Who are these "The Intruders"? A question no one truly wants an answer to… yet one that each will discover, on their own skin.
Adam remained in front of the map spread across the table, where six black pawns marked the positions of the allies. He ran his finger over the surface of the parchment, feeling under his fingertip the traces of dried blood outlining the borders of the Exile. "Now we wait," he murmured. On the old map, the pawn from Sector 1 began to tremble.
When midnight descended over the valley, the sky darkened like before a cursed storm. A cold shiver ran through the walls. And then… the slaughter began. All sectors were struck at once, as if evil itself had stretched its hand over the entire land. Screams, metal striking metal, blood on stones. The losses among the soldiers were dreadful, yet no one stopped. The sector chiefs fought desperately, not only to win, but to stop something far darker than death.
The heaviest losses were in Sector 1, where Sister Lia was in command.
When the gong resounded, announcing midnight, the guard led by Lia moved out. Their steps echoed on the damp earth as they pushed deeper and deeper into the Valley of Death. A heavy smell of smoke drifted among the trees, choking the air.
— "Seems to be a fire nearby…" murmured Lia, glancing toward her guard. "Do any of you know the place?"
— "I know it… a little. I often wandered through the forest, to check if everything was in order. At its edge, near the border, there's an abandoned village," answered her second.
Lia looked at him for a few moments, then tied her red hair into a ponytail — a simple motion, like the gesture of a warrior before battle.
— "Good. Lead us there. It would be to our disadvantage if a large fire broke out now, right in the forest…"
The closer they got to the village, the heavier the smell of smoke became, suffocating. But what appeared before them was beyond imagination. A huge fire devoured the houses. The flames rose high, their heat burning their faces even from a distance. They burned… but not the wood the homes were made of.
In the air floated a choking stench of burned flesh, which almost brought Lia and her guards to their knees. A terrifying thought flashed through the Sister's mind, like a nightmare: if the wood does not burn, then… what burns?
The answer was horrifying: the exiled, trapped inside the houses, burned alive. But who could do such a thing?
They only made sure the fire could not spread toward the forest. The flames were left to continue, devouring everything, until there was nothing left.
On the road, the silhouette of a woman could be seen near a massive rock, hidden so deep in shadow that not even the moonlight dared touch her. Lia stepped into the middle of the road, approaching slowly, step by step. In the pale light she saw that the woman was kneeling, clutching a small figure to her chest… a child, by its shape.
The woman's eyes were red, swollen from crying, and looked at her with raw despair. Then, suddenly, she stood. One step, then another, until she hurled herself toward the Sister.
From her throat burst a heart-wrenching scream, like the echo of death:
— "Run away!… Are you one of them?!"
At that scream, the flame of the lantern flickered, shaken and frightened. The small silhouette, almost alive, stood still, with its back to her, as if it didn't want to be seen. The hair clung to its nape, so wet it looked as if a bucket of water had been poured over it, and on its neck a dark drop slid slowly, as if unwilling to fall. The child's right hand writhed spasmodically, the fingers twisting like spiders charred by heat, suffocating in the air. Then the head began to turn, slowly, far too slowly, while a wet creak filled the road with that sinister sound. When its hollow eyes fixed on her, the flame of the lamp went out as if blown. And then the slaughter began.
The lamp's flame extinguished abruptly, leaving only the red glow of the fire flickering on the charred walls. In the dense darkness, the child remained motionless, with its empty eyes — two black holes that seemed to absorb every ray of light.
The woman who had held it began to tremble. Her lips twitched, trying to form a word, but she never had the chance.
The child's fingers drove into her throat like steel claws. Blood burst in thick sprays, splattering the ground and the small monster's face. The woman collapsed, her eyes left wide open, frozen in that final moment of horror.
Lia and her guard dropped to their knees in fighting stance, but none managed to strike first.
The child now moved with impossible speed. One guard raised his spear, but his hand was cut off with a single motion — the child's thin fingers suddenly elongating into sharp blades, slicing flesh and bone like butter. The man screamed, but the sound was cut short when a small wet hand pierced his neck and ripped his trachea out with a damp crack.
Another began to flee. The child leapt like a spider, landing on his back. It sank its teeth into the back of the guard's neck — not like a wolf, but like a serpent, injecting something black and thick into the open wound. The man convulsed, his skin blackening on the spot, and his eyes burst, filling with a viscous fluid.
Lia drew her sword, murmuring a sacred prayer. The blade began to glow with a pale blue light, but the child laughed. A scraping laugh, like metal against stone.
— "You are not ready for us," it whispered, with a voice that could not belong to a child. It was a mixture of hundreds of voices — men, women, children, all twisted into a demonic hiss. And then, the ground beneath them began to move.
From the shadows of the burned houses, other silhouettes crawled out — children with charred skin, the same hollow eyes, the same long, sharp hands. They all laughed now, the same broken laugh. Lia understood too late. It was not a child. And now, they were all coming into the light.
Lia tightened her grip on the blessed sword as the shadows closed in around her. Her guard lay shredded on the ground, while the children-monsters now moved in a sinister dance, their black eyes and gaping mouths stretched into a laughter without sound.
— "Your God will not save you," whispered the first child, the one the woman had held. "We have waited for you so long…"
Lia drew in a deep breath and spoke her final prayer, as her sword began to pulse with a greenish light.
— "I will not let the darkness win!"
The first child leapt toward her.
Lia cut through him with a clean motion, splitting his body in two — but instead of blood, a black thick liquid spilled onto the ground. The two halves writhed, then began to reunite, the dark flesh stitching itself back together.
— "You cannot kill something… that never lived," another child laughed, moving closer.
Lia stepped back, feeling the ground burn beneath her feet. The burned houses around seemed to breathe, charred flesh cracking under an invisible force.
And then, she heard a sound. A song.
The children froze suddenly, their heads turning in mechanical unison toward the edge of the forest. From the darkness, a tall, thin silhouette emerged, wearing a silver mask, with two narrow slits.
— "It is time to leave, holy woman," said the stranger, with a voice that seemed to come from the depths. "He wants you alive… for now."
Lia raised her sword, the cold metal catching sparks under the pale moonlight.
— "Who are you?!" — her voice rang harshly, cutting the silence of the night.
From the shadows, the tall figure stepped forward. His mask gleamed silver, as if forged from the very light of the moon.
— "Legionnaire N…" his deep voice resounded, "codename: The Silver Legion."
He stopped a few steps away, his words sinking into the heavy air like a sentence:
— "We have come to free the Exile."
A moment of silence, then the mask tilted slightly, and his voice grew colder:
— "And you… are merely the first piece to fall."
Before Lia could react, the masked hand stretched out, and a wave of cold engulfed her. She felt her body freeze, her muscles stiffening. The sword slipped from her hand, and the ground rose to strike her.
The last thing she saw was the child-monster beside her, its long sharp fingers trailing across her body.
— "You will be beautiful when we remake you as one of us," it whispered.
Then, darkness swallowed her.
In the castle, the Sister's pawn on the map suddenly blackened, as if smeared with tar, and fell. Adam flinched.
"Sector 1 has fallen," he muttered, turning toward the other end of the map, where David's pawn began to gleam brightly, like a warning signal.