As the trio marches, the weight of their purpose settles upon them like a shroud. Ahead lies the city of—
"Amana," Rhys confirms, her voice steady. "We should reach it by dawn."
**
[In Arabic, the term "Amana" conveys the values of trust, honesty, and loyalty. Holding an Amana means being entrusted with a significant responsibility toward something or someone.]
**
The road stretches out before us, a winding path through the heart of the forest. Ancient trees, their twisted branches reaching skyward, create a natural cathedral overhead. Despite the density of the trunks, the forest is oddly transparent; between the trees, wide-open spaces reveal a second layer of greenery beyond. It's as if we are walking through a forest within a forest, each step taking us deeper into the verdant maze. Shadows flicker and dance, the play of moonlight filtering through the canopy, casting an ethereal glow on the path ahead. The air is thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, a reminder of nature's raw, untamed beauty.
We had walked a considerable distance. At first, they handed me a long jacket to protect against the chill, covering the black sweater, black pants, and simple shoes I was wearing. Then, Luke offered me his shoulder to lean on, but to my surprise, I soon regained my strength and began walking unaided. We took two breaks to catch our breath, during which they gave me food and something to drink. The drink was weird yet tasty. Since then, we have continued without rest, driven by a sense of urgency.
As my thoughts clear, a question gnaws at my mind.
"Powers?"
Seeker's curiosity burns brighter than the moon.
"I've been wondering," Seeker begins, "about powers—"
"Took you long enough," Rhys chuckles, covering her smile with her hand. "You want a demonstration?"
Seeker nods eagerly. Rhys's eyes sparkle with a mix of amusement and anticipation. She extends her hand, and flames begin to dance from her fingertips, casting a warm, flickering light in the dim surroundings. The air around them seems to crackle with energy, and Seeker's eyes widen in awe.
A fire flickers into existence!
"Watch closely," Rhys whispers, her voice a fragile thread. The flames intensify, weaving intricate patterns. Reality bends, yielding to her will. Heat radiates from her hand.
"These powers," she says, her eyes reflecting the flickering flames, "are tied to our very core—an essence capable of bringing about unimaginable destruction… or saving a soul." She pauses, letting her words sink in before locking her gaze onto Seeker's eyes.
Seeker watches in awe, then murmurs as he spaces out, "Is this madness or magic? I can feel the heat—it's both fascinating and terrifying." His thoughts drift, and he continues, almost to himself, "But wait, Fia's glowing hand... Was it a power too? Or something else entirely?"
"Hey, don't space out!" Rhys chides, extinguishing the flame.
"Huh.." Seeker snaps back to the present, "oh, sorry about that, this just doesn't—"
"Feel real?" Luke interjects.
"Yeah.." Seeker stammers. He looks at his hands as if expecting them to change, the reality of what he's witnessed slowly sinking in. The air feels charged with possibilities he can barely comprehend.
Seeker takes a deep breath, trying to steady his racing thoughts. "When did people figure all of this out? When did it happen—the shock wave, I mean?"
Rhys glances at Luke, a brief moment of confusion and shock passing between them. Luke speaks up, his voice somber. "The shock wave happened ten years ago."
As the words sank in, a flicker of confusion crossed Seeker's face, eyebrows knitting together in disbelief. He blinked slowly, as if trying to process the impossible. Then, like a wave washing over, the reality of the news seeped into his consciousness. Color drained from his cheeks, leaving him pale and ghostly, as if the very life had been sucked out. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came; he was frozen in place, as if the world around him had come to a standstill. His breathing grew shallow, each inhale a struggle as the weight of the news pressed down on his chest. Time seemed to stretch, and in that moment of stark silence, everything else faded away—until all that remained was the gravity of what he had just heard, leaving him standing still, a statue of shock amidst the chaos of the moment.
Seeker's thoughts raced. "What..." The word stumbled out, barely coherent. His mind raced with questions:
"Have I really been out for ten years? No, that can't be right… Fia said they found me injured and unconscious. What was I doing? Was I in an accident? Was I in a fight? Who did I fight? Did they use powers? Did I use powers? Do I have powers?? Did I win?"
