“I wouldn’t bed a nobile from Ventoso. Have you seen their towers? They must be compensating for something.” - A common joke amongst prostitutes of the Cradelands.

  Martin stared at the towers, their long shadows falling with the fading sun. He wanted to believe that some of the nobili would have provided sanctuary to the people, but the crisis happened so fast that they must have had no time.

  He wanted to believe that. Truly.

  His family had ties to a couple of them. The Hunters and the Lombardis. He vaguely remembered them on holiday when he was a boy. One of them, Johnathan Hunter, had been a friend and business partner of his grandfather’s. His grandfather regarded them quite fondly. Surely such old and distinguished famiglie would be decent enough to help their city. It was their city, too, wasn’t it? Perhaps they simply died, overrun and cornered, their abodes now upright coffins piercing the heavens.

  Martin looked around him. Many old and wounded huddled around fires, the flames fueled by oddly colored wood planks. The artistry of the city burning away. The cittadini looked numb, their eyes empty and sad. One of them, a woman older and more sickly than the others, was shivering. The fire was not enough to warm her. The rags she wore did little to retain heat. Martin walked over to her, removed his overcoat, and gently draped it over her. She turned to face him. Her eyes teared up, but they warmed the slightest bit. She even smiled at him. She still shivered and looked unwell. But for a moment, comfort had returned to her.

  Martin turned to see the children gathering around Petro and playing with him. Two were hanging off his antlers, and many circled around him with glee.

  Martin didn’t understand how people could be so cheerful in such dire times? With so little. With nothing. It disgusted him to see these people in such disrepair; what could compel them to be so happy? Could it be because they’re simply children?

  Petro beckoned him and said, “Your rich upbringing betrays you, Martin.”

  “Indeed. The fact these little ones can see happiness even now, with nothing. I wish I could feel that.”

  “When all you have is nothing, there’s much to go around.”

  “I don’t understand how that helps them. They’ve lost their money, homes, and loved ones, and food is running low.”

  “They’re alive. They still have each other, don’t they? These are the sparks that keep hope intact and keep their futures alive.”

  One of the children, a little girl no older than five winters with dirty brown hair, pulled gently at Petro’s cloak. “Signore Petro, can you tell us another story?”

  Petro beamed. “Gladly! Gather ’round, everybody!” At once, they all sat down. Martin too. “This one is common amongst my people. It is called ‘Be Grateful For What You Have.’”

  Martin snickered. “I guess your people care little for subtlety.”

  Petro glared before continuing, “A long, long time ago, when the world was young. Benelim wanted to explore the world! With the daemons gone and the world restored, they wanted to explore every inch of this new home. The Gods let them go where they wished. They said, ‘Go forth, enjoy yourselves. Remember that your life is a gift, and be grateful for what you have.’

  “As the years went by, some Benelim traveled up to the mountains. The road was narrow and treacherous. Giant rocks sometimes barred the way. They made a little town upon the peaks. It was small but respectable, and their lifesongs held no shame. But they wanted more. To grow their city and scale higher and higher heights. They hatched an idea! Many Benelim look like animals, in whole or in part, but none ever sprouted wings!”

  Martin grew tense. He didn’t like where this was going. The kids were fully absorbed in the story.

  “They went to Venatus, Lord of the Hunt. He who held domain over all the world’s beasts. ‘Venatus, Lord of the Hunt, will you please give our people wings?’ The God thought for a moment and shook His head. ‘I cannot do that, for if you were meant to have wings, you would have gotten them by now. It is too dangerous to change that. You should be grateful for what you have.’ This saddened the Benelim. How would they get their wings now?

  “What about Terra, Lady of the Earth? She who saved them in the first place, who kept them from becoming Maelim. She had helped them before. Surely She would help them again. They went to Her blackened forest. ‘Terra, Lady of the Earth, will you please give our people wings?’ The Goddess thought for a moment and shook her head. ‘I cannot do that, for if you were meant to have wings, you would have gotten them by now. It is too dangerous to change that. You should be grateful for what you have.’ This saddened the Benelim. How would they get their wings now?”

  Martin trembled. Surely this story wasn’t about what he thought it was? The last thing he needed right now was . . . bad memories.

  “What about Caelus, Lord of the Heavens? A God whose domain is the sky! He who created the Great Rukhs to safeguard the heavens. If any being in all the world would take pity on them, surely it would be He. They summoned him on their tallest peak. ‘Caelus, Lord of the Heavens, will you please give our people wings?’ The God thought for a moment and shook His head. ‘I cannot do that, for if you were meant to have wings, you would have gotten them by now. It is too dangerous to change that. You should be grateful for what you have.’ The Benelim were at their wit’s end and stormed off the peak, showing little respect as they did so.

  “The Benelim moped and sighed back to their home. That night a great storm blew into their town. Flashes of lightning lit the skies, and the wind blew with great strength, nearly knocking the roofs off their houses! Thunder echoed amongst the peaks. Whispers could be heard in the breeze, luring them outside, and in the center of this great tempest stood a Goddess.

  “Tempestia, Lady of Discord.”

  Martin’s heart sank.

