"Ahhh…"
A faint sound slipped out broken, as if it were being forcibly dragged from a dry throat from the depths of the dark room.
A room that wasn't just dark… but suffocating, thick with blackness, as if the darkness itself were a tangible substance that could be touched.
"Aaah…"
The groan echoed again, weaker than before… but alive.
The air carried a heavy scent… the smell of completely burned flesh, the scent of warm ash mixed with something harsher; something like the remnants of a life that had been burned, yet not fully extinguished.
In a fragmented voice, barely distinguishable, she murmured:
"I… am… still… alive…"
The words were heavy, as if they were being torn from the depths of a body that no longer knew how to speak.
She couldn't stand.
She couldn't even move.
Her body lay on the ground like a broken piece of charcoal.
But within that absolute darkness… something began to change.
The darkness itself that heavy mass that had been swallowing the room started to coil around her body slowly. It wasn't mere shadow… but something like a cold, dense embrace seeping into her burned skin.
As if the darkness… was holding her.
Then her body began to move.
Not by her will.
But by something else.
The charred black layer that covered her body began to crack.
It split at first… then peeled away.
Slowly… very slowly…
Like the shedding of an old serpent's skin.
Pieces of burned flesh fell to the ground with a dry sound: Tick… tick…
And beneath it, new skin appeared.
Pale… faint… but alive.
She tried to move her arm.
It felt like trying to move a boulder.
But she succeeded.
Slowly… painfully slowly.
As if she were learning how to use her body again.
A fractured breath slipped into her chest as she muttered in a hoarse voice:
"How…?"
The fire had devoured her body entirely…
And she had endured it.
Then came the darkness…
And it embraced her.
She didn't understand how.
She didn't understand why.
But she was still alive.
She was now completely without clothing.
Everything she had worn had burned away completely… leaving nothing but scattered ash around her.
But that wasn't the strangest part.
The area stretching from her chest to her waist looked… different.
It wasn't like the rest of her body.
It was pale.
Almost translucent.
As if that part of her wasn't real flesh… but a faint shadow that could vanish at any moment.
She stared at it in confusion.
"What is this…?"
She slowly extended her hand and touched her skin there.
It was warm… but unnaturally light.
As if her body hadn't fully formed yet.
On her back…
Those fine strands that had once been burned away… began to return to life one by one, as if her body were silently rebuilding itself.
But suddenly…
Her expression tightened.
"Ah!"
Her tongue.
She felt a sudden heat striking it from within.
As if something… was being engraved into it.
A sharp pain… but strange.
Not the pain of burning.
But the pain of carving.
As if an invisible blade were inscribing something into her flesh.
She tried to open her mouth.
Tried to see.
But the darkness was far too dense.
"What… is happening…?"
The pain finally stopped.
But another sensation remained.
A feeling… of knowing.
As if something had been imprinted into her mind.
Just one thing.
A spell.
She hadn't learned it.
Hadn't read it.
But she knew it now… completely.
"…Flame."
She raised her trembling hand.
Focused for a moment.
A brief silence passed.
Then
Fshh…
A small flame appeared above her palm.
It was tiny… barely larger than a finger.
But it was bright.
Strangely bright within that darkness.
The fire flickered slowly above her hand, like a living creature.
It was close…
Yet at the same time felt slightly distant from her skin, as if it were floating above it.
She stared at it in astonishment.
"Really…?"
She carefully extended a finger toward it.
And touched it.
"Ah!"
She pulled her hand back immediately.
It was hot… very hot.
Not an illusion.
It was real fire.
She stared at it for a moment… then said with clear irritation:
"So… this is all I can do right now?!"
A small flame.
After all that.
After the fire.
After the pain.
After death… almost.
She let out a faint, sarcastic laugh.
But the laugh died quickly.
Suddenly, she remembered her situation.
She looked at her body… then at the darkness around her.
The silence was heavy.
Her face flushed slightly despite the darkness.
"…Damn it."
She muttered with obvious annoyance.
"How am I supposed to get out like this…?"
There was nothing for her to wear.
Not even a scrap of cloth.
Everything she had was reduced to black ash.
She pulled her arms slightly around her body, trying to cover herself even though no one was here… as far as she knew.
But the very thought was unsettling.
"This is bad…"
She sighed slowly.
Then raised her hand again and ignited the flame.
The small orange light danced along the blackened walls, revealing deep burn marks.
The walls…
The floor…
Even the ceiling.
Everything here had passed through fire.
She brought the flame closer to her body, trying to benefit from its warmth.
A faint heat began to spread across her cold skin.
She muttered in discomfort:
"…At least I can warm up a little."
She looked around cautiously.
Her narrowed eyes searched through the shadows.
Anything.
A piece of cloth.
A curtain.
Even an old sack.
Anything she could use to cover herself before leaving this place.
But deep inside…
A strange feeling began to creep in.
The darkness here…
Wasn't just darkness.
It was watching her.
Or at least…
That's how it felt.
She tightened her grip slightly around the flame.
Then exhaled sharply:
"Damn this…" …..
elia stood atop the stone walls, rigid like a statue carved from anxiety.
He didn't sit, nor did he allow himself to rest. His eyes swept the horizon over and over, as if trying to rip any movement out of the distance.
