"I feel it in my throat, the beating heart like a lump of coal, seizing my every breath. So nervous, so scared. I can't be, I mustn't be.

"Hey, fresh meat," I hear. "Nervous, huh?"

Oh, it was Bjorin Thunderforge, my commanding officer. "Yes, sir!" I yell.

"Well, you don't have to yell," he replies. "We can hear you, and so can the Corrupted, for that matter."

Now I've done it. I thought I couldn't speak, so I yelled instead.

But then I hear it—the commanding horns. The enemy is coming. I've heard they're harmless. They'll just run and crash into the Shield Wall, and the pikemen in the back will stab them through their heads. Easy as that. But still...

My train of thought is interrupted. I see them now—the hordes. So numerous, we can't possibly defeat them.

I look to my comrades. I can't see their faces through their visors, but I can feel the nonchalance with which they stand. They're relaxed. How can they be, when there are so many of them in front of us?

"Don't worry, fresh meat," the veteran next to me says. "The Shield Wall will hold."

The beat of the stone grows louder. They're coming, fast—faster than I've ever seen. Cold sweat trickles down my back, and I gulp. Closer now, so fast, and so many.

We form the Shield Wall as ordered, tightening our lines, holding steady, gripping our short spears with shaking hands. I hear Borin's voice barking commands from behind us, on his Battle Boar, but my eyes are fixed on the unimaginable horde of twisted shapes and growling masses.

Crash!

The first wave hits, and it's like the sound of thunder—loud, deafening. The Wall couldn't possibly hold, but the veterans stand firm. We press forward, pushing the Corrupted back.

But something is wrong. They're retreating?

"What...?" I whisper, unable to make sense of it.

The Corrupted break off, but instead of scattering, they regroup. Forming ranks, some twenty meters from us.

A crawling dread begins to spread through my whole body. They stand there for a moment, but then I see it: some of them are moving around the Shield Wall, attacking the flanks. And more are appearing from the shadows—hidden.

Crash!

The second wave hits, more powerful than the first, and the Shield Wall holds. But I can't stop thinking—What about the flanks?

It's too late.

The Corrupted come from every direction. The Shield Wall, designed for the mindless attacks of the Corrupted from the front, begins to buckle under the weight of the surprise assault.

I feel a sudden push against my shield. Then another. My vision begins to spin. My knees give way. Panic surges through me, but before I can even draw breath, the shield crushes me. My vision fades, the battle sounds turning into muffled noise, the air thick with dust and the scent of blood.

Then… nothing.

I wake up. My head aches, a dull throb like something pushing from the inside. The air smells different now—sweeter, almost. I blink, trying to focus. The battle... it's over.

I'm not where I fell. I can't remember how I got here. My body is heavy, sluggish. A faint tingling sensation crawls across my skin, like a thousand little spiders. I feel like I'm dreaming. Something's wrong.

I push myself up, swaying on my feet. The city—our city, Kharkun-Dran—stands before me. But... it's not the same.

As I walk forward, the city reveals itself. The great stone towers, once standing tall and proud, are now crumbling, their foundation cracked and uneven. The once-pristine streets now shatterd, stained with the remnants of slaughter. The massive stone walls, ussualy so imposing, are now marred by jagged fissures. The great Glowstones, once so radiant, are now muted and unnerving, dulled by the smoke and dust choking the air. The streets are deserted, save for the echoes of my footsteps, each one louder in stillness.

I pass by the remnants of the grand market square, where the stones are stained with ash and blood, the banners tattered and torn, their once-vibrant colors now drained and red with ruin. The fountain, which used to be a symbol of our city's wealth and pride, is almost empty, it's crystal clear water replaced by a thick, deep crimson liquid that pools around the cracked stone.

I can't hear it—the rhytmic hum of forges, the constant pounding of hammers on anvils, the clang of smelters at work—now replaced by a heavy, suffocating silence the silence that echoes in my ears. But I keep walking, my mind numb. I see the remnants of dwarven soldiers, dead and dying. Their faces twisted with horror, their bodies strewn across the ground like broken dolls abandoned in the street.

But I don't feel anything. I should feel something, right? Should't I be mourning? But all I feel is hunger. A gnawing, relentless hunger that grows stronger with every step. And there's something else—something crawling inside my mind like an itch I can't scratch. I shake my head, trying to focus, but the feeling doesn't go away. My thoughts feel sluggish, foggy, as if I'm struggling to hold onto them.

GO!

My body begins to move, against my will. I can't stop it. It surges forward, faster now, toward the exit of the city. I'm sprinting.

I hear it the song, it's beautiful. Radiant.

I smell it, that sweet sweet smell, what is it? Then I see them, The Corrupted, I'm drawing closer, but they are clawing at something, fighting. It looks like a small shield wall barely holding on, my mind is screaming "no," but my body moves on it's own.

I know what smells so good, it's the smell of the uncorrupted, so sweet so delicious, I need to taste it, but why are they fighting?

I just need a taste, just a small nible. STOP! my mind yells. They are your people!

"But that smell" I whisper to myself. It's irresistible.

It's over. My mind can't fight it anymore. I bite, I scratch, I tear into them. I need to eat. I need to taste.

The song is so beautiful...