Deborah's POV
The silence of dawn was shattered by a piercing scream, and in an instant, the entire camp descended into chaos.
People woke up in panic, their eyes darting around as the air filled with the frantic sounds of confusion and ragged breathing.
Scream after scream echoed from different directions, each one intensifying the growing sense of terror.
I quickly threw off the blanket and stood up. Cora, David, and Mark reacted just as fast, rushing with me toward the crowd.
Pushing through the sea of people, my heart pounded in my chest, and the sight before me made it seize with fear.
Three children and their parents lay on the ground, blood streaming from their eyes, noses, ears, and mouths. Their skin was ghostly pale.
I knelt beside them, reaching out to feel for a pulse, but there was nothing—no heartbeat. They were all dead.
The scene was suffocating, and my hands trembled as the sense of foreboding in my heart grew stronger.
The findings that followed shocked us all.
After investigating, we discovered that by morning, 1,486 people had died from bleeding out through their orifices.
The cause? They had been carrying multiple Amulets and had succumbed to radiation from the Falshi, which ultimately led to their deaths.
This conclusion made my heart clench.
I knew exactly what it meant.
Not far away, I saw a familiar face—Major Ryan Green from the FDB—he was one of the dead.
Seeing him stirred complex emotions within me.
Ryan had been arrogant and selfish, and now, having taken extra Amulets, he had become a victim of the radiation.
Around us, the FDB soldiers muttered under their breath, some whispering, "It's embarassing to think we have someone so selfish in the FDB."
The people who had taken more Amulets than they needed began to panic, especially the parents.
They anxiously asked, "Are these Amulets dangerous for my child? Is my child's Amulet too big?"
I calmly reassured them, "Don't worry. The Amulets were distributed in limited quantities, and we made sure everyone received the right size. But if anyone has taken more than they need, please return the extras immediately. Don't discard these charms—they are vital to our survival during this migration."
To avoid shame or guilt, we decided to collect the extra Amulets anonymously.
Matthew and I prepared several opaque bags, passing them around to each group.
Everyone had to put their hand inside, whether they had an extra Amulet or not.
This way, no one would feel exposed or pressured, ensuring that every surplus Amulet would be returned.
Afterward, we held a funeral for the 1,486 people who had died.
"Ignis Ardens!" I called out, lighting the pyres.
Flames roared into the desert sky, black smoke spiraling upward.
Everyone observed a minute of silence as the fire blazed, casting a somber glow over our faces. The weight of death hung heavily in the air.
Standing by the fire, I could feel the fear gripping everyone—death's shadow loomed over us like a ghost, more real than we could have imagined when we first set out.
The flames burned hotter, the bodies slowly turning to ash, while many in the crowd stared blankly, their faces expressionless, still unable to comprehend the sudden loss of life.
Some quietly prayed, hoping the souls of the departed would find peace in the afterlife.
The air was thick with the smell of burning and unspeakable sorrow.
When the fire finally began to die down, everyone silently packed up their things, preparing to move on.
We had no choice but to keep going—staying here to die wasn't an option.
After a long and grueling trek under the blistering desert sun, we finally arrived at the ruins of an abandoned city.
Standing at the edge of the ruins, I looked out at the crumbling remains of what was once a thriving metropolis, a deep sadness washing over me.
This city had once been a symbol of civilization, but now, its towering buildings have been worn down by time and sand, reduced to rubble.
The ordinary people stared at the ruins in shock and awe, many of them having been born and raised in the underground city, never having seen the surface or the remnants of human civilization.
"So… this is the world above?" someone whispered, their voice filled with disbelief.
"Is this what the apocalypse looks like? Is there any hope left for Earth?" another voice murmured, laced with despair.
But as we arrived, it became clear that this city had recently endured a natural disaster. What had already been a decaying ruin was now completely flattened.
The supplies Matthew and I had previously found were buried somewhere beneath the wreckage, lost to us forever.
***
Night fell quickly, faster than we had anticipated.
The fading twilight disappeared from the horizon, cloaking us in darkness.
The city ruins we had planned on using had already been leveled to the ground, leaving us no better alternative.
