We thought we could save her.
A girl, lost and terrified, trapped in the ruins where the monsters hunted like vultures.
My friend and I moved carefully, the city's silence pressing down like a weight. But the moment we stepped into the open, the shadows erupted.
Ghosts appeared first — ethereal hands clawing at the air, trying to reach her. Then the wolves. Their glowing eyes fixed on her like a predator's final gaze.
Before we could react, they lunged.
One ghost wrapped its icy fingers around her wrist, chilling her to the bone. A wolf sank its teeth deep into her leg.
She screamed — a sound so raw and desperate it ripped through the silence.
Then the horror began.
With a sickening, tearing noise — tantase — the ghost and wolf pulled her apart.
Her body ripped clean in two, blood mixing with shadows and dust.
We stood frozen. Traumatized.
Watching death claim her right before our eyes, helpless to stop it.
That moment broke something inside me.
Because this world didn't just want to kill you. It wanted to erase you — piece by piece.
And we were next.