The city bled silence after the Hollowed's song.
We left the church behind, though its vibrations haunted us still. Karis staggered as we moved, her ears ringing blood. Harlan muttered to himself, hands trembling worse than ever, his pistol half-raised at every shadow. The boy clung to my sleeve, staring not at the ruins, but at the sky — as if expecting it to split open.
That sky… it was never blue anymore. Only pale, a smothered gray.
It was Karis who spotted the first Ashen.
---
The Encounter
We turned into an old marketplace, its stalls blackened, its air thick with soot. Among the broken stone and scattered ash, a figure crouched.
It was thin as bone, its skin flaked and cracked, glowing faintly as if embers burned beneath. Ash seeped from its pores like sweat. Its eyes were holes, hollow sockets where dust swirled.
It didn't move when we saw it. It only crouched, inhaling.
And then it exhaled.
A cloud of ash poured forth, rolling like smoke. The cloud spread across the market, filling the air, creeping toward us. My throat burned. Karis coughed violently, spitting blood into her hand. Harlan fired at the creature, but bullets only scattered sparks off its brittle skin.
The Ashen lifted its head and breathed deeper. The cloud thickened.
The boy screamed as his skin broke out in mottled burns where the dust touched. The ash wasn't just suffocating — it was alive, burrowing into pores, burning flesh from the inside.
---
Running Blind
"Run!" I shouted, pulling Karis along.
We plunged into the choking smoke, stumbling through the market stalls. My lungs seared. My eyes wept ash until I couldn't see. I wrapped my sleeve around the boy's mouth, but he still coughed violently, his small body convulsing.
Behind us, the Ashen hissed — not a roar, not a scream, just a long, hollow breath. More ash spilled, chasing us.
We burst into an alley, half-collapsing against the walls. Harlan coughed so hard he spat black phlegm. Karis leaned against me, her lips pale, chest rattling.
And the boy…
His veins glowed faintly.
Not with blood. But with fire.
---
The Burning
At first I thought it was a trick of the ash. But no — beneath his skin, faint streaks of red and orange pulsed, like molten veins.
He shivered, eyes wide. "It's in me."
I didn't know what to say. Karis pressed her trembling hands against him, trying to steady his breathing. But the glow spread, faint lines of fire racing along his arms, across his chest.
The Ashen's dust had infected him.
"Not him," I whispered. "Please, not him…"
Harlan stared, jaw clenched. His pistol shook as he raised it — not toward the Ashen, but toward the boy.
"No!" I shoved his hand away.
"He's gone," Harlan rasped. "You saw it — it's in his blood. He'll burn like them. Better to end it now before he becomes one of them."
The boy sobbed, clutching me. Karis screamed at Harlan, her voice ragged. "He's just a child! He's still fighting!"
The Ashen hiss echoed behind us, closer now. The market filled with smoke again.
We had no choice. We ran, dragging the boy between us, deeper into the ruins.
---
The Ash Nest
We stumbled into an abandoned subway station. Dust covered the steps, bones half-buried within. But worse — the tunnels glowed faintly red.
The Ashen had nested here.
Dozens of them crouched in the dark, their ember-veined bodies flickering in the shadows. Some inhaled slowly, clouds of ash building in their chests. Others exhaled in unison, filling the tunnels with glowing smoke.
It wasn't just an infestation. It was a hive.
And at its center, slumped upon a broken throne of stone and rust, was something larger.
An Ashen King.
Its body cracked and molten, ribcage split wide, fire spilling from within. It lifted its head as if sensing us. Its mouth opened, and the entire station shook with one single breath.
Ash poured forth like a tidal wave.
---
The Escape
We barely survived.
We didn't fight. We couldn't. Against the King, we were nothing but kindling.
We ran. Choking, burning, clutching the boy, dragging Karis and Harlan as ash seared our skin. Somehow, impossibly, we burst back into the ruined streets, hacking soot from our lungs.
The boy collapsed in my arms, glowing faintly, his skin fever-hot. Karis pressed her ear against his chest, shaking her head.
"He's still alive," she whispered. "But the ash… it's inside him."
And for the first time since the fall, I wondered if survival was cruelty.
---