I woke up with my vision blurry. Everything felt dull. A sharp ache pressed at the sides of my head.
I was sitting on a wooden chair. The back dug into me. The seat was softer than I expected. Then the pain hit hard. A sudden burst shot from the left side of my head and ran through my whole body.
I raised my hand without thinking, clutching my temple. The chair fell as I collapsed to the floor, twisting in pain. My hand touched something wet and soft. Flesh? A wound? When I squeezed it, the pain burned hotter. I gasped and pulled my hand away. I curled up, rocking back and forth, trying to make it stop.
Minutes passed before the pain faded enough to breathe. Slowly, I pushed myself upright.
The room was small. Just enough space for one person. The chair lay on its side. A cracked mirror leaned against a desk. My reflection was blurry. Through a narrow window, a red light shone.
I turned. My breath caught.
A red moon hung in the sky.
My heart pounded. I looked down and saw a revolver near my feet. My revolver? That made no sense. I didn't own a gun.
Panic rose. Questions ran through my mind, too fast to sort. Where was I? Why did I have a gun?
Then I looked in the mirror.
I froze.
The face staring back was not mine.
Brown hair. Brown eyes. Taller, wider. Someone else's body. Wrapped around me like a mask.
I didn't recognize the person. I didn't recognize myself.
I panicked and ran. Out of the room, down the hall.
The whispers didn't follow. Another sound did. Faint at first. Then louder. It shook the torches.
A low, wet groan.
I ran faster, holding the revolver tight. The hall ended at a heavy wooden door. The wood was rotted and clawed. Red light spilled through the cracks.
I pushed it open.
The world outside hit me like a dream.
Buildings leaned like dead bodies. The air smelled of rot and ash. And in the street… something moved.
A mountain of stitched flesh. Hundreds of bodies fused together. Limbs bent wrong. Faces pressed against it, some screaming, some mumbling. It dragged itself across the ruins.
The ground shook.
My stomach turned. I stumbled back. The whispers returned. Like the creature was speaking in my head.
"Join us," it hissed.
I didn't wait. I ran.
The streets were full of rubble. My bare feet cut against broken stone. But I didn't slow down. Behind me, the groaning mass tore through walls.
A hand grabbed my wrist.
I spun, raising the revolver.
"Arthur?"
A woman stared at me. Her face was smudged with soot. Behind her were others with spears, crossbows, and torches. Survivors. Real people.
"You're alive," she whispered. "Arthur… you actually made it back."
Arthur.
The name hit me hard. I wanted to correct her. But the words would not come. Maybe I needed to be him to survive.
I nodded. "Yeah," I said.
They led me through the ruins, under half-collapsed walls. My heart pounded. My legs shook. But they didn't slow. Every sound could mean death.
Finally, we reached an old church. I collapsed against a broken pew.
The others looked tired but alive.
"It's really him," someone whispered. "Arthur's back."
I tried to calm my breathing. Arthur. Whoever he was, these people clung to him.
The woman crouched in front of me. "Where have you been?"
I hesitated. I didn't know who Arthur was or what happened. If I told the truth, they might not trust me.
"I… don't remember," I said. "Pain… darkness… the Crimson."
Her eyes narrowed. Then she nodded. "The Crimson takes memories. If you came back at all, you are lucky."
A boy stepped forward. "Arthur… did you see them? The Taken?"
I shook my head. "Only one."
He went pale. "Then it knows you're alive," he said.
The church felt colder. Everyone drew closer. Red light from the moon spilled through the broken roof.
I held the revolver tighter. Whoever Arthur was, I was him now.
When the others settled, Elara motioned me to a corner. The moonlight painted her face red.
We sat in silence. Then she asked, "Do you remember what happened, Arthur?"
I forced calm. "Fragments," I lied. "Fog. Pain. The Crimson."
"You vanished for six nights," she said. "No one returns from that. And yet here you are."
I smiled bitterly. "Surprised me, too."
Her hand twitched near her knife, then relaxed. "Listen. We're few now. Riven, Nara, Lorne, and Kallus. The last of us. If that thing out there sensed you…" She glanced at my revolver. "You better remember fast how to use that."
I looked at the gun. It felt like an answer I hadn't earned.
"I'll manage," I said.
Her eyes lingered. Then she nodded. "Rest, Arthur. Tomorrow, we move. The Crimson doesn't wait."
She left. I sat in cold moonlight, revolver in hand, a name that wasn't mine echoing in my head.
Arthur.
I had no choice but to become him.
The church creaked through the night. Sleep never came. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the faces in that mass of flesh, whispering, clawing, begging me to join.
When the others stirred, we left before the moon shifted. The ruins stretched endless. Dead stone, dead air, dead streets.
We walked in silence. Every step echoed too loud. Every shadow seemed to move. I stayed near the middle, gripping the revolver like a lifeline. My body moved like it had done this before, checking corners, scanning windows, ready to draw. Not mine, but Arthur's.
The others didn't question it. To them, I was who I had always been.
But I wasn't.
A groan rumbled through the streets. The air grew thick. The Crimson stirred.
The survivors froze. Spears raised. Torches tightened in fists. And I, I raised the revolver before I even knew I'd done it. The weapon leveled steady, unshaking, aimed at the sound.
The instinct wasn't mine. But it kept me alive.
The groaning faded into the ruins. The group exhaled as one.
Elara's gaze lingered on me. Not trust. Not suspicion. Something colder. "Arthur," she said softly. "Whatever the Crimson took… don't let it take more."
Her words followed me long after.
As we moved on, I realized the truth.
Whoever Arthur was, fighter, leader, survivor, these people needed him.And whoever I was before… didn't matter anymore.
The Crimson moon watched above, heavy and endless.
And beneath its light, I walked on.
As Arthur.