The ruins gave way to a cluster of half-standing buildings – what might have been a village once. The structures were made of black stone, their roofs long collapsed. Ash had piled inside, forming grey dunes.
Hunter slowed. His breathing was labored. One of his ribs was broken – I could tell by the way he held his side, the way he winced with every step.
"We need shelter," I said.
"Find one."
I scanned the buildings. Most were too open, too exposed. The walls were cracked, the roofs gone. A strong wind would have knocked them over.
Then I saw it – a basement entrance, half-buried in ash. The door was metal, rusted but intact. It was set into the ground, angled like a storm shelter.
"There."
I helped him across the ash. He grunted with every step. His face was pale, beaded with sweat.
The door was heavy. I pulled. It didn't budge. I pulled harder, my muscles screaming. Metal groaned, and the door swung open, revealing a dark staircase descending into blackness.
"Ladies first," Hunter muttered.
I glared at him. Then I climbed down.
The stairs were stone, worn smooth by time. The darkness was absolute – not the darkness of a basement, but the darkness of a tomb. I held out my hand, feeling for walls.
My panel flickered, offering no light.
Then I hit the bottom.
The basement was small – maybe ten by ten. The ceiling was low, forcing me to stoop. And it was filled with corpses.
I stumbled back, hitting the wall. My eyes adjusted.
Bodies. At least a dozen. Men and women in white cloth, just like us. They lay in pools of dried blood, their faces frozen in terror. Some had been torn apart – limbs missing, chests hollowed. Others looked like they had simply… stopped. Eyes open. Mouths agape. No visible wounds.
Hunter stepped down behind me. He didn't flinch.
"Fresh," he said, kneeling beside a woman's body. "A day, maybe two."
"They were players?"
"Were." He stood. "Something got them."
I looked around. The walls were scratched – deep grooves, like claws. The floor was stained. The air was thick with the smell of rot.
There were no other exits. This was a tomb.
"We can't stay here," I whispered.
"Can't leave either." Hunter sat against the wall, wincing. "I need to rest. You need to stop shaking."
"I'm not shaking."
He looked at my hands.
I looked at my hands.
They were shaking.
I sat down across from him, my back against a wall of corpses. The smell was unbearable – sweet rot and copper and something else, something I didn't want to name. But outside, I could hear them. The creatures. Chittering. Calling.
"Ren…"
My name. In my sister's voice.
I closed my eyes.
Don't listen. Don't listen.
For Yuki.
---