Crimson stumbled back to her feet, coughing violently as smoke stung her eyes and throat. Her lungs burned, but she pushed forward, reaching for her grandmother's limp body.
"Come on... Come on." She sobbed, hands fumbling around her grandmother's ankle. The fire had begun crawling up the side of the bed, devouring the sheets in glowing orange teeth. Heat pressed against her face, suffocating and relentless.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she dragged the stool over climbed it with shaky legs, and reached for the knot around her grandmother's throat.
The knot was too tight. Her fingers slipped again and again.
"Please," she begged, "just... just let me get her down."
"Crimson!" A voice bellowed through the smoke.
She turned her head, barely making a figure emerging through the haze. Cedric? He coughed hard, his face pale and wild as he hurried toward her, eyes wide at the sight.
He grabbed her hand, pulling her down. "Crimson! We have to go! Now!"
She thrashed. "No... no! She's coming with us!" Her voice cracked, smoke mixing with the tears in her throat.
"She's dead!" Cedric shouted. "She's gone Crimson! She's gone."
She froze, her limbs heavy, legs locking as something inside her shattered. Her grandmother... was really gone. Crimson fell into him, sobbing once more before he gripped her waist and pulled her towards the door.
Outside, the world was chaos.
Screams. Wailing. Metal meeting flesh in a sickening rhythm.
He pulled her by the hand, half dragging her as she stumbled, approaching the door of the cottage.
The door suddenly burst open with a deafening crash, splinters flying across the stone floor.
Crimson fell backwards, her palms scraping the floor as she landed hard on the ground. Her breath was ripped from her lungs... but it wasn't the fall that stole it.
It was what stepped into the room.
Not quite a man.
Not anymore.
A vampire.
The creature hunched the doorway, gaunt and twitching, it's limbs too long, too thin, as if the bone had stretched beneath wasted skin. It eyes was plain red and wide, no pupils left.
And the smell, gods, the smell hit her like a wall.
Rot. Wet soil. Burned metal. Blood.
But stale blood. The kind that had clotted beneath fingernails and dried in forgotten corners.
It's mouth gaped, jagged and blood back, lips shriveled and peeling back from carved fangs.
Crimson heart slammed against her ribs.
She couldn't breathe. Couldn't move.
The thing was above her now, leaning down, it's fingers brushing the tips of her frozen red hair.
It head tilted as it stared at her chest, as if it could hear her heartbeat... or smell her blood.
She whimpered, bracing herself.
And just as its claw grazed her cheek... A flash of silver bisected the air. Cedric had unsheathed his sword in a fluid motion. The blade, sharp and gleaming, bit deep, severing the vampire's reaching hand with a wet thud. A sickening, black ichor, thick and viscous, spurted from the stump, sizzling as it hit the cold floor. Without a moment's hesitation, Cedric spun, his sword arcing through the air again, cleaving through the creature's chest with a brutal, satisfying crunch of bone and rotting flesh
The creature staggered, a ragged gurgle escaping its throat as it convulsed, then crumpled to the ground in a heap. It lay there, twitching, not quite dead, its remaining eye still glowing with a dim, lingering malice. Cedric didn't spare it another glance. His attention was solely on Crimson.
"Up!" he commanded, his voice sharp with urgency. He grabbed her arm, his grip firm and reassuring, pulling her to her feet. "We have to move, now!"
The world around them had dissolved into chaos. Rogues, their gaunt forms moving with an unnatural, sickening speed, launched themselves at the villagers who, moments ago, had been going about their mundane lives. The once peaceful village of Whitespire was transforming into a bloody tableau, a nightmare unfolding with chilling swiftness. Screams ripped through the air, guttural roars answered by desperate cries, the crunch of snow underfoot mingling with the wet thud of bodies hitting the ground.
He dragged her into a small, sturdy cabin, its wooden walls offering a fragile illusion of safety. Inside, huddled in a corner, was Cedric's mother, her face etched with fear, and his younger sister, trembling beside her. Lara's wide eyes, still innocent, reflected the terror that gripped them all.
Cedric knelt before his sister, his voice low and urgent. He spoke too quickly for Crimson to catch every word, but she saw the glint of metal as he handed Lara a small, wicked-looking dagger. Lara's small hand closed around the hilt, her knuckles white.
He then turned to his mother, his expression grim. "I'll clear a path, Mother. We'll make for the border." Without waiting for a reply, he straightened and strode out, the door slamming shut behind him with a resonant thud, plunging the cabin into a deeper, more suffocating silence.
Crimson sank to the floor beside Lara and Cedric's mother, her head spinning. Her grandmother. She was gone. At least she hadn't lived to see this. She hadn't witnessed the village's last, brutal moments.