What if I did something terrible? Oh God... Did I hurt someone? Did I kill someone? Did I lose? Did they erase my memories? Did I hit my head? This can't be true, right? I must be dreaming... Can someone feel pain in a dream? No... this is real life—a life I have no memories of whatsoever..
Ten years... ten years??? Who am I and where was I? Oh, for fuck's sake, keep it together! But wait… Do I have a family? Mom?.. Dad?.. What year is it? What day is it? Do I have friends or loved ones? What are my interests or hobbies? Do I have a home? What do I look like? Is there something I should be doing right now? What is my place in all of this?..
HOLD IT TOGETHER.. KEEP IT TOGETHER!.. HOLD IT TOGETHER.. KEEP IT TOGETHER!.. WHAT IS MY NAME!... WHAT IS MY...
Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced through Seeker's head, as if his own thoughts were tearing at the edges of his consciousness. He winced, pressing a hand to his temple, trying to steady himself against the overwhelming rush of confusion and fear. The pain was real—a stark reminder that this was indeed no dream, but a reality he had to face.
Rhys and Luke both saw his distress and hurried to help him. Rhys gently placed a hand on Seeker's shoulder, her voice soft with concern. "Hey, take it easy. Breathe. We're here with you."
Seeker looked at them, a mixture of gratitude and confusion in his eyes. "I... I just don't understand any of this," he admitted, his voice trembling.
Rhys squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "It's okay. We'll take it one step at a time. Right now, let's focus on getting to Amana. You'll be safe there, and we can start piecing together what happened."
Seeker took a shaky breath, trying to steady himself. "Okay...," he said quietly. "Maybe... maybe someone there can help me remember, in the city." His voice trembled. "Maybe... maybe with some kind of power..."
Rhys ran her fingers through her hair, letting out a deep sigh, her tone laced with sadness. "Well... yes and no," she replied, her voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. "Amana isn't a lively city, just so you know. It's mostly old people... people who never desired powers to begin with. They've seen too much. They just want peace, a quiet life away from all the chaos, away from all the powers they call a curse."
Rhys looked thoughtful. "They might not use powers, but they know things. They've lived through a lot. Maybe they can help you." She offered a reassuring smile. "You just need to be honest with them and see how they will surprise you."
"Uhh... And one more thing, just so you know." Rhys paused, her expression turning somber. She sighed deeply. "About one in a million people... are still alive, I'd say."
**
Before the shock wave, there were billions. Now, just a fraction remains.
The earth is scarred, and so are its people.
**
Seeker felt his heart pounding in his chest, and his breath caught as the weight of her words settled over him. His face twisted in shock, eyes filled with sorrow as he struggled to grasp the harsh reality before him. The truth was a heavy burden, pressing down on him and leaving him reeling.
Luke's words cuts through the night. "All because of the Anathema."
"Anathema?" The word caught Seeker by surprise, clinging to his mind. He turned to Luke, confusion plain on his face. "Fia mentioned it. What is it?"
Luke's gaze pierces. "Anathema," he began, "once human... now twisted,"
***
In the shadowed remnants of our world, there exists a delicate dance unfolds between malevolence and salvation. The remnants of humanity cling to survival, their numbers dwindling as Anathema—those beings of malevolence—encroach upon our reality. These creatures, once human but now twisted by dark forces, hunger for chaos. Their eyes, once filled with warmth and salvation, now blaze with an insatiable thirst for destruction. That being said, they come in many forms, each unique and distinct. No two are alike, with their shapes and powers as varied as the circumstances that create them. This endless diversity only adds to the chaos they bring, ensuring that every encounter is a singular and terrifying ordeal. And us humans are vessels, hosts who harbor powers; these powers wait for the vessels to break, and when the vessels break, an Anathema occurs.
***
Seeker's world trembles, both metaphorically and literally. Only one question remains: "How does the vessel break?"