For safety, we had no choice but to head to a small village we had previously dismissed due to its lack of supplies.
Although there weren't many resources, the village had intact buildings, which offered at least some protection.
If any large mutated creatures came our way, we would take shelter indoors.
Everyone trudged along, their bodies weary and gaunt after the long day of travel.
The silence in the group felt heavy, weighted by exhaustion and an unspoken dread.
When we finally reached the village, the sun had already set, casting a faint orange glow on the horizon.
But the setting sun didn't bring any comfort.
We all knew that once it disappeared entirely, danger would be imminent.
Ashen Light and the FDB soldiers quickly got to work, organizing shelters for everyone.
The village was small, but the houses were enough to accommodate all the survivors.
The village houses were close together, packed tightly, with barely any space between them, as if the villagers had once enjoyed living close to one another.
It must have been a lively, thriving village once.
Although each house appeared slightly weathered, the windows and doors remained intact, showing no signs of damage or obvious decay.
These houses appeared far sturdier than the ruins in the city, seemingly able to withstand the elements, offering a rare sense of security in this desolate land.
Yet, upon closer inspection, everything in the village emitted an eerie silence, as if collectively abandoned by its residents.
Perhaps they had been safely relocated to an underground city.
A heavy, aged air lingered in every alleyway, wrapping around the village.
No one knew where the original villagers had gone, but the layout and well-preserved condition of the houses hinted that they hadn't left in haste.
This scene couldn't help but evoke thoughts that these villagers might have been collectively moved to an underground city, leaving the surface for a new world, abandoning the village to slowly wither with time.
Beyond the village stretched a vast, open plain.
The flat land extended far into the distance, where withered, dry trees stood scattered, a few lonely ones braving the cold wind.
That expanse lay empty, its unsettling silence somehow too peaceful.
After witnessing the deaths of those who had secretly hoarded Amulets earlier that morning, people were more cooperative than ever.
No one dared to question the orders or complain.
Their faces were etched with fear, and their actions were robotic—moving because they had to, not because they had the energy to.
Conversations were reduced to quiet murmurs, but most simply stood in silence, waiting for directions.
Ashen Light and the soldiers warned everyone: "No eating, no noise tonight. Any sound could attract the mutated creatures."
As the last sliver of sunlight disappeared, the village plunged into darkness.
The air seemed to grow heavier, and I could feel the tension tightening around us, like a coiled spring.
The werewolves and FDB soldiers stood guard outside, weapons in hand, positioned by the doorways.
Every house was assigned a mix of werewolves and soldiers to protect the civilians.
I had been placed in the same house as Matthew.
To prevent the Tirnanog babies from crying during the night, we decided to keep them all in our house.
It was risky—if one child cried, it could put everyone in danger—but scattering them across different houses would only increase the risk of an attack on the entire village.
I could hear faint noises outside—small, subtle movements—but they were growing closer. My heart began to race.
Matthew stood at the door, gripping his knife tightly.
His brow furrowed, eyes fixed on the darkness outside, his fingers trembling slightly as they clenched the handle.
His whole body was tense, every muscle primed for action.
Inside the house, everyone held their breath.
The tension was palpable.
No one dared to move or make a sound, terrified that any noise would attract whatever lurked outside.
The Tirnanog women held their babies close, pressing them tightly to their chests, silently pleading for them to stay asleep.
They fed the infants before sunset, doing everything they could to keep them calm through the night.
Their faces were pale, their eyes wide with worry.
I readied myself, prepared to use magic if necessary, but deep down, I prayed that tonight would pass without incident.
But then I noticed one of the Tirnanog women.
The baby in her arms began to squirm, as if hungry.
Panicked, she hurriedly slipped her finger into the baby's mouth to pacify it, but the infant only became more restless, letting out small whimpering sounds.
The fear on her face was unmistakable.
Her hands shook as she gently patted the baby's back, rocking him softly in her arms.
But then, outside, the growling of mutated creatures echoed in the distance.
The baby flinched at the noise, and its squirming escalated into a full-on cry.
The sharp, piercing cry of the baby cut through the silence, echoing in the stillness of the night.