Moments before.
Panagiot marched out the front entrance, Clayton close behind him. Through the relentless downpour, screams pierced the air, mingling with the unnatural growls of the undead. Rain and smoke twisted together, thickening the air as flames consumed the homes and shops with ferocious hunger.
Outside, the Holy Knights of Umar stood locked in formation.
"Good," Panagiot shouted as he strode among them. "Whatever has befallen this village will know the might and power of Umar's sons."
He turned to the knights at the head of the formation. One stepped forward, sword drawn and stained with blood.
"Sir, we have concluded these are reanimated knights—killed by the Gultonk—and they have been brought back by an individual," the knight reported.
Panagiot raised his hand, and an image of a massive double-headed great axe shimmered into existence. With a powerful swing, it became solid in his grasp.
"If this intel is correct," Panagiot barked, pacing like a caged beast, "then we have a disgusting, foul necromancer here in the village!"
He stopped, voice rising to a roar. "If this is true, then the war has come to Umar's country. It is our duty—YOUR DUTY—to ensure our enemies and the foul creatures of this world meet their end!"
Turning sharply, he began to march into the village. "Fan out and lock down this street. Any survivors will be brought back here. Commander Ruffgaurd will decide their fate."
Clayton marched alongside Panagiot, sword in hand, heart pounding. Fear clawed at him—the villagers, his fallen brothers, all caught in this nightmare. Doubt settled heavy in his chest. Could he strike down his own dead brothers?
Panagiot slapped him on the back, jarring him from his thoughts. "Still yourself, boy. It does not matter who they were in life. What matters is you cut them down."
Clayton nodded, burying the doubt deep. He was a Knight of Umar. This was his duty.
A movement caught his eye around the corner. He raised his sword, ready. A figure appeared—a group of women guiding children into the light.
"Oh, thank the King the knights are still here," one mother whispered, relief flooding her voice.
"Come this way!" Clayton called out, herding them through the formation toward Commander Ruffgaurd.
"Survivors already?" Ruffgaurd's eyes narrowed. He began inspecting the group. "Be sure not to let them in unchecked. We need to confirm there are no bites—or that the necromancer isn't among them," he ordered Clayton sharply.
Clayton nodded and carefully searched each woman and child. "Where are the others?" Panagiot demanded.
"Some have taken shelter at the temple," one woman replied, her voice trembling.
"I'll make my way there. Lead men to the center of town and draw the dead's attention," Panagiot said to Ruffgaurd before striding away.
"Understood," Ruffgaurd replied with a scowl. He turned to Clayton. "I'm leaving men here to maintain the perimeter—and to handle the bodies inside."
Clayton's brow furrowed. The bodies? The two in the cells? he wondered.
Ruffgaurd snapped his fingers, pulling Clayton sharply back to attention. Clayton saluted. Ruffgaurd groaned, drawing his sword and raising it high. "Alright, you whelps! To me!"
The knights surged forward, plunging into the village under the steady downpour. Clayton led the group of survivors to the mess hall.
Inside, a massive table—large enough for thirty—was set with food and surrounded by glowing candles. A roaring fire blazed in the massive hearth.
"Stay here," Clayton urged gently. "Warm yourselves, eat, and rest."
A small girl tugged at his sleeve, eyes wide with fear. "You killed the big monster, right?"
Clayton nodded, swallowing a lump of guilt.
"You'll kill the other monsters too?" she asked, tears welling.
"Yes," Clayton promised. "All the Knights of Umar will keep you safe."
A woman scooped the girl into her arms and carried her toward the fire.
Clayton felt the weight of their fear pressing on him. He had to protect them.
Suddenly, a heavy thud echoed from the main stairs—the crash of armor.
"Keep these doors shut!" Clayton ordered. "Don't open them unless it's me, Panagiot, or Commander Ruffgaurd!"
The women nodded, trembling on the edge of tears.
Clayton drew his sword and rushed toward the stairs. Turning the corner, he came face to face with Francisco descending.
Their eyes locked. Both stopped.
"What? I thought you were dead," Clayton said, disbelief thick in his voice.
Francisco raised his hands. "I would have been—if not for the large man you and your knights beat."
Shame slammed into Clayton's chest. "The Knights of Umar must do whatever is necessary to ensure safety and peace."
Even speaking the words felt wrong.
Francisco gave a disappointed look and descended slowly. Clayton pointed his sword at him. "Don't move. We have enough to worry about right now."
"Just go back to your cell, and I'll plead—"
Clayton stopped short, eyes drawn upward.
At the top of the stairs lay dead knights.
Rage coiled in Clayton's gut. "What have you and that bastard done?"
Francisco's face hardened. "What we had to, to keep the princess safe."
Clayton's confusion deepened. "What princess?"
Francisco reached the bottom step. "The Boarkar woman you and your knights brought here—and tortured."
Clayton shook his head fiercely. "We wouldn't torture someone, especially a princess."
Francisco stepped closer. "Then explain what I saw upstairs."
Clayton's sword dropped. His mind raced, drowning in everything—the Gultonk's attack, his fallen comrades, the elite commander, a princess, and now the undead outbreak.
His father's voice echoed in his mind: Don't lose control. Breathe. Calm your mind.
Clayton took a deep breath. "Alright. Show me what's been done to the Boarkar woman. Then we'll decide what to do."
The two began to ascend the stairs.
Suddenly, the entrance doors burst open. A woman charged in, drawing an arrow, aiming it at Clayton.
Clayton raised his sword in defense. The woman's face was familiar—but twisted, no longer fully her own.
"Please," Francisco pleaded, stepping between them. "If the dead are out there, we mustn't fight!"
A soft grunt drew their attention to the stairs.
There, standing in the dim light, were Diomede and Kira.