The dunes hissed as they swallowed his steps.
Kael moved cautiously, keeping the makeshift bone-dagger low, his shoulders hunched against the still-falling ash. Every time he glanced back, his footprints were gone—erased not by wind, but by something else. The sand seemed to fold in on itself, resetting.
But then he saw it.
A trail.
Another trail.
Not his.
Footprints. Shallow but firm. Too wide apart to be crawling. Too deep to be windblown. They weaved erratically between ridges of scorched black rock, as if the thing that left them didn't know how to walk properly.
Kael crouched beside one and touched the rim.
Still warm.
He looked up.
The sky scar still loomed behind him, faint now in the distance—just a pulsing spiral above a bruised horizon. But it cast no shadows. Whatever had left these prints had no shadow.
Kael licked dry lips and turned downslope, flanking wide.
He passed a small rock outcrop and paused, breathing shallow. Something was out there—watching. He didn't hear it. He felt it.
His instincts, dulled by a life of urban decay and video screens, flared like an old switchblade suddenly remembering how to cut.
Don't run, he told himself. Don't speak. Don't panic.
The footsteps ahead stopped. The prints ended.
Kael scanned the ridge. Nothing.
Then a whisper passed through the air—like a sigh made of glass.
Kael spun, heart hammering, as a tall, skeletal shape crested the dune behind him.
It didn't breathe. It didn't blink.
It just waited.
The creature stood at the ridge's edge, outlined by a dim sky like some forgotten statue dug from a mass grave. Its body was long and angular, legs bent at a wrong angle, the flesh dry and half-charred. There were bones visible in the arms—bare ribs in the chest. One eye socket glowed faintly orange, like an ember trapped behind glass.
It had no face. Only teeth. Long, thin, serrated things set too wide apart.
In one of its hands, it held a length of rusted chain that dragged behind it in the ash, links clinking softly like wind chimes in a dead house.
It didn't move. Didn't breathe. It just tilted its head to the side like a curious dog, watching him.
Kael gripped his bone shard tighter.
The thing made no sound.
Then it stepped forward.
Once.
Twice.
Kael backed away slowly, breath caught in his throat. He glanced to the left, then the right—no cover. Just sand and broken rock.
The third step was faster.
Kael turned and ran.
The chain shrieked behind him—metal on metal, dragging through ash. He didn't look back.
His feet slipped, his ribs burned, but he sprinted down the slope, half-leaping over a jut of obsidian. The creature didn't growl. It didn't howl.
It just moved. Like it didn't need a voice to kill.
Kael ducked behind a slant of rock, crouched, panting.
Then he heard it.
The chain had stopped moving.
It was already waiting on the other side.
Kael froze behind the rock, heart pounding like a trapped bird.
The ash swirled softly around him, soundless, yet he felt it—the weight of the thing's presence, just beyond the stone. The absence of sound was worse than any scream.
He clenched the shard in his hand until it bit into his palm. He had no armor. No spell. No status screen to optimize a build. Just instinct, fear, and pain.
Then, slowly, he rose.
The creature waited, half-shadowed, spine bent like a snapped tree. The rusted chain looped across its body now, hanging loose from its throat. Its eye-socket glowed brighter.
Kael didn't wait.
He lunged—more stumble than strike—and drove the sharpened bone into its side.
The shard hit flesh. Sank deep.
The creature let out a sound—not a scream, but a hiss of pressure, like steam forced through bone. It staggered.
Kael ripped the shard free and stabbed again.
Once.
Twice.
It dropped the chain.
And then it fell.
Not gracefully. Not like a vanquished beast. It simply collapsed inward, as if the bones gave out all at once.
Kael staggered back, breathing hard, blood on his hands.
Then it hit.
Not physically. Not from the outside.
From within.
A wave of memory surged into him through his fingers still clenching the shard. Visions, feelings—terror, flame, a name shouted in a language Kael didn't know. The creature had been human. Once. It had died screaming.
And now that scream lived in him.
Kael collapsed to his knees, fingers twitching.
The images weren't fading. They kept looping—flashes of red sand, chains, a firelit corridor, someone whispering "Mira… Mira…" again and again.
The voice was full of guilt. The body had burned. The person—whoever they'd been—died in agony.
Kael gasped, trying to sever the connection, but the memory clung to his spine like a parasite.
And then, just as suddenly, it stilled.
In its place, something new settled into his muscles—unbidden, unearned. A reflex.
He could feel it in his grip.
He twisted his wrist without thinking—and the bone shard flicked backward into a reverse grip, fluid, natural, like he'd trained for years. His stance adjusted. His breathing slowed.
New Memory Acquired: Chain-Killer's Last Stance
[Passive Skill Engraved]
A strange satisfaction burned low in his chest. Not pride. Not joy.
Something darker.
Kael pushed himself up slowly, eyes on the corpse. Or what remained of it.
Already, the body was crumbling. Not into ash, but into bone. Clean. Empty.
The chain it carried was gone.
Only the memory remained.
Kael turned his hand palm-up. The shard felt… lighter now. Aligned.
That was when the hum returned.
Sequence Detected.
Unauthorized Consumption Confirmed.
Vessel has deviated.
Vessel…
A pause.
…improvised.
Kael looked up.
The wind was rising again. So was the ash.
He wasn't alone.
Not anymore.