The wind slipped through the narrow cracks in the stone, carrying with it the scent of old dust… and the scent of something else.
Something that reminded him of death.
Earlier, he had sent some of the residents to carry out several tasks he had personally ordered.
He didn't explain much to them.
There wasn't time for that.
All he told them was simple and clear:
"Do what I told you… and as fast as possible. No matter the cost."
An entire day had passed like that.
A long day… heavy… slow.
But nothing happened.
And yet… no one relaxed.
What they had heard before was enough to plant fear deep in their bones.
Some began searching for places to hide.
Narrow passages between houses.
Old basements.
Even shallow pits in the ground.
They knew the kind of people who might come.
The elderly… those who had survived harsher years… had seen something similar once in their lives.
Only once.
And it had been enough to leave its memory like a scar in their minds.
But… no one told elia.
Not out of hatred.
Nor resentment.
But for a much simpler reason.
Fear.
In this place… when death approaches… every person becomes for themselves.
Each one must survive… in their own way.
elia stood watching the people below as he frowned slightly.
"What's wrong with them… I wonder?"
He looked at them one by one.
Some were running quickly through the narrow alleys.
Some were stacking supplies inside houses bags of fruit and vegetables, pieces of dried meat, jars of water.
Others carried anything that could be held in the hand and used as a weapon.
A stick.
A kitchen knife.
A rusted piece of iron.
Even a large stone.
As if that… would change anything when the fighting began.
Long hours passed.
Then the second day passed.
But still… nothing.
The sky remained silent.
The horizon remained empty.
The only thing that changed… was below.
Some blood slimes began to appear in the alleys.
Dark red, sticky masses crawling slowly, then wrapping around old corpses… and beginning to merge them into their gelatinous bodies.
The faint cracking sound of bones breaking echoed through the air from time to time.
elia grimaced slightly.
"Damn those things…"
Then he spat to the side.
"Where the hell are they…?"
He suddenly raised his voice as he looked at the people below.
"Hey! You!"
Several heads turned toward him immediately.
He shouted, "Prepare yourselves!"
That call had been repeated for two days.
Two full days of tense anticipation.
Every moment… they were waiting for something to happen.
For the enemy to appear.
For the attack to begin.
But… nothing happened.
Only silence.
elia let out a slow breath, his eyes still fixed on the distant road.
"What are they planning…?"
Then…
Something moved on the horizon.
He narrowed his eyes.
And from very far away…
A caravan appeared.
Slow-moving wooden carts.
And beside them… several iron cages swaying with the motion.
None of them seemed ready for battle.
No armor.
No formations.
No visible caution.
But elia didn't allow himself to relax.
He only listened to his mind.
'If we're not ready…'
'They'll tear us apart.'
Three days earlier…
While the caravan was still far away, Oliver had sent four of his men to scout the road a bit.
He walked slowly, trying to focus on the sounds around him.
The sound of the wind.
The sound of insects.
The sound of trees brushing against each other.
Then he suddenly frowned.
"Hey… you."
Several men turned toward him.
"Have you seen Marcus?"
The men exchanged glances, then started looking around.
"Wait…"
"Wasn't he here just a moment ago?"
After a few moments of quick searching, one of them returned, shaking his head.
"We don't see him anywhere, sir."
Another man sighed in disdain.
"Looks like that piece of crap went off to take a dump or something."
He laughed mockingly.
"Hah… just let him do whatever he wants."
No one cared much.
The four men returned shortly after and reported that all they had found nearby was a wounded creature writhing near the road.
Nothing important.
So the caravan continued on its way.
Slowly… very slowly.
There was no need to rush.
Every extra minute they lived without fighting… was a minute of rest.
And rest… was a rare treasure for anyone living this kind of life.
And as they moved along the road…
They finally found him.
Marcus.
He was lying beside a large tree.
Deeply asleep.
His arms were behind his head… as if he were taking a normal nap on a quiet day.
The men passed by him without stopping.
They kept talking and laughing… as if they hadn't seen anything.
One of them said while yawning:
"That lazy bastard…"
Then he spat on the ground.
"I just wish he'd be drowned in the sea."
Another laughed.
As for Oliver…
He was looking at Marcus as he passed by the iron cages.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
No one knew anything.
And it never crossed anyone's mind…
That Oliver had hidden a small truth from them.
A thought had crossed his mind days ago.
Maybe… just maybe…
Those they thought were nothing more than easy prey…
Had changed.
And might resist.
But he didn't like the thought.
So he buried it in his mind.
And sighed indifferently.
"Who cares about that…"
As for Marcus…
He opened one eye slightly.
Then closed it again.
Unbothered by any danger around him.
He was confident.
Completely confident.
That his presence here… would never be detected.
Never.
Not even by that massive tree standing beside him.
A tree… whose roots were unnaturally swollen.
And its trunk was bulging… as if it had swallowed too much.
Beneath the soil around it…
There were remains of bones.
Dozens of bodies that its roots had slowly devoured over the years.
But Marcus didn't care.
He simply smiled a small smile as he muttered to himself in a low voice:
"I hope you enjoy what you'll find, guys…"
Then he let out a short… sick laugh.
"Hehehe…"