the ground could be seen clearly.
There the frontline soldiers began to step towards seats and some soldiers remained there with only the slaves who were arranging them in groups.
TBC...