The fire had long since burned itself out, but the smoke clung to the forest like a haunted veil, creeping through the branches in thin, ghostly tendrils. It was almost beautiful, the way it drifted—if not for the charred remains of what had once been a small settlement smoldering behind Lira.
She knelt at the edge of the blackened clearing, fingers brushing over a scorched wooden plaque—barely legible now. Only one word was still visible.
"Hope."
A cruel joke. The irony hit her like a punch in the gut.
She exhaled shakily and rose, her eyes scanning the treeline for signs of life. There was nothing. No birds. No insects. Not even the moan of the infected. Just silence—dense and oppressive, pressing into her skull.
She turned and glanced at Kai, who stood a few paces behind, arms crossed, jaw clenched.
"They were here recently," she said softly. "Less than a day ago."
He nodded. "And someone torched the place right after. Maybe they were trying to cover something up."
"Or send a message," Lira added.
Kai's eyes narrowed. "To who?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she walked toward the center of the ruin, stepping over charred planks and the twisted skeleton of what might've been a cooking pot. A few blackened bones stuck out from the ash like grotesque fingers.
It had been a sanctuary once. The kind of place survivors whispered about but never dared to believe in. A self-sufficient enclave, deep in the woods, hidden from both the infected and the raiders.
Now it was just another graveyard.
Lira felt the weight of it in her chest, a growing pressure that made it hard to breathe.
"We need to keep moving," Kai said behind her.
She turned, about to agree, when she spotted something glinting under the ash. Kneeling, she brushed it clean—a shard of glass, half-buried and reflecting sunlight like a broken star. But it wasn't the glass itself that caught her attention. It was what lay beside it.
A symbol. Burnt into the earth. Circular, with jagged lines branching outward like veins.
Her blood ran cold.
"Seen this before?" Kai asked, stepping closer.
Lira nodded slowly. "Yeah. Once. Carved into the wall of a quarantine zone. The day it was breached."
Kai went quiet. He didn't have to ask what that meant.
Whoever—or whatever—had done this wasn't just out to destroy. They were leaving their mark. Making sure people knew.
Suddenly, the silence wasn't so comforting anymore. It felt wrong. Forced.
"I don't like this," Kai muttered. "We need to get out of here."
Lira stood and dusted her hands. "Agreed. Let's move."
They backtracked through the trees, following a barely-there trail toward the cliffs to the north. The plan was to reach the ridge before sundown and scout for signs of other survivors. But the deeper they went, the more disoriented Lira felt.
It wasn't just the smoke. The trees seemed…off. Too evenly spaced. The air too still.
As if the forest were watching them.
Hours passed. The sun dipped lower. Shadows stretched long and slow across the undergrowth.
"We should've reached the ridge by now," Kai said.
"We have," Lira replied, pointing ahead.
The cliff face was right in front of them—but it was the wrong cliff.
Her stomach dropped. "This isn't possible. We were heading north."
Kai took out his compass.
North pointed behind them.
They both froze.
"I'm not crazy, right?" she asked.
"No. But this… This isn't natural."
Suddenly, a rustle from behind. Kai whirled, gun raised. Nothing. Just trees. Smoke.
Then a whisper.
So faint, it could've been the wind. But it wasn't.
It was a voice.
"…turn back…"
Lira's skin prickled.
"You heard that?" she asked.
Kai nodded, his knuckles white on the gun. "Keep walking. Eyes sharp."
They pressed forward, but the forest closed in tighter, branches clawing at their clothes, the path narrowing with every step.
Then they stumbled into a clearing.
And froze.
There were people there.
Or rather—figures.
Dozens of them. Standing in a wide circle. Perfectly still. Their faces hidden under tattered hoods, skin pale as bone. Not infected. Not quite human either.
Lira's heart pounded. She reached for her knife.
Kai grabbed her wrist. "Don't."
"They're blocking the way."
"Look closer."
She did. And realized with horror—they weren't moving because they couldn't.
They were statues.
Human statues. Sculpted with eerie precision. Eyes wide in terror. Mouths frozen mid-scream.
"What the hell is this…" Kai whispered.
Then a gust of wind blew through the clearing, lifting the hoods from one of the statues. Lira's breath caught.
It was a face she recognized.
A girl. No older than sixteen. She'd passed her in a refugee camp two months ago. Alive. Laughing.
Now she was stone.
"No," Lira whispered. "This isn't real."
Then came the sound again.
The whisper.
Only now it was louder. Closer.
"…leave… while you still can…"
Kai took a step back. "We need to go. Now."
Lira hesitated—but the forest had already begun to shift. The trees bending subtly. Shadows moving without light.
She didn't wait to understand it.
They ran.
Branches whipped at them. Roots clawed at their feet. But they kept moving, breath ragged, hearts thundering.
Only when they reached the river—cold, fast, and wide—did they stop.
Kai doubled over, panting. "What the hell was that?"
"I don't know," Lira gasped. "But it's not part of the infection. It's something else."
They sat in silence, catching their breath. Across the water, the trees remained still. Watching.
Then Kai pulled something from his jacket. A slip of paper. Scorched around the edges.
"I found this in the ruins," he said. "Didn't want to say anything until we were clear."
He handed it to her.
Lira unfolded it carefully.
It was a map.
Crude. Hand-drawn. But it showed a network of tunnels beneath the forest. Lines connecting abandoned cities, quarantine zones… and something marked only as "Eclipse Gate."
Her hands trembled.
This was no accident. No random outbreak.
There was a pattern.
Someone—or something—was orchestrating it all.
And the survivors were just pawns in a much larger game.