Morning Farewells
The early morning sun hung low, creating long shadows across the broken roads. Marko tightened the strap on his pack and adjusted his grip on his spear. His path was uncertain, but there was no turning back now.
"Take care out there, Marko," the eldest of the small group he'd stayed with said, resting a weathered hand on his shoulder. "The roads aren't what they used to be."
"I will," Marko replied quietly. In times like these, promises felt fragile—easily broken by a single wrong turn or a shadow moving too fast.
Half the day slipped away as he traveled on foot. Abandoned vehicles clogged the streets, some burned to husks, others left as though their owners had vanished mid-journey. The silence was heavy, broken only by the crunch of gravel under his boots and the far-off calls of birds that had somehow survived.
When monsters came, they came in twos and threes—small scavenger types, weak but relentless. Marko's spear flared with heat each time he struck, flames licking along the steel tip before piercing their tough hides. With each battle, the burning glow of his weapon brightened, but so did the ache in his shoulders and the weight in his chest.
By the time San Nicolas appeared on the horizon, sweat plastered his shirt to his back, and a fine layer of dust clung to his skin. But as the wind shifted, a sharp scent cut through the air—smoke, and something else. Fear.
The Battle at the Gate
When the low, sharp crack of gunfire—or something like it—cut through the air ahead. Marko's heart jumped, and he ran toward the noise.,
San Nicolas was not the bustling town he thought it was. Instead, chaos had taken hold. Flames licked the sides of collapsed buildings, and smoke curled into the sky. At the town's center, a shimmering rift pulsed with eerie light—a Gate, opening like a wound in reality.
From it poured creatures of nightmare—twisted, feral beasts with glowing eyes and jagged claws. Survivors scrambled for cover, some fighting desperately with whatever weapons they had.
Without hesitation, Marko plunged into the fray. He fought alongside the strangers, holding the line as best he could. Marko's eyes locked onto the snarling beast charging at him.
His grip tightened around the spear's shaft as heat flared beneath his skin. Without thinking, a sudden burst of flame raced along the spear's tip.
The spear jabbed forward in a swift, precise strike, the fiery point piercing the monster's thick hide. The beast yelped, its many eyes widening in pain as the fire bit deep.
Marko felt the power ripple through his arm—an instinctive surge, a spark from deep within that ignited just when he needed it most.
But in the chaos, he missed the sound behind him—scrabbling claws, tearing at broken pavement.
A shadow fell over him.
The monster leapt. Without time to turn fully, an insectoid monster lunged at his back, jaws snapping.
Then—thwip. A frost-tipped arrow hissed through the air, striking the creature's open mouth. Ice spread quickly, freezing the beast mid-pounce. It crashed to the ground in shards of ice and shattered stone.
Marko turned toward the source.
A Familiar Archer
She stood at the far end of the street, bow raised, the string still trembling from the shot. Her hair was tied back, her breath steady despite the chaos. Frost clung faintly to her fingertips, a shimmering mist curling from them like winter's breath.
"Ara…?" Marko's voice caught for a moment. The years fell away in an instant—memories of narrow roads in Solsona, afternoons playing near the riverbank, and the day she left for Paoay.
Her lips quirked in a quick smile. "It's been a while, Marko."
Before he could say more, a new wave of monsters poured through the Gate.
Without a word, Ara loosed arrow after arrow, each one coating enemies in frost, slowing their movements. Marko moved beside her, spear blazing, finishing what she began. The survivors around them rallied, pushing the horde back, inch by bloody inch.
The battle stretched on, hours melting away in a blur of sweat, fear, and fire. The roar of monsters and crackle of flame filled the air, mixing with Ara's steady breath and the sharp twang of her bowstring.
Just when Marko feared they might be overwhelmed, the Gate pulsed violently, brighter and brighter until a column of light shot upward. The creatures faltered, their cries twisting into panicked wails as the glowing rift pulled them backward.
The gate snapped shut, leaving only silence and smoke.
Silent Reunion
The battle had quieted; the last echoes of the monsters' snarls faded into the smoky air, leaving only the crackle of small fires and the faint hiss of melting ice.
Marko leaned on his spear, his breath ragged, sweat tracing lines through the grime on his face. Nearby, Ara stood with her hands at her sides, her icy breath curling in the heat of the ruined street.
For a moment, they simply stared at each other—two familiar faces reshaped by chaos.
"You've changed," Ara said softly, her gaze lingering on the soot and sweat marking his face.
"So have you," Marko replied, noting the frost clinging to her gloves. "You've awakened."
She nodded. "The day after the Gates opened… everything collapsed. I thought I was just a normal girl. Then the monsters came, and the ice—" She glanced at her hands. "It burst out of me, like it had been waiting all along. I didn't have time to think. I just fought."
Marko's grip on his spear tightened. He knew the weight of sudden power—it rarely felt like a gift at first, more like a burden you couldn't set down.
"I thought you were in Paoay," he said.
"I was visiting a cousin in San Nicolas," she replied quietly. "I was only supposed to stay one night. Then the sky tore open. Monsters flooded the streets. I thought I'd die in the plaza—until it happened. Ice erupted from my hands, and somehow… I survived."
Her gaze shifted to him, curious. "And you? I thought you were in Solsona. Why are you here?"
Marko's gaze dropped to the cracked pavement. "I was. Until Lolo Dario…" His throat tightened. "When the monsters came, he didn't make it. Before he…" He swallowed. "His last words told me to head south. To find my roots." Ara stepped closer, her expression softening. "I'm sorry, Marko. I know how much he meant to you."
"But your attack earlier, did you awaken too? How did it happen?" Ara asked, her eyes drifting to the faint glimmer beneath his shirt.
Marko touched the amulet hanging there, a gift from Lolo Dario. "This?" he said quietly. "I didn't ask for it. But when the monsters attacked, the fire inside me… it awakened. It felt as if it had been waiting for the right moment—and perhaps for me. The amulet… I think it helped guide me, showing me when and how to use it."
Ara tilted her head, curiosity softening her expression. "Guiding you? Like it knows what to do?"
He nodded, brushing a hand over the worn surface. "Maybe. Lolo Dario gave it to me just before… everything changed. I don't fully understand it yet, but it feels like a piece of him is still here, helping me find my path."
He let out a slow breath, the weight of the moment settling in. For a heartbeat, the ruins around them faded, and memories drifted back—days from long ago, when they were just kids running barefoot along the riverbanks, daring each other to jump from the old wooden bridge, laughing until the sun went down.
Marko blinked hard, forcing himself back to the present. "I didn't think I'd see you again," he admitted.
A faint smile tugged at Ara's lips. "Then maybe fate's on our side."
"But even as they shared a brief moment of relief, a distant pulse of light from the horizon reminded them that the fight was far from over."