I awoke in a place that made no sense.
The grass beneath my feet was absurdly green, as if brushed by some entity obsessed with perfection. Black rocks jutted from the ground—angular, slick with a silent dampness. A thick mist crawled in all directions, swallowing the landscape beyond the surrounding hills. The silence was grotesque, too dense to be natural, as if the world had forgotten how to breathe.
Where... am I?
My body moved on its own, without my will. My bare feet pressed into the soft, wet grass as I walked, guided only by curiosity and the silent panic building deep in my stomach. The wind was still, as if the air itself had been trapped inside a dreaming cage.
I was with the cult... the Nodule, the pain, the blood. Did I die? Am I dreaming? But why would I dream of a place like this?
I kept walking until I reached the highest hill. The stones there were warm to the touch, even without sun. My heart beat erratically. Questions piled up, but no answers came. Only that landscape, muffled by fog.
At the top, a nauseating vertigo struck me. My eyes widened.
Corpses. Dozens—no, hundreds. Mutilated. Dismembered. Guts spread like scarlet ropes across the land. Heads split open, eyes staring into nothing. The smell of putrid flesh rose like an invisible hand choking me. The air felt rotten.
I nearly vomited.
What the fuck is this...?
Something moved. The mist stirred—as if it had a life of its own.
To my left, a creature emerged—if it could even be called that. It walked on its arms like an animal, though its limbs were long and twisted, black as hardened soot. Necrotic-green eyes glowed in its deformed skull, and its mouth was an arch of triangular fangs like a starving shark. Spikes jutted from its forearms. It growled. Then it began devouring the bodies, cracking skulls open with its claws to slurp the brains like a greedy beast.
And then... another monster.
It slowly stepped out of the mist, at least two and a half meters tall. Ten arms—each moving independently, like serpents. Four heads rotated in opposite directions, as if each one heard a different voice. Its skin was translucent in places, revealing pulsating muscles and slow-moving organs. Burned runes lined its torso like living scars.
Two more followed:
One looked like a fusion of child and bird, with flesh-stitched wings and a single green eye that consumed most of its face. It made sounds like crying—a hoarse, desperate wail—as it gently plucked fingers from a corpse with disturbing tenderness.
The other crawled like a giant worm, but dozens of mouths covered its back, each whispering words that seemed to come from inside my own mind. Names. Phrases. Promises.
They looked at me.
All of them. As if they truly saw me. As if they had been waiting.
Green eyes. All of them.
I screamed.
And woke up.
The stone ceiling above me was still. A soft bed beneath me, the cold touch of a sheet against my sweaty skin. My chest heaved. The room was dark, lit only by faintly glowing fungi in the cracks of the wall.
But the smell... still lingered in the air.
My eyes were open, but I still felt trapped between dream and reality. The stone ceiling above seemed to breathe. Moisture clung to the edges of the stones—drops sliding down like sweat on ancient flesh.
Was that a dream...? My mind spun, heavy as if it had crossed a fog too thick to clear.
I tried to move my arm and felt the fabric of a clean sheet, surprisingly soft. The bed I lay in felt out of place, incompatible with everything I knew of this place. Why such comfort after hell?
That's when I heard a soft breath beside me... and a low, delicate voice, like one used to whispering in crypts.
"You have awakened."
I flinched instinctively, reaction kicking in before thought. I turned my head, trembling—and then I saw her.
She was kneeling beside the bed, hands resting on her lap, like a servant ready to pray—or perhaps offer herself. Her skin was extremely pale, tinged green at the edges, as if she absorbed something from the very air. Her hair was long and fine, damp white-green, braided with moss and tiny roots. Her eyes, necrotic green, shone with inhuman stillness. A spiral ritual scar adorned her neck—black and green—branded with a living root.
She wore a medieval maid's outfit—thick, worn linen dyed dark moss-green, detailed with blackened thread and oxidized silver runes. A translucent veil partially covered her face, where dried fungi and entwined roots decorated the fabric in patterns that seemed to whisper ancient enchantments. A ritual collar of polished bone, engraved with a rune, sealed her neck—gift or bond, maybe both.
She was barefoot. Small sprouts and moss grew between the seams of her clothing. Everything about her seemed alive—and silently rotting... like a flower grown on the altar of a dead god.
I stared at that figure for a long time—I didn't know if she was a vision, a hallucination, or just another piece of the nightmare.
"Wh-who are you?" I asked, my voice cracking more than I'd like.
She bowed in a slow, fluid motion, deep and reverent, and replied:
"My name is Niryn, and I have been assigned as your personal servant, my lord."
Hearing those words—personal servant and my lord—my expression twisted in pure confusion.
"My lord? Personal servant? What the hell are you talking about?" I asked, frowning as I looked at her.
Is this some kind of joke? They threw me into hell, made me go through that... and now they're playing games?
Niryn remained kneeling beside the bed, her posture straight like a living statue. Her face stayed neutral, her eyes fixed on me as if she were in the presence of something sacred.
"Well, my lord," she began, her voice low and reverent, "this is the truth: people brought here are normally exposed to a diluted or inferior form of the Nodule—unstable versions, crafted to infect and spread our faith... Even then, most do not survive."
She paused briefly, waiting for a reaction. When I nodded silently, she continued, her tone gentle:
"But you... you have merged with the original Node. The real one. That hasn't happened in a hundred and ten years. That makes your presence here... a miracle. You are now the Apostle—the Host of the Node. And I have been assigned as your personal servant, dedicated to assisting and guiding you at any time or situation you desire."
I turned away, staring once more at the darkened stone ceiling. A heavy sigh escaped me, and with it came bitter thoughts.
So all that hell... wasn't in vain. But even so, I don't like this. I never wanted this role. If I had failed, they'd have discarded me like all the others.
I looked back at her. Niryn remained perfectly still—her pale, profane face in the half-light felt as real as a prophecy. If what she says is true... then my situation is good. Better than most, at least. I sighed again, this time with more resolve.
The best thing to do now... is to make the most of it. Maybe, one day, I'll find a way to escape. But for now, I need to get stronger. Strong enough to do anything.
I rubbed my face with both hands, as if I could wipe away doubt with a simple gesture. But when I opened my eyes again, the decision had already settled within me.