"In near-death situations," Luke replies, his voice steady and grim. "Like any other vessel, it shatters under pressure, at the brink of death. The moment of breaking is when an Anathema is born from the shattered remains." He paused, then continued, "Some resist. Others succumb. Their minds shatter, their souls get consumed by this cursed power."
The revelation about the Anathema hangs heavy. Seeker's mind races, trying to reconcile the pieces of this fractured reality. Luke's words are like a curse.
Luke continues, "There are those like you... the rare few who..."
"Luke!" Rhys interjects, her voice filled with urgency and emotion. She looks at him, trying to stop him from saying what he was about to reveal.
But Luke anger flares, and he spits out the truth: "Those crazed scum.... obsessed with Death.... they capture people, subject them to unimaginable horrors. 'Heaven,' they call themselves. They try to manifest a curse, an Anathema. All that because he is near—"
"What did you just say?" The question dangles, unanswered, as the earth quakes.
An earthquake? No!
"What's happening?" Seeker panics.
Rhys and Luke exchange grim glances. Rhys's whisper is a fragile thread: "It can't be…"
Luke's growl cuts through the chaos: "… They followed us."
"H-huh!!" Seeker thinks to himself "What am I seeing right now!!?"
Seeker's world tilts. The truth unravels, and he stands at the precipice of something far greater than imagined.
Before them, in the light of the full moon, they emerge between the trees, slowly gathering in one space.
The Anathema Horde.
A headless monstrous equally grotesque figures, that seem to be born from the Anathema own essence.
They are cloaked in darkness, their rough, scaly skin adorned with jagged spikes. Each minion moves with a jerky, almost puppet-like motion, as if tethered to their master by some dark force. They are a synchronized mass of destruction, moving as one—a nightmare given form.
Surrounding their leader. The Anathema stands as a towering, nightmarish entity, its body an amalgamation of twisted, branch-like structures that evoke a sense of unnatural growth. Eyes burn with fiery red intensity, piercing through the misty, eerie atmosphere. Twisted horns crown its head, glinting menacingly. Its roar echoes for miles, striking fear into hearts.
The full moon casts an ominous glow over the entire scene, heightening the sense of dread and otherworldliness
The Anathema and its horde embody pure, unrelenting terror, a force of chaos and destruction that leaves nothing but devastation in its wake. Their presence alone is enough to chill the blood and sap the courage of even the bravest souls, a living nightmare that haunts the darkest corners of the world.
Seeker, Rhys, and Luke—mere mortals—stand frozen, breaths visible in the chill air. But survival instincts kick in. Luke's command shatters the tension: "GET DOWN HERE NOW!"
Seeker moves, his muscles obeying before his mind fully processes the danger, scrambling for cover. Rhys's determination clashes with Luke's incredulity. She would hold them off; she would—
"No, wait!" Luke stops her, his eyes scanning the monstrous figures closing in.
Rhys, determined, turns to Luke: "Listen, I'll hold them off. You get Seeker to safety."
Luke's incredulous response cuts through the chaos: "Do you have a death wish or what? That thing counters—" Rhys interrupts, she remains resolute: "We can't risk letting them follow us back to the city. I'll distract them; then you—" Luke interrupts, desperation in his voice: "Just let me think for a goddamn second!"
The tension mounts as the fate of our trio hangs in the balance. But just then...
Seeker's gaze locks onto a lone figure striding toward the horde. Walking into chaos alone.
Was it curiosity? Or was it something else entirely? Nevertheless, it drove Seeker of truth forward despite the peril. He was drawn to the lone figure like a moth to a flame.
Rhys and Luke remain oblivious, consumed by the encroaching danger. The monster's growl and roar fill the place, echoing all around them.
Rhys's frantic voice breaks the silence: "Listen to me Luke, we don't have much time— Wait.." she pauses "Where's Seeker?"
Their gazes sweep.
Luke points urgently: "There!"
Rhys's frustration boils over: "What is he doing?" she shouts "Seeker! Come back here—" But Luke's grip tightens. "Wait, something's off!"
Rhys's anger shifts to concern: "What do you mean? He's about to get himself killed!" Luke's widened eyes focus on the lone figure. "LOOK!" he points.
