The night was colder than it should have been, the air biting at my skin as I walked through the desolate landscape, my steps muffled by the rubble beneath my boots. I hadn't stopped since my encounter with the mysterious figure in the forest. The words it had spoken echoed in my mind, like a constant hum I couldn't escape.
You are already his. You are the destroyer.
I was bound to Alekhan. The god who had awakened the dead. The god who had chosen me.
I couldn't get his presence out of my head. I could feel his influence in every step I took, in every breath I drew. The hunger gnawed at me constantly, a presence in the back of my mind urging me to feed. It was always there, like an insatiable shadow, waiting for me to give in.
But I couldn't. Not yet.
I had to fight. I had to find a way out.
The world around me was falling apart. The undead roamed the streets in droves, their twisted forms stumbling through the rubble, their minds lost to the abyss. But there was more than just the dead out there. There were others. Survivors like me, scattered across the wasteland, fighting to stay alive.
I had seen them, fleeting glimpses in the distance—people hiding in the ruins, making desperate attempts to survive. But I couldn't bring myself to approach them. Not yet.
I needed to think. I needed to understand what was happening to me. Why had Alekhan chosen me? What did he want?
The forest around me seemed to close in, the trees tall and dark, their branches reaching out like fingers, trying to pull me back into the shadows. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the distant growl of the undead. But even they couldn't drown out the voices in my head—the whispers that told me I was no longer human, that I had crossed a line I could never return from.
I stopped in my tracks, my breath shallow, and pressed my hand to my chest. The weight of it all was unbearable.
The hunger was louder now, the need to feed growing stronger with every passing moment. I could feel the souls of the dead around me, floating just out of reach, waiting for me to take them. And I could feel Alekhan, his presence like a looming storm, waiting for me to give in.
"No," I whispered to myself, my voice trembling. "I won't be his puppet."
But the words didn't reassure me. They sounded hollow. The truth was, I wasn't sure if I was still capable of resisting. I didn't know how much of me was left, how much of my humanity I had already lost.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. There had to be a way. There had to be something I could do.
I thought back to what the figure had said in the forest. You are the destroyer. Those words echoed in my mind, digging deeper into the dark corners of my thoughts. I was more than just a victim in this. I was a catalyst. I was the one who would either bring salvation or destruction.
But which path would I choose?
I didn't have the answer. And that terrified me.
I opened my eyes and looked around. The forest was empty. Silent. Yet, I could still feel it—the presence of something watching me, waiting for me to make a move. I had to find out more. I had to understand the truth about Alekhan and the role I was supposed to play in all of this.
The whispers in my mind grew louder, more urgent.
Feed. Feed and become stronger. Embrace the power.
I clenched my fists, trying to push the voices away. But they were persistent. They were part of me now.
And that terrified me.
I couldn't stay here. Not with the hunger clawing at me, not with the darkness closing in. I had to find answers. I had to uncover the truth about Alekhan, about the world, about myself.
I took one last look at the forest before I turned and walked toward the city.
The city had changed since I last saw it. The streets, once bustling with life, were now silent, save for the shuffling footsteps of the undead. Buildings were reduced to crumbling husks, their windows shattered, their walls cracked and broken. The air was thick with smoke, the smell of burning flesh and decay hanging in the atmosphere like a heavy fog.
But despite the destruction, the city was not entirely abandoned. I could feel it—there were still people here. Survivors, hidden among the wreckage, struggling to hold on.
I moved cautiously through the streets, my senses on high alert. The hunger was louder now, pushing me forward, urging me to find a soul to consume. But I couldn't give in. Not yet.
I rounded a corner and froze. There, in the distance, I saw a figure—human, or at least it appeared to be. It was crouched behind a pile of rubble, its movements careful, almost wary.
I took a step closer, my heart pounding in my chest.
I wasn't sure why, but something about this person drew me in. It wasn't the hunger that called to me—it was something else, something deeper.
I crept forward, my boots silent on the broken pavement. I had to get closer. I had to see if they were a threat—or if they could be an ally.
As I neared, the figure turned, and I froze.
It was a woman, her face pale, her eyes wide with fear. Her clothes were torn, and she was covered in dirt and blood. But despite the ragged appearance, there was something about her that seemed familiar.
"Are you—?" I began, but the words caught in my throat. The hunger surged within me, louder than ever before, and I had to force myself not to reach out and consume her soul.
But then I saw it—the faint glow above her head.
A soul.
Alive.
And it was calling to me.
"No," I muttered under my breath, backing away.
The woman looked at me, her eyes filled with confusion. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice trembling.
I couldn't answer. I couldn't even bring myself to speak. I could feel the soul above her, flickering like a flame in the dark. It was so close.
But the hunger—it was so strong.
"I can't," I whispered. "I won't."
But as I turned to leave, I heard her voice again, this time more urgent.
"Wait!"
I stopped, my body tense, my breath shallow. I turned to face her, but I couldn't look at her eyes. Not with the hunger clawing at me.
"What do you want?" I asked, my voice rough.
The woman stepped forward slowly, her eyes studying me. "You're different," she said softly. "I can feel it. There's something about you… you're not like the others."
I felt a pang of fear. "What do you mean?"
"You don't belong here," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You've been touched by something else… something dark."
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
"I've seen others like you," she continued, her eyes narrowing. "The ones who feed. The ones who are chosen." She paused, her gaze locking onto mine. "You're not the only one. But you're different. You're more powerful."
I swallowed, my heart racing. "I don't want this power," I said, my voice breaking. "I didn't choose this."
The woman stepped closer, her expression softening. "None of us chose it," she said gently. "But we have to live with it. We have to survive."
I took a step back, shaking my head. "I'm not like you. I'm not like them. I don't want to be part of this nightmare."
She stared at me for a long moment, her gaze filled with something I couldn't quite understand. "You can fight it," she said finally. "But you can't do it alone."
I looked at her, confusion spreading across my face. "What do you mean?"
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she glanced around the street, her eyes scanning the area. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she said, "There are others. People like us. People who are trying to stop this, trying to fight back. They need someone like you."
I hesitated. The hunger was still there, gnawing at me, but I couldn't ignore what she was saying. Could there be others? Could there be a way to fight back against Alekhan and his dark influence?
And could I truly resist the darkness inside me?
The woman stepped closer, her eyes filled with determination. "You don't have to do this alone. Come with me. I'll show you where they are. They'll help you."
For a long moment, I considered her words. Could I trust her? Could I trust anyone in this broken world?
But then,