"Do you hear it? The silent screams are buried beneath the forest floor."
— A Mad Pilgrim
After that, the orphans continued tossing carcasses at us.
Some were already dead, their bloated bodies bursting apart the moment they struck our barriers. Others were still twitching weakly, dragging shattered limbs through the dirt as if their bodies refused to understand they had already died.
The corpses bounced off the barriers or collapsed into heaps of rot upon impact.
Those still alive were quickly put down as we continued moving.
The orphans watched all of it with delight.
They perched upon branches, crouched between roots, or hung upside down from the trees like malformed insects. Some clapped whenever a carcass burst open. Others pointed at us while whispering to one another behind their masks.
Occasionally, one would leap at us as though unable to contain itself any longer, only to be incinerated moments later.
Its death merely caused the others to laugh harder.
We continued onwards beneath the moonlight, following the withering path carved open by the dungeon itself.
As time passed, the number of carcasses increased.
Soon it became difficult to walk without stepping over mangled bodies.
The smell worsened.
Rot. Wet fur. Blood. Open organs baking beneath stale air.
And worse still, some of the corpses were moving.
Parasites slithered beneath exposed flesh like pale worms stitched beneath skin, forcing dead animals to jerk upright and stagger toward us despite their missing jaws and shattered bones.
Our advance slowed greatly.
The barriers constantly rippled from impacts as more creatures hurled themselves against them.
Some of the orphans joined the attack, but strangely enough, many seemed more interested in feeding upon the corpses than fighting us. They tore chunks of meat free with root-like fingers and shoved them beneath their masks while staring directly at us.
The wet chewing sounds followed us through the forest.
Eventually, the trees began thinning.
We emerged into a massive open field where moonlight poured endlessly from above. It was so bright that, for a moment, it resembled daylight.
The orphans stopped at the edge of the field.
None of them crossed into it.
Instead, they stood clustered together beneath the trees, laughing softly while watching us.
At first, we did not know where to go.
Then Miranda spotted a glowing monument far in the distance.
"We move there," she whispered.
The moment we stepped into the field, the wind greeted us.
Actual wind.
After the suffocating stillness of the forest, the sensation should have felt comforting.
Instead, disgust crawled through me.
The wind brushed against my skin too softly. Too warmly.
It felt intimate.
I looked toward the others and realised they felt it too.
Bo's shoulders had tightened.
Belinda's smile had dimmed.
Even Miranda grimaced faintly.
We continued toward the monument uninterrupted.
The further we walked, the stronger the scent became.
Fresh grass.
Morning dew.
Flowers blooming after rainfall.
The smell was beautiful.
And yet every breath made me feel strangely irritated… strangely possessive.
As though something precious were being taken from me.
We eventually reached the monument and used the opportunity to rest while remaining alert.
The structure resembled a cracked pillar wrapped in pale roots. Soft white light seeped from the fractures within it, illuminating the surrounding grass.
Bo sat quietly while Belinda leaned against him, whispering soft reassurances.
Miranda stood watch nearby.
As for me…
I felt wrong.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Peaceful.
The realisation unsettled me immediately.
This dungeon felt familiar.
No… worse than familiar.
Comforting.
I hated my prison.
I hated the darkness I was trapped within.
I hated the people who left me there to rot.
So why did this place feel closer to home than anything else?
The wind blew again.
The scent thickened.
This time I sensed it clearly.
Divinity.
Faint traces of it lingered within the fragrance itself.
I immediately warned the others.
Belinda and Bo barely reacted.
They were staring into each other's eyes with disturbing tenderness, their expressions soft and absent-minded.
Miranda seemed to understand immediately.
She marched over and forcibly separated them.
Both protested weakly.
A sharp strike to the backs of their heads quickly fixed that.
"We move. "Now" Miranda ordered.
As we resumed walking, the scent grew stronger.
Breathing became difficult.
Every inhale filled my chest with sweetness until it bordered on nausea.
We used wind spells repeatedly to disperse the scent, but it felt useless.
The fragrance moved with the wind itself.
It clung to us.
Followed us.
Slipped into our lungs no matter what we did.
By the time we reached the second monument, all of us were struggling to breathe properly.
The moment we entered its radius, the scent weakened abruptly.
The stale dungeon air returned.
I had never been so relieved to smell rot.
We rested only briefly.
Then the fog appeared.
It rolled across the field silently, swallowing the world around us in moments.
Visibility vanished almost entirely.
Within the fog, shapes moved.
Fast.
Thin silhouettes darted through the white haze before disappearing again.
No footsteps.
No breathing.
No sound whatsoever.
Belinda and I immediately reinforced the barriers while Miranda and Bo prepared themselves.
Before we could move, something flew out from the fog.
A human head.
It landed near us with a wet crack.
The face was half-eaten. One eye dangled loose from its socket while chunks of flesh were missing from its cheeks.
Then the mouth opened.
A long jagged tongue slithered outward like a starving worm.
Before it could move further, Miranda crushed it beneath her boot.
More heads came flying from the fog.
They struck the barriers and slid downward slowly, leaving trails of blood that hissed faintly against the protective spells.
Then birds began slamming into the barriers.
Dead birds.
Their brittle bodies exploded upon impact, coating the shields in blood and feathers.
The barriers weakened slightly each time.
Then the creatures emerged.
Shrivelled humanoid figures dressed in torn rags sprinted through the fog at horrifying speeds. Their limbs bent incorrectly as they ran, producing loud snapping sounds with each movement.
Most died instantly after colliding with the barriers.
Still they kept coming.
We initially used fire spells against them before realising how fragile they truly were.
Their danger lay entirely in their speed.
So we ran.
The monument released a small floating orb of pale light that drifted ahead of us through the fog.
We followed it closely.
The sounds around us grew worse.
Bodies smashing against barriers.
Flesh bursting.
Bones snapping.
Wet crawling sounds beneath the soil.
And all throughout it—
Whispering.
Not from the monsters.
From the fog itself.
After nearly ten minutes of movement, hands began bursting from the ground.
Pale human hands clawed desperately at our legs and ankles, trying to drag us down.
At first they were only annoying.
Then Bo tripped over one.
The hand wrapped around his ankle with enough force to bruise through enchanted armour before Miranda tore it apart.
After that, we slowed our pace.
The fog itself carried the same corrosive effect as the scent, though weaker.
Thankfully, the closer we remained to the guiding light, the less severe the effects became.
After another agonising stretch of movement, the orb abruptly stopped.
The fog slowly parted.
We found ourselves standing at the edge of a cliff.
Below us flowed a river made entirely of blood and corpses.
Bodies drifted endlessly through the crimson current.
Some were human.
Some were not.
Many still moved.
Then we heard the singing.
A soft lullaby echoed upward from below.
A woman emerged slowly from the river.
Her back faced us as she bathed in the blood.
We immediately raised our weapons.
She ignored us completely.
The lullaby continued.
Then she turned.
Her nose was gone.
Her mouth had been sewn shut with black thread.
Yet somehow…
The singing continued.
She was completely naked.
Blood and strips of loose flesh slid slowly down her body before vanishing back into the river beneath her feet.
The lullaby never stopped.
Then the river moved.
Not naturally.
The corpses began crawling toward the shore.
One after another, bodies dragged themselves free from the blood and stood motionless on the banks.
Then they started running.
They charged toward narrow paths leading upward toward the cliff.
Toward us.
And all the while, the woman continued singing through her stitched mouth.
SECOND TRIAL ENEMY DETECTED: WIDOW OF THE LAKE
MISSION: SURVIVE — 0/20 MINUTES