Between them and the horde, bathed in the eerie glow of moonlight, the lone figure's steps are deliberate, purposeful—a man navigating the chaos.
As Seeker approaches the man, the man's body pulses with crimson veins, radiating heat like molten lava. The air shimmers around him, the intensity of his wrath palpable. Each step Seeker takes seems to crackle with energy, the ground beneath him scorched by the sheer force of the man's anger.
This lone figure is no ordinary man.
"Do you lay blame upon the world?" The man's voice cuts through the chaos, it holds both accusation and sorrow. His gaze fixes on the approaching horde while he points at them. "Or is it the hearts of humankind that bear the blame for all of this?"
A challenge to Seeker's understanding.
Rhys and Luke barely caught what the man was saying. Rhys's hand began to burn, a fierce determination blazing in her eyes. Luke grabbed her arm, halting her. "RHYS!" he shouted.
She glared at him, anger sparking in her gaze. "Fia entrusted him to us. What are you trying to tell me, Luke?"
Luke's eyes met hers, filled with urgency and concern. "We can't just rush in blindly. Think, Rhys. We need to be smart about this."
The man remains rooted, his hand outstretched. "I, too, slipped through the shadows," he confesses. "Drawn by an inexplicable urge." As if to emphasize his point. Then at that moment, the man's arm morphs—a long blade forged from veins of red-hot energy. It glows with crimson intensity, dropping lava from its veins, sizzling as it meets the sand, forming a crust that mirrors the chaos around them. He turns, facing Seeker, his eyes bearing the weight of countless battles.
Again, Rhys and Luke barely registered what the man was saying, but they sensed he was about to do something to Seeker.
"Take your hand off, Luke," Rhys commanded, her voice steady yet urgent.
"Rhys, please... just think. Why did he approach him alone?" Luke replied, his tone filled with urgency and a hint of fear.
"I don't... know," she answered, distress etched across her face.
"Something is wrong, Rhys, and I won't wait for us to die figuring it out. We need to get away from this pla—" Luke's sentence was cut short by the man's booming voice.
"The burden of this cursed power," the man said, his arm-blade poised. Seeker stood still before him. Behind Seeker, Rhys and Luke hiding in cover. Behind the man in red, the horde approaching. Between the man in red and Seeker is a soul inclined to evil. The man in red's intent was clear. "Let me relieve you," he paused with a scowl, then continued, "from all of it."
Right at that moment, the blade swings with a menacing hiss. Seeker flinches, eyes shut, expecting the impact—but it never comes. Instead, Seeker own hands have transformed—claw-like blades shielding him.
Both Rhys and Luke saw and heard, and they were shocked.
Seeker gasps, fingers elongated and metallic, forming an impenetrable barrier.
The man's voice pierces the chaos once more: "Cursed one.... Your name.."
Seeker trembles: "H-Huh… I… I—"
"Very well…Hahaha.." The man's laughter echoes, chilling. Then, he vanishes into a fog of his own making—a swirling mist of molten heat.
With a blink, Seeker's hands revert to normal, leaving him in a state of shock—not because of his hands, but because of where he found himself. His breath comes in ragged gasps as he mutters, "Huh... Where am I? A second ago, I was with Rhys and Luke..." Turning around, he said, "I was there... huh." He spotted them in the distance and started to run, his heart pounding as he tried to make sense of what just happened. The distant clash of a man and a horde echoed behind him..
Rejoining them, Seeker shouts urgently, "Rhys, Luke!" They sense the gravity of the situation and rise to their feet. Rhys glances back, her face etched with worry. "Seeker, stick close." They start to sprint toward the city, away from the chaos.
As they run, Seeker pushes through his confusion and fear. "What's going on!... Something strange happened back there. One moment I was with you, the next... I was somewhere else..."
Luke, unwavering in his determination, urges him forward. "We'll figure it out later. Let's get to the city first."
And so, they flee—a trio racing toward safety, leaving behind a lone man whose destiny clashes with the encroaching darkness.