The walls of Greywick hunched against the horizon like the ribs of a long-dead beast, black steel patched where claws had once torn through. Floodlights buzzed faintly in the morning haze, their glow fighting a losing battle against the gray sky. Beyond the walls lay only fog and broken towers.
Inside, life pretended to be ordinary;
the market square was already alive with voices. Merchants haggled over fruit and scavenged machine parts. Children darted between carts, their laughter quick and fleeting. Hunters leaned in the shadows of doorframes, their armor scuffed and weapons clinking against their hips.
Sera Quinn balanced her chair on two legs outside the canteen, her hair the color of mint glass as it caught the dull light. Her eyes wandered lazily over the bustle, her grin came easy—as if forgetting, or not caring, that Greywick was a city built on top of its own grave.
"Careful, Quinn," the vendor muttered behind her. "One good push and you'll crack your skull. Not that anyone'd notice the difference."
Sera tipped the chair back another inch. "Maybe that's my plan. I hear head injuries are a quick way to get out of gate duty."
The vendor snorted, shaking his head, but a pair of kids nearby giggled.
Sera winked at them, then let the chair thump back down on all fours. The sound made a few heads turn—people were jumpy this morning.
She noticed it in the quiet spaces. People's pauses between haggling. The way voices carried too sharply in the square.
And the birds... where were the birds?
Sera tilted her head, squinting at the sky. Usually, a few crows circled the walls by this hour. But today, nothing moved above Greywick but the sluggish clouds.
Someone else seemed to notice as well. A trader cut off mid-sentence. Then another. One by one, voices died until the square was filled only with the faint buzz of the floodlights.
The ground gave a low, vibrating hum. Metal rattled against metal as the wall groaned.
Sera stood, brushing dust from her trousers, her smile twitching sharper.
"Ah. Lovely," she murmured.
Fog thickened beyond the walls. The hum deepened into a rumble. A mother scooped up her child, clutching him so tightly he cried. Hunters pushed through the crowd, barking orders. The words were distant, swallowed by the sound crawling through the steel.
Then a bronze bell tolled from the wall—once, twice—before breaking into a frantic, uneven clamor. Horns blared in answer, sharp and panicked, their echoes bouncing between the steel plates.
Someone shouted from the ramparts. The word carried through the market like a spark through dry straw.
"Gate!"
Immediately, all tension broke as the crowd erupted in screams. Merchants abandoned their stalls, families dropped everything and ran for torn shelters carved into the walls. The guards wrestled open heavy shutters, revealing the black jaws of a mounted ballista, already armed with barbed shafts. The town square dissolved into chaos in the span of a breath.
Sera didn't move.
The noise of panic swept around her, a tide breaking against stone. She tilted her head toward the gates, lips curling at the tremor that rattled through her chest.
The hum cracked into a howl as the air split.
Beyond the wall, a vertical wound tore the fog apart. Shadows writhed within, bending light into shapes that didn't belong to this world. The steel panels groaned, buckling as though the gate itself were tugging them forward.
Light bled from the wound in the air, casting the fog in shifting colors that hurt to look at; shadows pressed against the veil, their shapes with too many limbs and eyes, each glowing like embers through smoke.
Then they spilled out.
The first creature hit the earth in a wet thud. Its body was half-wolf, half-insect, plated with slick black chitin that cracked as it landed. Its jaw split too wide, as mandibles gnashed in rhythm to the Gate's hum. Another followed, then three more, their claws scraping sparks from the cobblestones.
Screams cut the air as townspeople stampeded for their shelters. Hunters rushed forward, blades and spears in hand, their armor clattering with every step. The clash began in an instant, steel hitting chitin and teeth on flesh.
Sera didn't run.
Her legs wanted to. Her chest screamed at her to move, to vanish into the crowd. But her eyes had locked on a boy no older than ten, frozen in the middle of the square. His mother had already been swept away by the press of bodies, leaving him alone, staring as the monsters poured through the Gate.
A shadow loomed over him. One of the creatures had broken from the pack, its jaw yawning wide.
