"The ground cracks open, the wall collapses, the army of the undead marches in, shaking the earth with their sheer number, bringing death and chaos across the land."
I slam my head against the bed frame as I wake up. When I come back to my senses, the only thing that cracks open is the egg my mother cooks for breakfast. As for the undead, my big brother in the mirror popping zits with his fingers could play the part.
"What are you looking at, freak?" He looks over his shoulder when he sees my reflection.
Our tiny house cannot accommodate separate rooms for each of us so we have to share. He doesn't like that.
Mom calls us for breakfast downstairs. Two eggs, a loaf of bread and goat milk. "Again??" Tom revolts. He doesn't like that either. He likes meat but meat is rare this season. The fattest cow, lamb, goat and bull had already made its way to the capital as tribute to the crown in exchange for protection from the threat beyond the wall. The yearly tribute was an overkill for a small farming village like ours but the citizens of Ganduana couldn't complain. It is a small price to pay especially now that the time for the culling is upon us.
No one knows what lies beyond the wall aside from the King's royal scouts, a group of elite soldiers known as the scabbards which included father. The last expedition beyond the wall happened when I was born. It consisted of rich merchants, politicians from the king's court, and the scabbards. Most of them died, my father included, and the few who made it back had lost their sanity. The expedition was a total fiasco, a miscalculated move born out of the king's greed to howl mystical riches from the dark lands beyond the wall. Rumor spread far and wide that the expedition suffered a fate beyond nightmare at the hands of the dark lord and his legion.
The king in his paranoia, conscripts all able men at arms leaving only children, women and elderly men to work in the fields.
When mom left after breakfast, I see Tom walks towards our parents' room. He fiddles the door knob with a makeshift key. Moments later, he goes out in full hunting gear, dad's crossbow and a sheath of arrows sling on his broad shoulders, a dagger rests snugly against his hip as he heads for the woods.
"Where are you going?" I ask him. "To the woods, genius." "But it's dangerous and forbidden." I warn. "Only if I get caught, you wouldn't snitch up on me, would you?" He stares at me menacingly. "How about the nightcrawlers?" "That's a myth, and even if that's true there's a wall between us." "Still, there are predators lurking in the woods." "Are you scared? Go home, and hide under your bed. Tonight, I'll be eating fresh deer meat from my hunt and make mom proud." "I am not scared." I tell him. "Good, then let's hunt some real food then."
The mighty wall stretches in front of us from the ground to the sky. Baba said it was built by the hands of the extinct race of giants bewitched by the old king's blood magic after the war of the races in the distant past. The war nearly wiped out all the other races, except the race of men hidden inside the wall beyond the reach of the dark king.
Our village is situated at the edge of the walls with only the forest separating us from the unknown. Many hunters and foragers have wandered far beyond the twilight zone where daylight permits safety in foraging and hunting and had been lost forever to the menacing woods that loom before us, a vast expanse of dark, twisted trees that stretch upwards like skeletal fingers clawing at the sky. These trees are ancient, their bark gnarled and rough, blackened as if scorched by some long-forgotten fire. Their branches intertwine above, creating a thick canopy that chokes out most of the light, casting the forest floor in a perpetual, eerie twilight.
The air is cold, biting at our skin with a sharp, unforgiving chill. A thick mist coils through the underbrush, clinging to the ground and obscuring our vision. This mist seems almost alive, swirling in ghostly patterns and amplifying the sense of unease that permeates the forest. Every breath we take is laced with the damp, earthy scent of decaying leaves and moss, mingled with a faint, metallic tang that we can't quite place.
As we venture deeper into the woods, the silence becomes oppressive. The usual sounds of the forest—birdsong, rustling leaves, the chatter of small animals—are conspicuously absent. Instead, there's an unsettling stillness, broken only by the occasional creak of a swaying branch or the distant, mournful howl of a wolf. Each step we take on the uneven, root-laden ground seems unnaturally loud, as if the forest itself is amplifying our presence, marking us as an intruder.
Tom is quite skilled with the crossbow even for a first-time hunter, he manages to kill a full-grown buck when his arrow swirls into the damp forest air piercing the beast's heart. It is a good kill, swift and clean. Instant death. He pulls his dagger and cuts clean meat out of the dead beast leaving the entrails behind. The rusty nauseating smell of blood engulfs my nose. After he collected the best part of the carcass, we head back to the village strolling with triumphant grin. Once smoked and salted, this meat can feed us for a week until we have to hunt again. I never thought hunting would be so easy, but we're not the only ones hunting in the woods, soon we'll find out we too are being hunted.
