Chapter 5

Flesh-eaters.

Barely visible in the mist, they looked like twisted, hunched figures — elven or maybe human, it was hard to tell. They rose from the filthy waters and rushed toward us. Bits of clothing still clung to some of them, but it looked more like torn flesh. Their bodies were bloated with water, skin rotting, and their eyes burned with madness and hunger. At least two dozen. We had to act — now.

“Kris! Orders?!” Marcus shouted.

“Link up with the others! Fire the signal arrow and run!” she barked back.

Still running, Marcus pulled a carved arrow from his quiver — one with holes and a red ribbon. He fired it into the sky. The arrow screamed as it flew, the fabric unfurling midair for all to see.

“No point in running — those freaks don’t get tired!” Kris snapped. “We need a defensible position. Where the hell are Gar and the others?!”

“Kris! A quarter-hour from here, toward the waterfall — there’s a bridge!” Helle called out between gasps. “If we reach it, we’ll have the advantage. They’ll either have to cross in a narrow line or swim — both better than being surrounded here!”

Kris nodded once.

My lungs were on fire, my legs heavy as stone, but stopping now meant death.

A hundred more steps — then three quick silhouettes emerged from the fog.

Ours.

“What the hell happened?!” Elos called out as he reached us.

“No time for a report! MOVE!” Kris shouted, yanking his arm mid-run.

Garrel and Madeline were pulled along, keeping pace with help. Garrel looked back and went pale.

“Holy Protectors… Where’d you find them?! And why are they so fast?!”

“I didn’t expect them to be this quick either,” Kris said through clenched teeth, glancing behind. “They don’t look it…”

The bridge.

We crossed and finally had a moment to breathe — just enough to take position.

“To positions!” Kris ordered, her voice sharp.

Everyone moved back from the crossing, forming a line and counting down the seconds.

Then — the gurgling rasp.

From beyond the hill, the damned charged — wild, erratic, with hollow black eyes blazing with hunger.

They saw us. They wanted to eat us.

Our advantage? Terrain and steel.

Theirs? Numbers. Desperation. Hunger. At least three times our count.

They reached the rocky slope at the river’s edge and froze.

Then the whole swarm lunged for the bridge.

“Marcus, first one’s yours!” Kris shouted.

His arrow flew — right into the first corpse’s eye.

It staggered, took a step back… and kept running.

Marcus paled.

“Try the heart!” Elos yelled.

Second arrow — right in the chest. Same effect.

“Arrows aren’t working!” Marcus rasped.

“Then we hold the bridge!” Kris barked.

Only three could stand side by side on the narrow wooden span.

Everything now depended on that single point.

Garrel, Kris, and Elos took the front. The rest of us stood two steps behind, blades drawn.

The flesh-eaters hissed and wailed, shoving past each other to squeeze onto the bridge.

They weren’t thinking. They weren’t afraid.

They didn’t care who fell first.

All that mattered was flesh.

“READY!” Kris roared.

***

The slaughter began.

The wardens’ blades moved like lightning, hacking into the flesh-eaters and tearing them apart — but these things didn’t stop. Even headless, they clawed at armor with rotting fingers, twitching like broken puppets. Some fell into the river and tried to climb the slick rocks — and there they met us: me, Madeline, Helle, and Marcus.

We figured it out fast — heads. Only full decapitation stopped them. Not instantly, but eventually.

Filth, blood, rot. It clung to our faces, seeped through clothing — but no one cared anymore.

The air was thick with moans and gasps — pain and madness became part of this place.

Hell of an adventure, huh?

Somehow, we managed to drop nearly half of the bastards. The rest were still piling onto the bridge, held back by Elos and Marcus.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Marcus had taken over for Kristin — her armor was shredded, her wounds deep. I replaced Garrel — he’d taken the worst of it, being in front from the start.

Helle pulled the captain back and started tending to her, but Kristin snatched a flask of healing balm, gritted her teeth, and snapped,

“Arrows — knees! Knock the freaks into the water if you can!”

It was brutal just holding the line, but we still managed to take a few more down.

And then... it happened.

One of the headless corpses, falling, grabbed Elos by the leg and yanked him into the river.

He barely had time to scream before vanishing into the mire of limbs and filth.

Madeline lunged toward the sound.

She pulled him out with a force that didn’t match her size — then, in one clean swing, her blade sliced through the creature’s neck.

The body twitched... then sank.

But she didn’t move.

Her fingers tightened around the hilt.

And without a word, she dove in after him.

“What is she doing?!” I yelled, but no one answered.

Madeline was swimming. Straight for the other side.

Marcus and I barely noticed — we were being swarmed by five of them. Marcus took a hit. Claws ripped across his temple and sent him flying. Elos caught him just in time.

I was left alone. Backpedaling. Blocking.

Helle threw herself into the fray to help. We were exhausted. Every swing cost more than the last.

I slipped. Hit the ground.

Helle cut down a creature and offered her hand. I grabbed it, rose fast, dagger in hand.