Before she could think, Sera broke into a sprint. Her boots skid across the stones as she slammed into the creature shoulder-first, spun, and shoved the boy toward the shelters. He stumbled, nearly going down, then vanished into the rush of bodies.
The monster recovered and barreled toward her. Its mandibles clacked, wide enough to take her head off her shoulders.
Her heartbeat roared in her ears. Her every instinct screamed, you're going to die.
But... she laughed.
It tore out of her throat without permission, sharp and breathless, bubbling up like water through cracked stone. The sound rang against the chaos of screams and steel, absurd in the face of death.
The creature's jaw wrapped around her head, and with a chilling crunch, bit down.
---
[You have been recognized by the Archetype: The Jester.]
[Fragment Acquired: Trickster's Guile]
---
Light shivered at the edges of her vision. The world stuttered—and for a heartbeat, there were three of her. Afterimages flickered in the monster's path. Its jaws clamped down on one, sparks flying as if it had bitten through glass.
The real Sera stumbled sideways, snatching a broken spear haft from the ground. Terror screamed through her bones; laughter burst free anyway. She rammed the jagged head upward, under the plates of its neck.
The beast convulsed, shrieking. Black ichor sprayed across her arms. It bucked, but her grip was iron, her terror giving weight to her hands until it collapsed with a final twitch.
Sera crashed to her knees, chest heaving, blood and oil stinging her nose. A laugh cracked out of her, sharp and broken, tumbling over her gasps. She pressed a hand to the cobblestones, shoulders shaking, breathless giggles spilling like they had a life of their own.
Above the corpse, the air shimmered. A faint glow seeped free, swirling into the shape of a red haze. It pulsed dully, no brighter than a lantern sputtering on its last oil. The light hung there, wrong and waiting, as if the creature's death had left something behind.
Another beast fell nearby under a hunter's blade. From its body rose the same strange glow, but brighter—a deeper red, steady and strong. People flinched at the sight. Someone hissed a word under their breath, half fear, half awe.
An Echo.
A civilian staggered from behind a broken stall, clutching his side. Blood soaked his shirt, his face pale with strain. He saw the glow. His lips moved around a whisper. "Please…"
"Leave it!" a hunter shouted.
"Pull him back!" another voice cried, raw with fear.
But the man lurched forward, dragging himself the last few feet. His hand closed on the glow.
For a heartbeat, nothing. Then his wounds sealed. His back straightened. The chain in his grip lashed out, catching a monster's jaw and ripping it loose in a spray of black ichor.
Gasps rippled through the square.
Then his breathing changed.
Harsh, ragged, bestial. His eyes widened, pupils drowning in red as veins swelled black across his skin. His teeth bared, grinding audibly. The chain whistled again, smashing through a guard's shield and arm in one brutal strike. The man howled, not in pain but in rage, and flung the wounded hunter aside.
He didn't stop. The chain tore into another beast, then rebounded into the chest of a guard standing too close. Bones cracked like kindling. Screams scattered through the square as civilians fled from the rampage.
Hunters tried to surround him, but more insect-wolves spilled from the Gate, forcing them back into the melee. The corrupted man staggered forward through the chaos, red light burning from his eyes. His chain dragged sparks across the cobblestones as it reeled for another swing.
Then he heard it. Sera's laughter.
Thin, cracked, but still ringing through the haze. She was hunched on her knees, ichor dripping from her arms, broken spear haft trembling in her grip. Her chest hitched with every breath, but the laughter spilled out anyway, a raw and absurd sound against the silence left by the dead.
His head snapped toward her. The red in his eyes blazed.
He roared and charged.
Sera's laugh cracked higher, near hysterical as she tried to push herself upright. Her legs barely moved. The haft splintered in her hands. Hunters shouted warnings, but none were close enough.
Above her fallen kill, the faint red Echo pulsed once. Then it shivered.
And through the chaos, she heard it—a faint, broken giggle.
It matched hers.
Her laughter tangled with it, indistinguishable, until it sounded like the two were laughing together.
The corrupted man lunged, chain raised high.
Still laughing, Sera reached for the Echo.