I only heard about nightcrawlers from baba in her bed-time stories. Most kids prefer fairy tales and stories of great adventures in the age of heroes. I prefer stories from the time before the wall was built, when all races lived in harmony until the dark king rose from the southern lands and brought forth his cold-blooded army of the dead with him to invade Ganduana. The dark king is a necromancer, an evil sorcerer who can summon the dead to do his bidding. His might was unheard of and not even the coalition of the five great races consisting of men, dwarves, elves, giants and mages was able to vanquish.
When all hope was lost, the gatekeeper, a zodiac prince master of the 12 elemental spirits was born from the race of men. Where the dark king's necromancer magic brings death, the zodiac prince brings life and hope. He rallied the forces of the five great races against the dark king and pushed his advances back. With victory almost at hand, the other four great races feared that the greedy nature of mortals would bring about much chaos as the dark king himself was born a mortal. Divided, the dark king used the opportunity to defeat the prince of the zodiac and sealed the 12 elemental spirits in the heavens.
When the last hope of the world was gone, the dark king and his dead army wreaked havoc once again and this time no one could stop him. He conquered the rest of the known world except Ganduana who was enclosed in a powerful magical barrier built by old king Roynar's blood magic in exchange of his life. What remained of the five great races have since then lived as prisoners inside the wall or scattered outside the dark lands, always at the mercy of the dark king, living in constant fear of the culling until the prince of the zodiac, as the prophecy foretold will be born again and reunite the five great races, or whatever is left of it.
We are lost and couldn't find our way back. Tom's skill with the crossbow is the only comfort I can find in the hopes of getting back to the village unscathed but even that seems unlikely lest we find a safe place to spend the night away from the prowling eyes of the wild beasts that could devour us to the bone. The prospect of dying without anyone knowing starts to grow on me. I can smell fear even in Tom's stoic face.
The canopy above swallows the moonlight, casting the forest floor in an almost impenetrable darkness. We try to find our way out but every direction looks the same, each tree a silent sentinel watching our growing panic. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth, mingled with something far more sinister: the acrid stench of decaying flesh.
Tom and I stop dead on our tracks as if our own instincts warn us of the danger that looms. A sudden rustling sound shatters the dead silence of the night. There, among the twisted trees, a pair of glowing red eyes materialize, glaring at us with a predatory intensity.
The creature steps forward into the weak shaft of moonlight that pierce the canopy, revealing itself. Its skin an unnatural pallor, almost translucent, stretched over a hunched and twisted frame, flesh riddled with festering wounds that never heal. The stench emanating from the creature was so overpowering it made our eyes water and our stomach churn.
"A nightcrawler!" I cried to Tom holding his hand as if my life depends on it.
The creature's back was grotesquely arched, giving it a nightmarish silhouette. Its limbs were long and emaciated, ending in gnarled hands with razor-sharp claws. It moves with a disturbing, jerky motion, like a puppet on broken strings, each step bringing it closer to where we stood. Overcame by fear, we couldn't move a limb.
A pair of eyes, dreadful red orbs, locks onto us, filled with a primordial hunger. As it opens its mouth, a guttural, rasping moan escapes, echoing through the forest and sending chills down my spine. Mouth, a grotesque maw of broken, jagged teeth, oozing a foul-smelling ichor.
Tom pulls me back, the first motion we ever make in what feels like an eternity but the forest seems to conspire against us, roots and underbrush tangling at our feet. The creature raises one skeletal hand, pointing a clawed finger at our direction, its scarlet eyes never wavering. The stench of rot intensifies, turning the atmosphere into a noxious cloud, making it hard to breathe.
Panic surges through my veins. We finally manage to turn, summoning the last ounce of our strength to run. The creature lets out a horrifying screech, a sound filled with rage and despair, as it lunges forward. We sprint through the trees screaming for help, the underbrush scratching our legs and the cold air burning our lungs.
The forest becomes a blur as we fled, the creature's unearthly cries echoing behind, mingling with the rustling leaves and the pounding of our hearts. Every corner seems to hide another pair of red eyes, every gust of wind carry the stench of death. We run blindly, driven by primal fear, desperate to escape the undead horror that hunts us.
My legs burn with the effort to keep moving, and I fall behind, the darkness pressing in from all directions. Ahead of me, Tom's figure is a desperate blur. I scream his name, begging for help, my voice cracking with fear and exhaustion. He glances back, his face a mask of helplessness, and all he can manage is a whispered, "sorry," as his shadow begins to fade, swallowed by the night, leaving me to die alone.
The creature looms closer, its presence an icy grip. I turn to face it, trembling, the air thickens with the stench of decay and malice. As it draws nearer, my mind reels, searching for an anchor amidst the terror. In chaos, I see mom, standing in our warm, cozy kitchen, her hands busy preparing dinner, the aroma of home-cooked food filling the air. She's waiting for my return that seems unlikely with each passing second.
The creature's face is now inches from mine, its eyes empty voids of blood red, and all I can think of is the love and warmth of home that I might never see again before I lose consciousness.