Saga stood in the empty house, staring through the open door her sister had disappeared through. A faintness swept over her, as if the ground beneath her feet were dissolving, leaving her lost in a world closing in.
She moved to the door, shutting and bolting it with trembling hands. One by one, she secured every window and opening in the house. Then, she climbed the stairs to her room, locking the door behind her. Picking up her hunting knife, she gripped it tightly, her knuckles pale in the flickering candlelight.
With the knife clutched to her chest, she blew out the candle and slid under her bed.
Saga had done exactly as her sister, Siren, had ordered. Yet no matter how she tried, she couldn't shake the terror smothering her. Lying on her stomach in the suffocating dark, she listened helplessly as the invaders ravaged the town.
Screams pierced the night, rising and falling like a grotesque melody. Cries for mercy turned guttural, raw, before silencing one by one. She trembled as the sounds clawed at her from every direction. Buildings burned, the flames visible through her window before she'd locked it. The anguished wails of people trapped within echoed in her mind, even as her view turned to blackness.
What if they set this house on fire too? What will happen to me then?
Her breath hitched. She pressed her chin against her folded arms, forcing herself to stay still. In this blind audience, she could only listen to the carnage unfolding on the distant stage below. A horrific play where she was not yet a participant.
Not until—
The front door exploded inward.
Saga flinched as the sound of splintering wood and shattering glass ripped through the house. Her heart pounded as she heard the door crash into the showcase in the living room. It couldn't be Siren. Siren wouldn't do that to her own home.
Where is Siren?
She gasped, then clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound. Heavy boots thudded against the floorboards below, reverberating like thunder. More than one.
The invaders tore through the house. Saga cringed as she heard fabric being ripped apart, delicate glass breaking, and furniture splintering under their assault. They shouted to one another in a guttural language she couldn't understand, their voices filled with venom.
Then she heard them coming up the stairs.
Where is Siren?
Terror gripped Saga. Her limbs felt paralyzed, her breathing shallow. Fighting the urge to sob, she blindly groped in the dark. Her foot struck something solid, cardboard boxes, filled with old books. She silently thanked her tendency to hoard as she dragged the boxes toward her. Dust clung to her hands, but she didn't care. Quickly, she stacked them around herself, building a fragile barrier, and curled into a ball within the cramped space.
The footsteps paused outside her bedroom door.
A shout rang out, guttural and harsh, aimed at the other invaders still wrecking rooms down the hall and downstairs. Saga heard the handle jiggle and held her breath.
It was locked.
A moment of silence passed. Then the bandit kicked the door.
The wood splintered under the force.
Saga buried her face in her palms, her heart pounding in her ears.
Where is Siren?
No sound of a cry escaped Saga, mercifully. Her nails dug into the soft flesh of her cheeks as she clutched her mouth tightly, suppressing even the faintest whimper. She curled further into herself, a trembling ball that had forgotten how to breathe.
The invader had brought a torch. Its ruddy light danced against the walls, making shadows twist like sinister wraiths. Slowly, Saga lifted her head over the cardboard wall, her movements cautious and silent. Her gaze caught the glint of blue greaves gleaming in the torchlight.
The sabatons moved toward her bed, each step a chilling, metallic clink that reverberated like a death knell. Then, the pair of legs stopped. Right beside her.
Saga lowered herself to the floor, pressing her body against the boards, her mind desperate with a single thought: Narld, let me vanish. Let me become one with the floor. Don't let these animals find me!
But doubt gnawed at her fragile hope. Narld stayed unbothered while they killed small children. If he allowed such horrors, why would he spare me?
The invader dropped to the floor suddenly. Saga froze. His head ducked under the bed, the predator's shadowed face inches from the makeshift wall of cardboard boxes. She could hear his raspy breathing.
Terror wrapped its intangible hands around her, squeezing. Beneath her skin, it felt as if worms of fear writhed, twisting and burrowing deeper.
Where is Siren?
A shout echoed from downstairs. The invader paused, then slowly pulled back, his head disappearing from under the bed. Saga heard him respond, his guttural voice sharp and commanding. Then he rose, his armor clinking softly, and—
He shut the door behind him.
Darkness reclaimed her room.
