Rian and Nara moved through the mist like ghosts. Every step splashed against the puddles of ash and blood. The world felt smaller now, like something had swallowed all the sound.
"Over there," Nara whispered.
A building stood on the corner, half-burned but still intact—a church. Its cross leaned crookedly against the black sky, one side melted from the heat. The heavy wooden doors were cracked, but closed.
Rian hesitated. "A church, huh?"
Nara's voice trembled. "It looks safe."
He didn't believe that anymore. But she needed hope, even fake hope. So he pushed the door open.
It creaked, echoing too loud in the emptiness.
Inside, the air was thick with dust and old incense. The stained glass windows were shattered, the saints' faces missing. Candles had melted into black pools on the floor.
And at the far end, in front of a crumbling altar, someone was kneeling.
An old man in tattered priest robes. His lips moved constantly, whispering words that had lost all strength.
"Father," Nara called softly. "You're alive?"
The man turned, startled. His eyes were red, but not hollow. For a moment, Rian saw something almost human there—faith, maybe.
"Children," the priest said, voice shaking. "You shouldn't be here. The night isn't over."
Rian scanned the corners of the church. No movement, no noise. For once, they seemed alone.
Nara stepped forward. "We needed a place to rest."
The priest nodded slowly. "Then rest. You are safe in God's house."
Rian almost laughed. "Safe, huh? Tell that to the rest of the city."
The priest's gaze hardened. "You've lost your faith, son."
"I watched people get torn apart," Rian said. "Faith didn't stop that."
"Faith isn't a shield," the old man whispered. "It's a light."
"Yeah? Looks like your light's gone out."
Nara grabbed Rian's arm. "Stop."
He sighed, pulling away. "Whatever. Just don't expect miracles."
They settled near the back pews. Nara leaned against Rian's shoulder, eyes half-closed. The warmth of her small body kept him grounded.
The priest remained at the altar, hands clasped, murmuring prayers to something that wasn't listening.
Rian couldn't take his eyes off him. There was something strange about the way the man prayed—not desperation, not hope. It was habit. Like he'd done it so long that he didn't know how to stop.
God's house, Rian thought bitterly. Where was God when the sky broke?
He looked up at the cracked ceiling. Through the hole, he could see faint purple streaks pulsing in the sky—the same light that had started it all.
That light wasn't divine. It was death.
And yet, here was this man, whispering to a God that never answered.
Hours passed. The rain turned heavier, drumming on the roof.
Rian tried to sleep, but the whispers wouldn't stop. They had grown louder since the last time he fed.
Hunger doesn't wait.There's strength nearby. Taste it.
He pressed a hand over his ear. "Not now," he muttered.
"What?" Nara murmured beside him.
"Nothing. Go back to sleep."
She looked up at him, worry clouding her face. "You're shaking."
"I'm fine."
She didn't believe him. Neither did he.
The whispers crawled deeper, curling around his thoughts. You can't fight what you are.
He clenched his jaw. Shut up.
But it didn't shut up.
And then he smelled something.
Rot.
It was faint, mixed with incense and wet wood—but he knew that smell. The smell of the Hollow.
"Father?" he called.
The priest didn't answer. His voice still whispered the same prayer, over and over.
Rian stood, cautious. Every instinct screamed at him.
When he reached the altar, his stomach turned.
The priest's hands were bleeding—deep gashes in his palms where the rosary beads had cut into the skin. But he didn't seem to notice. His eyes were wide, empty, staring at the statue of the Virgin that no longer glowed.
"Father," Rian said again.
The priest turned slowly. His smile was too wide.
"God has come," he whispered.
Rian stepped back. "Nara, stay behind me."
The priest's body twitched. His neck cracked to one side, bones shifting under his skin.
And then, the whisper in Rian's mind went silent.
That was how he knew.
The priest wasn't human anymore.
The Hollow inside him moved like a shadow crawling under the skin.
He dropped the rosary. The beads scattered across the floor.
Nara gasped. "Oh no…"
"Run," Rian said.
The priest lunged.
Rian swung the pipe, hitting the creature across the jaw. Bone shattered, but the thing didn't stop. It slammed into him, knocking him onto the altar steps.
Its breath smelled like death and candle smoke.
Rian struggled, trying to keep it from biting him. "Damn it!"
The creature screamed—a wet, broken sound.
Nara grabbed a broken candle holder and smashed it against the creature's head. It reeled back, hissing.
Rian took the chance. He swung again, harder. Once. Twice. The skull cracked open.
The body twitched, fell still.
And the light returned.
That same, sickly glow leaked from its wounds. It floated toward Rian like smoke drawn to fire.
He backed away. "No. Not again."
The whisper returned, soft and sweet. You need it.
"Stop."
Take it. Or die like the rest.
Nara reached for him. "Rian, don't!"
But it was too late. The light touched him, and everything went white.
He gasped. The pain, the hunger, the exhaustion—all vanished. His strength surged. His heart pounded like thunder.
But beneath it, there was that taste. That unbearable, addictive sweetness that filled every nerve.
He dropped the pipe, hands trembling.
Nara's voice broke. "You said you could fight it!"
He looked at her with glowing eyes. "I tried."
Tears welled up in her eyes. "You're changing, Rian. Every time you do that…"
"I know."
He hated himself for it. But he couldn't stop.
Not anymore.
They buried what was left of the priest outside the church, under the rain.
Nara whispered a short prayer. Rian didn't.
He just stood there, staring at the cross leaning over the grave.
Once, he might've believed in something. In a reason for everything.
But now?
He saw what happened when people prayed for salvation. Nothing.
No miracles. No light.
Just silence.
"Do you think God's still watching?" Nara asked softly.
Rian looked at the sky. The purple cracks were wider now, glowing through the clouds.
"If He is," he said, "He stopped caring."
Nara didn't reply. She just wiped her tears and walked back toward the church.
Rian stayed a while longer. Rain soaked his hair and clothes, dripping down his face.
He stared at his hands. The faint violet glow still pulsed beneath his skin, even now.
A reminder.
A curse.
Maybe the old man was right. Maybe faith was a light.
But Rian's light didn't come from heaven. It came from the souls he devoured.
And it whispered in his ear like a devil wearing his own voice.
Pray if you want, it said. But no one's coming. Only the strong survive.
Rian looked back at the burning city, at the endless cracks in the sky.
His jaw tightened. "Then I'll be strong."
He turned and walked into the darkness after Nara, the rain washing away the ashes at his feet—but not the guilt burning inside him.