And then…

Madeline.

She tore into them like a storm of steel.

One leap — one sliced in half.

Blade in both hands — two more lost their heads in a single strike. Their twitching corpses dropped into the river.

The last two suffered worse. She shoved one into the other and screamed,

“DAMN ROTTING FILTH!”

Her sword impaled them both in one motion, piercing ruined torsos clean through.

One of them, before dying, caught her blindfold. The cloth tore free — she staggered back.

Silence.

Only the sound of ragged, almost animal breathing.

Madeline pulled her sword free and hooked it to her belt. Her face — streaked with blood, sweat, and decay — burned with fury. Her eyes, clouded in that pale film, trembled faintly.

It felt like she was staring at the carnage. Seeing it in her own way.

She’d always been seen as strong. Controlled. A warden who didn’t need help.

But now…

Now she looked like something else entirely.

Not just a fighter. Not just a guardian.

She was raw rage, wrapped in iron discipline.

I couldn’t stop watching her.

Her chest rose and fell. Her hand still gripped her sword, like her body hadn’t realized it was over.

But what was happening in her mind?

What was she feeling — was she feeling?

Who was I looking at right now?

A friend? The girl I grew up with?

Or someone else entirely?

Truth is...

I had no idea what to say.

***

We gathered under the nearest wide-branched tree, setting up a small camp to catch our breath and treat the wounded. Kristin, Garrel, and Marcus had taken the worst of it. Those of us with lighter injuries helped patch them up. I took first watch and kept an eye on the perimeter.

“The sun’s already going down,” Kristin said, her voice low but steady. “Heading back like this would be a crap idea. We’ll camp here and let everyone lick their wounds.”

She was half-leaning against a tree, trying to find a comfortable position.

“Shifts every few hours. Helle, you’ll relieve Kai when it’s dark.”

“We head back at dawn. Whatever we’re looking for — it’s clearly deeper in the swamp,” she added.

“Got it,” Helle said, not looking up as she worked on Marcus’s clawed-up head.

“No worries,” I said. “Doubt I’ll get any sleep after that party anyway. I’ll keep watch till sunrise.”

Kristin gave me a nod, managing a faint smile through the pain.

“Tomorrow, before we leave the bridge, we haul those corpse freaks out of the river. Last thing we need is their rot poisoning the water.”

We all nodded and got back to what we were doing.

“Hey, sneak,” Garrel groaned in a nasal drawl. “You ever been in a mess like this before, or should we throw you a ‘first blood’ celebration?”

A few wardens chuckled.

I smirked and glanced at Kristin.

“If sparring with Kris counts, then yeah. Been through it. More than once.”

The camp burst into laughter. Someone even winced and grabbed their ribs. Kristin just rolled her eyes and started barking at everyone to shut the hell up.

----------------------------------------

Night fell fast. Darkness wrapped the forest, and over the swamp the fog thickened with the cold air. The first stars lit up the sky, but their light was dim behind the wet veil.

Helle and Elos sat by the fire, talking in low voices. Kristin, Garrel, and Marcus had finally fallen asleep in the tent under the effects of healing draughts.

I paced around the camp, unable to shake the chaos of the last few hours from my head.

Madeline, her armor off, was sewing up her torn clothes. She sat on a log, hands moving with calm, practiced precision — like a slow dance.

Then she spoke.

“They say you held your ground well today.”

I froze for a second.

Didn’t know what to say at first. Tried to gather my thoughts into something that sounded like an answer.

“That was one hell of a test. Wonder what tomorrow’s got waiting for us.”

I looked at her.

She was exhausted, her gear torn up — and still, she carried that strange, quiet grace.

Madeline had tied a fresh band over her eyes, sitting with perfect posture, her head slightly tilted.

I couldn’t stop watching her hands. The way the needle glided, the thread glinting in the firelight.

“The way you tore through those flesh-eaters… was pretty damn incredible,” I said.

She went still. Her hand paused. Then kept moving.

She nodded and motioned for me to sit.

I didn’t argue. Sat down a step away from her.

“To be honest...” Her voice was quiet, almost distant.

“I’m not even sure what came over me in that moment.”

She swallowed a knot in her throat.

“I felt useless. Standing back, doing nothing, while you all were risking your lives in that pit of rotting freaks.

And then I felt angry. Mostly at myself.”

I said nothing.

“I thought… is that all I’m good for?” Her voice dropped further. “Just standing still like some cursed statue at the city gates?”

The fabric in her hands trembled slightly.

“I had to do something,” she whispered.

“You did more than something. You turned the tide,” I said, placing a hand gently on her shoulder.

“You saved all of us. Don’t you dare think you’re not capable, Mads.”

At first, she didn’t react.

Then, slowly, she turned her face toward me. A faint smile touched her lips.

Her fingers moved again. The needle resumed its path.

I stayed a little longer. Just sat there, listening to the night wind, the crackling fire, and the soft rustle of fabric.

Only when I felt she was calmer did I get up and return to my watch.