Saga lay motionless, ears straining as the footsteps retreated, the thuds growing faint. She waited, counting the silence between each beat of her heart. Only when she heard no more sounds from downstairs did she dare to release her hands from her mouth.
A shaky exhale escaped her, followed by sharp, ragged breaths. She gulped air in uneven bursts, trembling violently. He had been inches away, so close to finding her. So close to slaughtering her.
Tears traced silent paths down her face as she lay in the fragile sanctuary of her cardboard walls. Though fear's grip loosened, her body still shook. Slowly, her awareness began to return, and with it, the cool relief of survival.
The cries and shouts from outside reached her ears again, pulling her focus back to the chaos. Then, something else. A new sound.
It was faint but persistent. A soft, rapid snapping. A mild crinkling.
Saga's mind conjured an image: a campfire. The summer camping trip with Siren, Aunty Yrsa, and Uncle Vor. They had sat by the narrow river south of Havensol, listening to the fire crackle as it devoured dry wood.
The sound wasn't just in her mind. It was coming from downstairs.
Her hand pressed to the floorboards. The wood felt warmer. Too warm.
The sharp, acrid scent of smoke stung her nose. The air thickened, growing hotter, harsher. Her throat clenched as the heat made her cough. Panic surged through her as she scrambled through the cardboard boxes, pushing them aside and dragging herself out from under the bed, coughing violently.
Saga hurled herself at the window, pushing it open with trembling hands. Light from the burning buildings outside flooded in, illuminating her smoke-filled room. She gasped for air, coughing violently as the acrid white haze stung her throat and eyes. Desperately, she pulled up the edge of her tunic, bunched it, and pressed it against her nose.
Her head spun; her legs wobbled beneath her as she stumbled toward the door. She flung it open, and was greeted by a roaring wall of flames. The inferno leaped at her, a living, twisting thing that lashed out to kiss her skin.
With a startled cry, she fell backward, slamming the door shut with her foot. Heat radiated through the wooden panels, pressing against her like a blistering wave. Her room had turned into an oven, and she was being baked alive.
Sweat poured down her face, mixing with the tears streaming from her smoke-stung eyes. Her lungs screamed for fresh air. She staggered back to the window, leaning out and sucking in the night air greedily.
Below, flames licked hungrily at the first floor, consuming everything in their path. The house was a pyre, and she was trapped.
Siren is not coming, is she?
The thought hit her like a hammer. Saga could no longer wait for her sister to save her. She had to escape now. But how?
She wasn't afraid of heights, one story was manageable. But this? Two stories were a perilous drop. A bad landing might twist her ankle, maybe worse. And if she couldn't run, she wouldn't stand a chance against the invaders.
Survival instinct sharpened her mind. She needed a plan.
The invaders didn't seem to linger around the houses they set ablaze. If she could get out and stay low, she might avoid their notice. The floor beneath her feet was growing hotter, threatening to collapse.
Saga's eyes darted to her bed. She seized the sheet, yanking it free and bundling it in her arms. Racing to the window, she tied one corner tightly to the shutter. With a deep breath, she threw the makeshift rope out into the night. It dangled only halfway down.
It'll have to do.
She climbed onto the ledge, her heart pounding as she looked down. The drop loomed ominously below, but she had no choice. Gritting her teeth, she gripped the sheet and began her descent.
The fire surged into her room with a deafening roar. The heat singed her back, panic overtaking her balance. Her hands slipped.
She plummeted.
Her fingers clawed desperately at the sheet, barely slowing her fall. She crashed into the lawn, the breath punched from her lungs. The world spun in a fiery haze as she lay sprawled on the grass, gasping.
Distant shouting pierced her disorientation. The invaders had seen her.
Saga tried to push herself up, her limbs trembling. She collapsed back onto the ground, her body refusing to cooperate. From her lopsided view of the burning town, she saw him, a towering figure in crimson armor.
Flames danced on the polished surface of his plate. His voice, low and terrible, came through the grated helm, speaking words she wished she didn't understand.
"Born to die. Ufanfolk, offer up your soul for the harvesting. Become nourishment for the dark."
The black sword in his hand glinted wickedly in the firelight as he raised it high above his head.
"Cull the herd!"
Saga's mind screamed. Where is Siren? I'm going to die!