The robe didn't fit right. The sleeves were too long. It dragged on behind him catching dirt with each step.
Locke didn't care. It was warm enough. It kept the cold winter wind off his arms.
He had walked alone through multiple districts. On a narrow trail that had slowly widened as the land shifted from dry brush to packed dirt. His shoes were splitting near the toes, and one of the soles clicked against stone when he stepped down too hard.
A folded map was tucked beneath his arm. Creased, smudged, and starting to fall apart at the corners.
He'd looked at it a few times but memorized the layout so he didn't need to open it again.
Artoria
He didn't know much about it. It was the capital of the Empire. Maybe a place where he can find them again.
The cold wind picked up. He pulled the robe tighter, hood up, and kept moving.
He passed a stone marker around late afternoon. The writing was half faded—old Empire script, curled and shallow. He slowed to glance at it but didn't stop.
What caught his attention was not the stone but the people nearby.
Three of them, sitting by a wagon. A man and two others — younger, maybe. One of them leaned forward and muttered something while twisting their hand in the air. A small tool — a glowing wrench or hook drifted out of the cart and into their palm.
No one reacted. No one seemed impressed.
Locke: Seeing how everyone else reacted, is that normal? It didn't look like a regular magician trick you would see. That looked—real.
He kept walking.
Further down the road, he saw a boy guiding what looked like a thread of light in the air, tied in a loop above his hand. Another boy was laughing, trying to grab it. When he touched it, it fizzled and vanished.
Locke's pace slowed.
He didn't speak.
He didn't stare.
Locke: They know how to do things I don't even have words for. Is it from the capital? Do they teach it there? Is it something you grow into? Would I be able to do the same as them?
He pushed those thoughts down and picked up his pace.
The path flattened as it reached a wide, grassy dip in the land.
A clearing opened ahead, quiet and uneven. Grass grew tall in patches. Off to the right, a stone wall which was crumbling was sandwiched in between two trees.
It looked like it had been apart of something. A house maybe. Or a fence.
At the far edge stood a dead tree, crooked and split down the middle, like it had been struck a long time ago and never healed right.
Locke stepped off the trail. His shoes pressed into the soft ground with a dull crunch .
Locke: Feels very empty out here…It's just very quiet.
The moon had already risen above him. A crescent moon with rings of ash swirling around it.
Pale blue light spilled down over him.
He glanced up at it once.
Locke: Why does the moon look weird again? This has been happening a lot lately. Could it mean something? …I might just be paranoid. But it sure does look pretty.
Then—
Abolt of pure white light and ash struck the ground near a bunch of trees that were a little far from where Locke was.
The jagged beam of white shrank inwards after a few seconds.
It didn't fall like a flame or crack like lightning. It just appeared—a narrow strike of white, burning straight through the air, kicking up a swirl of soot. It fell like as if it had been directed from the moon itself.
Locke's eyes widened.
Locke: What… What was that?
He stared at the spot.
Still no sound, no movement.
Locke: I..I should leave—Actually no, I should look. If I run now and never find out what that was, it's going to eat at me forever. What if it's some kind of hidden treasure?
He hesitated for a few more seconds.
Then—he ran.
Towards the strike.
The robe tugged at his shoulders as he ran, too long, too heavy, but he didn't stop.
Locke: Okay…this might be stupid. You don't even know what it was. What if it's dangerous? What if someone else saw it and they are already there? Or maybe no one else saw it and i'm the only one dumb enough to be directly running straight towards it.
The trees ahead leaned close together. Dead things grew in rows together. Not quite a forest. Just a patch of tall shadows, broken fence posts, and trees.
The light had fallen just beyond them.
As he reached the edge, the air changed.
He slowed. Lifted a sleeve to his face. The dust was thick, it wasn't smoke. It moved to slow for that. It hung there, suspended in the air like powder in water. It made his throat itch, and when he finally breathed it in, it stuck behind his nose.
Ash.
Locke: From the light? Or was it already here? It's falling so soft, like snow. But it's dry. And heavier. Feels like I shouldn't be breathing this in.
He pressed the robes sleeve over his mouth.
The ash swirled around his shoes slowly as he stepped forward. His vision was blurring slightly from the air itself. The world looked distorted.
Locke: Why is it so quiet? Shouldn't there be wind? Or birds? Or—anything?
He crouched low behind a dead log. Waited.
Then—
Movement.
There, just past the tree. Through the ash haze.
Something was drifting through.
Locke squinted. His eyes stung slightly. The air was thick, dry, sharp in the back of his throat.
The shape was tall. Pale. Unsteady.
It took another step.
Not a normal one.
Too smooth.
Too slow.
Like it wasn't walking at all. Just shifting forward, like it carried on something not quite touching the ground.
As the ash parted slightly, Locke saw more clearly.
Arms. Long enough to drag someone. It's fingertips scraped across the dirt as it moved, leaving a faint trail behind.
Legs. Bent the wrong way. Thin and tall, like stalks of bleached wood.
It's torso was short. Hunched down beneath a spine that was curling downwards from above. Like something had crumpled it in half and left it that way.
And it's head—
Low. Forward. Dangling.
No mouth.
No features.
But a singular eye.
Just one.
Right in the center of its face—or what might've been its face, a big, pitch-black eye, set deep into the smooth white surface.
And it was blinking…A lot.
Not regularly or naturally.
Quick erratic flutters, like it couldn't decide whether it wanted to be open at all
Locke: It has an eye. Just one.
But it keeps blinking. Like it's not sure what it's looking at. Does it see me? Does it even know what seeing is?
Locke was frozen.
The ash drifted around him. It clung to his skin and robe and lips, sticking between breaths.
Locke: Was it here before the light fell? Did it come with it? Out of it? Or from somewhere else entirely?
it's still blinking…
The creature took another step forward. Its long arms dragged behind. One of its fingers twitched as it moved—sharp, like a hooked nail catching something invisible in the air.
It wasn't coming toward him.
Not directly.
But it was close enough now that he could hear it breathe.
Except—
No.
Not breathing.
What was that noise?
Soft…irregular.
Like a bone tapping on the inside of a wooden box.
Locke backed up slowly. One foot behind the other.
No noise.
No rush.
Locke: Just get to the trees. Stay low. Don't fall. If it starts moving—
The creatures head snapped towards him.
And this time it didn't blink.
Not even once
Locke: Okay… It sees me.
The eye locked on.
Locke: Definetly sees me.
The thing attempted to lurch forward but immediatly turned its head upward and stopped moving.
Something dropped straight out of the tree directly above it.
A woman.
She landed on top of the creature, both boots slamming down with a hard crack. Swung her scythe and chopped the head right off. The impact dropped the thing flat, ash bursting up around them.
The woman rolled off, brown coat whipping behind her, and came up on one knee beside the downed creature. She wore a black headband, and her brown hair was messy from the fall, like she'd done this more than once and never cared how it looked.
She dusted ash off her shoulder, exhaled through her nose, and muttered.
???: "Ugly little freak."
Then she stood
That's when Locke saw the scythe.
It gave off a faint green glow. Long and curved.
Locke stared at it.
Locke: What kind of weapon is that? Why is it glowing? Who—what—
The woman turned around and noticed him.
Blinking and tilting her head slightly.
???: "Huh."
That was it.
No question.
No alarm.
Just.
Huh.