"No more," the voice declared, broken but rising like a battle cry."Today... we fight—and we win!"
"Riven!"
His name echoed like thunder cracking open a dream.
Riven's eyes snapped open, lungs dragging in the crisp morning air as dry leaves spiraled down from the trees above. One of them landed softly on his cheek. He blinked. Then again. The world was still for a moment.
Across from him, Ami sat cross-legged on the earth, knees tucked to her chest, eyes wide with worry. Her lips moved, but the sound was lost in the mounting roar from beyond the trees.
Together, they turned to look.
A crowd had gathered at the heart of the village—shouts, angry voices, some cheering. At the center of the chaos stood a man clad in tattered business attire, one sleeve torn away, exposing a scarred arm wielding a jagged blade. He paced like a preacher on fire, riling up the villagers, his words whipping through the crowd like sparks in dry grass.
And then—
The sky broke.
A soundless flash. A shadow that swallowed light. And then it came.
A house-sized meteorite plunged from the heavens like judgment itself, striking dead-center in the crowd.
Impact.
A blinding white pulse erupted from the crater, flattening buildings, trees—bodies. The earth screamed. Bones cracked. Dust, debris, and blood exploded into the air. The crowd... was gone. Torn apart. Smeared into ash and red ruin.
Smoke curled like fingers. The silence that followed was suffocating.
Ami and Riven stood frozen, heartbeats thunderous. The heat singed their skin, even from this distance. Their breaths came short.
From the swirling dust, something emerged.
It moved with a sickening elegance—a Night Walker. Long limbs dragged against the ground, its skin a stretched canvas of gray sinew and scars. Where eyes should have been, there were only pits. Yet it saw. And it smiled.
Then the skies rained death.
More meteorites followed, crashing into the village in an apocalyptic hail. Homes burst into flames. Walls crumbled. The smell of iron and ash coated the air.
"Run," Riven whispered.
They sprinted, feet pounding across cracked stone and scorched wood. Screams followed them—high, panicked, dying screams. Behind them, more Night Walkers crawled from the smoke like maggots from a wound.
They raced past bodies. Friends. Neighbors. The baker's wife. A child clutching a stuffed doll, now missing a head.
When they reached their home—or what used to be—it was only rubble and fire. Half the roof was gone. Walls broken like paper. And then they saw him.
Grandfather.
Pinned beneath a beam, throat already torn, body quivering in pain. A Night Walker loomed behind him, jaw unhinged like a predator savoring its kill. Blood soaked his beard, but his eyes still found them.
"Go... Go!" he croaked.
Then his head was taken. Brutally. Messily. The blade didn't cut—it ripped. Ami screamed, dropping to her knees. Her voice cracked into sobs.
But there was no time.
Riven pulled her up, hands trembling but firm. He didn't look back. He couldn't. Not now.
They ran. Through alleys of flame. Over bridges reduced to planks. Past ruined lives and broken dreams.
They reached the outer wall—a jagged breach gaping open like a wound in the earth—and stumbled out onto the hills beyond. The village, their entire world, burned behind them.
Ami collapsed. Her hands dug into the dirt. Her chest heaved with grief. She cried like someone who no longer feared death—only its cruelty.
Riven knelt beside her, staring back at the smoking ruin.Their home.Their family.Gone.
But something was wrong.
His skin prickled. The hairs on his neck stood tall. A chill ran down his spine. Slowly, he turned his head toward the trees behind them.
A shadow moved.
Half-hidden in the foliage stood a Night Walker. Still. Watching. Its smile wide, split from ear to ear, as if savoring the chase. It had followed them. Stalked them.
Riven stood, heart pounding. "Ami..."
But it was too late.
More figures emerged—four, six, then eight. Surrounding them. Silent. Grinning. Hungry. Their eyes, if they had any, gleamed with bloodlust.
Behind them, the cliff yawned—200 meters of sheer drop into nothing but sharp rocks and mist.
Riven stepped in front of Ami. He didn't speak. There was nothing left to say.
Then they came. Crawling on all fours, screeching, sprinting, limbs flailing—dozens. A storm of teeth and claws and hatred.
Ami turned, eyes wide with terror—and felt it.
A push.
Sudden. Firm. Gentle.
Her body lifted off the ground, air rushing past her. The cliff disappeared beneath her feet.
She was falling.
Time slowed.
She saw Riven—his eyes shimmering, lips trembling, tears streaking down his face.
She reached for him.
And then—
Pain.
Riven gasped. A blade—no, a claw—pierced through his gut. Another tore through his shoulder. Then came the others.
He didn't scream. He didn't beg.
He just looked at her—until the swarm took him.
She saw it all. His body torn apart, limbs shredded, blood spraying like rain. A red mist covered the ground.
And then the clouds swallowed her.
The last thing she heard was his voice, echoing through her memory.
"survive"