Suddenly, the cabin door splintered inward with a loud crack. A man, bleeding heavily, was flung through the opening like a rag doll, skidding across the wooden floor. He lay there, twitching, attempting to crawl, his lips mouthing a silent, desperate plea: "Help…me…"
Before he could move another inch, a rogue launched itself through the broken doorway, landing on him with a sickening thud. It buried its fangs in his neck, tearing, ripping. They all gasped, a collective, choked sound, as they watched in frozen horror as the creature drained the last of the man's blood, the rhythmic gulping sickeningly loud in the confined space.
The rogue's head snapped up, its blood-red eyes fixing on them, a primal hunger blazing within their depths. In one horrifying moment, it launched itself across the room. Cedric's mother, with a scream of defiance, threw herself forward, blocking the creature from reaching Lara. The rogue's fangs, meant for the child, ended up buried in her outstretched hand.
"Mother!" Lara wailed, a shrill, heart-wrenching sound.
Crimson reacted instinctively. She grabbed Lara's small hand, pulling her away from her mother, away from the monstrosity, even as the mother cried out in agony.
Crimson didn't think, she just ran, pulling Lara along with her. The little girl's small hand was clammy in hers, her sobs choked and desperate. "Mother!" Lara wailed, stumbling through the snow. Crimson didn't know where they were going, didn't care. Away. That was the only direction that mattered. Away from the tearing sounds, away from the gurgling, away from the monster that had turned Cedric's mother into its prey. Every shadow seemed to twist into a rogue, every gust of wind sounded like a snarl. Their breath plumed in the frigid air as they half-ran, half-fell through the deepening snow, the cries of the dying village fading behind them, slowly replaced by the pounding of Crimson's own terrified heart.
"Run to the border!" Cedric shouted over the roar of flames, blood, and wind as soon as he sighted them. His voice cracked, strained, sword flashing in one hand as he shoved another Rogue back. "There might still be carriages left!"
Crimson hesitated, just long enough to see him throw himself back into the chaos.
Then she turned, clutching the girl's small, frozen hand in hers. "Come on!"
They ran.
Snow whipped across their faces. Crimson could barely see, her lashes crusted with frost, her cloak dragging through slush. The path ahead was uneven and torn, fences broken, wagons overturned, shadows moving too quickly in the dark.
Behind them, a Rogue shrieked.
Crimson twisted her body, shoving the girl forward just as a bony hand swiped from the shadows. She ducked, but not fast enough, its claw grazed her arm through her cloak, slicing into her skin.
She hissed in pain, clutching the wound. Her sleeve darkened quickly with blood. The cold only made it worse, her fingers were already numb, and now her arm was burning.
But they couldn't stop.
"Almost there," she said through gritted teeth, her voice trembling. "We're almost there."
The sound of hooves.
Wheels churning in the slush.
They burst from the alley and onto the old road near the forest edge.
Ahead... blessedly... carriages.
Huge, covered ones, likely merchant wagons turned escape vehicles, meant to carry several families at once. A cluster of villagers clung to them, scrambling aboard. Crimson sprinted, heart hammering, dragging the girl along.
The last door was swinging closed.
"Wait!" Crimson screamed, nearly slipping on ice. "Wait... please! She's just a child!"
A man at the back hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. His eyes landed on the girl. "It's full!" he shouted. "There's no more room!"
"Just her!" Crimson begged. "Please, just take her!"
The man hesitated again... then slammed the door shut.
The carriage jolted forward, horses neighing as it thundered down the snow-laced road.
Crimson and the girl stood there, breathing hard.
"No..." she whispered. "No, no, no..."
The girl sobbed beside her. Crimson pulled her close, shielding her from the cold as she watched the wagon vanish into the distance.
Then... movement.
Figures leapt from the treetops.
Three vampires, fast, mercilesslanded atop the fleeing carriage like wolves on prey. One smashed its hand through the canvas roof.
Crimson's breath caught.
She turned around slowly, eyes wide. Behind her, Windshire was... gone.
The village burned.
Cottages collapsed into themselves, fire licking at the sky. Screams had faded, many had already died or escaped. Crimson swallowed hard. Somewhere in that blaze... lay her grandmother's body.
She bit her lip, trying not to break.
A sound, soft crunching, drew her attention to the right.
There, stepping calmly through fire and snow like he belonged in both, was him.
A man in black.
His cloak barely brushed the ground. Smoke curled around him. Rogues skittered away from his path as if unwilling to cross it. He moved with purpose, but without urgency.
He tipped his head back.
Let the snow hit his face.
Then—removed his cap.
Those green eyes.
The same ones from the marketplace. Cold. Soulless. Beautiful in a terrifying way.
Crimson's lips parted. She took a step forward, lifting her hand weakly.
But before she could speak...
'THWACK.'
A brutal blow struck the back of her head.
White.
Pain.
Then... nothing.
She collapsed into the snow, her blood mixing with ash.