The sky was ink-black when Li Wei opened his eyes.
No dreams. No whispers. Just a tightening knot in his gut. Something was wrong.
He slid silently out of bed, checked the window.
The village was awake.
Dozens of villagers in long robes stood around the chapel, holding torches. Silent. Motionless. Waiting.
No bell. No alarm. Just quiet dread.
"We have to go," Li Wei whispered.
Chen Yu was already up, crouched with his dagger drawn. "I told you they were building up to a cult parade."
Rui pulled on her boots, hands trembling. "They've been watching us all night."
Li Wei nodded. "Split. Move around back. Avoid the chapel and stick to the forest line. Meet at the west ridge."
Chen Yu smirked. "Copy that, boss. Time to ghost.
The night was heavy with smoke. Not thick — just enough to sting the eyes, to dull the senses.
Rui darted behind a stone wall, barely avoiding a group of robed figures who whispered prayers as they walked barefoot across burning coals. Their feet bled, but none of them screamed.
Chen Yu scaled a wooden fence and paused. His foot had landed in a shallow pit.
He looked down.
Bones.
Human. Charred. Layered.
He almost cursed aloud.
Li Wei moved like a shadow between cabins. His mind was calm — colder than it should've been. He'd seen massacres, cannibal dens, warlords. But this? This was devotion weaponized.
At the edge of the village, he saw something that made his breath catch.
The western exit — gone. Fences had been pulled up and replaced with iron bars welded to old solar panels, forming a makeshift cage wall. There were symbols burned into the metal.
He turned to run back, but fire lit up behind him.
A wall of torchlight.
The villagers stood shoulder to shoulder, humming in unison — not a hymn, but something darker. A vibration that crawled up the spine.
Chen Yu met Rui near the field of crosses. Her face was pale.
"They blocked the exit," she whispered. "I think they knew we'd try to run."
"Yup," Chen said. "This whole place is a stage, and we're the grand finale."
Li Wei joined them seconds later. He was bleeding from a shallow cut on his shoulder. "We're surrounded. The gates are closed."
As if on cue, the chapel doors creaked open.
Shepherd Callen stepped out, now wearing full ceremonial robes. In his hand was a staff wrapped in barbed wire and ash-stained cloth. The masked priest stood behind him, chanting in a language that didn't belong to any world Rui had ever studied.
"You were offered sanctuary," Callen called. His voice was louder now. Echoing.
"You refused confession."
"You rejected the Flame."
"You carry the Seed of Mutation."
He pointed at Chen Yu. "You laugh too much, but I see your glow."
He pointed at Rui. "You hide your origin, girl of smoke and labs."
He finally pointed at Li Wei. "And you… you walk with death itself."
"The Flame will purify you all.
As the villagers closed in, torches raised, Rui suddenly screamed — not from fear, but from pressure.
The air pulsed around her.
The ground shook slightly beneath her boots.
From her fingertips, thin veins of light flickered — not fire, not electricity — something else. Unstable. Alive.
Chen Yu grinned. "Now that's what I'm talking about."
The robed figures paused.
Then it was Chen's turn.
A wave of heat radiated from his back — like embers swirling beneath his skin. His veins glowed faint orange. His pupils dilated. His smile became unhinged.
"You people want a flame?" he said, stepping forward. "I'm feeling generous."
Li Wei said nothing.
His power hadn't awakened yet — not fully.
But he reached into his coat and pulled out a smoke grenade and three metal darts coated in graveyard fungus. Sometimes, horror didn't need powers. Just timing.
"Rui, cover."
Rui lifted her hands — unsteady, but growing. The air around her shimmered like heat mirage.
Chen Yu exhaled, and a burst of heat pulsed out, knocking the front line of villagers back.
The three of them ran — not toward the fence, but toward the chapel.
"Through them?" Rui yelled.
"They expect us to run," Li Wei said. "We kill the shepherd, the sheep scatter."
They burst through the doors.
The chapel was wrong.
No pews.
Only chains. Hooks. Burn pits. Ash-filled urns.
The altar was made of bone.
And hanging from the rafters — still alive — were past 'confessors.' Mutated. Tortured. Left as warnings or sacrifices. Their mouths had been sewn shut.
"Shepherd!" Chen Yu roared. "Your God's a no-show!"
But Callen didn't respond.
He stood in front of the altar, chanting faster now. The masked priest poured black oil over a symbol carved into the floor.
The fire ignited.
But this fire was not normal. It whispered.
And the whispers spoke back.