  “‘I can give you wings,’ She purred, Her voice as soft and gentle as a distant rainfall. ‘The other Gods lie to you. They can give you wings, but They choose not to. They’re afraid of what will happen. Surely such a little change wouldn’t hurt anybody.’ The hearts and minds of the Benelim turned against the Gods. She continued. ‘Give yourselves to Me, bind yourselves to Me. I will give you what you desire as long as you promise to do anything I tell you.’ The Benelim, blinded by what they did not have, agreed. They were not grateful for what they had.

  “The first harpies came to be.”

  Martin closed his eyes, trying to block out the memories. The images violated his mind’s eye. He was trussed up into the air. He could smell the blood and rotting flesh. His breath grew heavy, and he trembled through his sweat.

  “They were jubilant in their newfound freedom. The sky was the limit, and the peaks were theirs! Then, a strange feeling overtook them; they looked down below. There were other Benelim, moving from one city to another. A primal urge took over. A desire for blood. For chaos! They lashed out against them, and not a soul survived the attack. ”

  Martin got up and ran, tears in his eyes. He had to get away, away from the story, away from the nest! Petro kept speaking, but the joy and energy left his voice as he saw Martin flee.

  “The harpies were horrified at what they had just done.”

  …………………………….

  Dawn slowly colored the sky. It beheld a cold morning. Leo yawned as he lumbered into the courtyard. Elizabeth, Martin, and Petro were putting out the campfires with the locals. Annabelle was treating a wound on Marco, her eyes faintly glowing as she laid a hand on his arm.

  Marco bowed and proceeded to the barricade. Others were there, standing at the ready. Most were armed with spears and crossbows; some had polearms and swords. Some wore gambesons and scavenged helmets, but most were unarmored in plain tunics and hats.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  The twins stood still, their eyes watching everything and everyone doing their part.

  “Any word from Etheros?” asked Leo.

  Luna shook her head. She looked stiff, anxious.

  “He’s still locked up in the storage room,” said Annabelle. “He’s been at it all night.”

  “This is still a foolish plan,” grumbled Elizabeth as she poured water on a campfire made from pink timbers and dead leaves. Luna pressed a hand against her temples, taking deep breaths.

  Marco peered ahead, whimpering, “Do we have a backup plan if this doesn’t work out?”

  Everyone turned to him. Leo’s heart sank.

  “No.” Luna frowned. “Why?”

  “Cause we have a lot of undead coming our way!”

  Luna cursed. “How many?”

  “I’m not sure, but there are dozens, at least. I’ve never seen them move so fast!”

  “All hands to the walls!” shouted Luna. At once all the remaining non-disabled men and women took up weapons. They dashed to the wall. Leo and Elizabeth joined them.

  “Annabelle, Martin, stay back with Petro!” ordered Leo.

  He reached the top of the barricade to see a great swarm of death charging toward them. He took a deep breath and drew his sword.

  “I don’t want to kill them,” said Luna. “We might have a way to save them now!”

  Elizabeth grabbed her by the shoulders. “You don’t have a choice unless Etheros finds a way. You have to carry on!” She forced her to look behind them. There were crying children rushing inside the buildings, joined by the slow trots of the elderly. “Think about your people! They’re still alive, and they’re counting on you! We’re all that stand in the undead’s way. You understand?”

  Luna’s eyes were frantic, and tears ran down her cheeks. Leo felt sorry for her. She was still a kid, thrust into a situation that would be hard for an adult to handle. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right.

  “Think about it this way—you’re putting these people out of their misery,” said Leo. “Either way, they’ll be free.”

  Bolts whistled through the air, piercing undead hides and stabbing into their eye sockets. Leo grumbled. Their aim was not as good as his Guardia Grifone, and soon the dead were peppered with bolts, as many missed their mark. “Their heads! Aim for their heads!” barked Leo.

  Blood splattered as the first row of undead were impaled by the spikes. Unbothered by their wounds, they kept moving forward, shoved ahead by the stampede behind them. The wooden points snapped and broke under the pressure, and soon they began pressing up against the barricade.

  Spears poured down upon them. Each stab brought brain matter back up. The bodies slumped to the ground, carpeting the street with their flesh. Corpse after corpse fell, but the bodies were slowly piling up. Soon undead began to climb on top of the mound of dead, clawing and grasping at cittadini.

  Leo decapitated undead with great swipes of his blade, killing them by twos. The twins were at his side. When one stabbed left, the other would stab right. When one blocked an undead’s snarling jaws, the other kicked it away and pierced its skull. They weren’t two fighters. They were one. Elizabeth skewered one of the undead, stabbing through its corneas and brain before punching it away. She hooked another, grappling the creature before flinging it back down. The impact sent dead flesh flying in all directions.

  Others were not so lucky. A crossbowman fired a bolt at point-blank range, but he still missed his mark, hitting the creature’s chest, not its head. He paid for the mistake as the thing bit down on his neck. Another arbalist hit the ground, and grasping rotten fingers, pulled her down to the hungry mouths below. Her screams gave way to the tearing of flesh.

  The wall began to shake as the horde continued to push against the barricade. Leo nearly fell forward into the crowd of undead in front of him. Luna slipped and was saved by Stello and Elizabeth, who caught her arms just in time, the undead inches away from her face. The wood crunched and splintered as the bastion began to break down.

  “Fall back, fall back!” barked Luna.

  The survivors leaped off the wall. Some were too slow, and Leo could only watch as the undead ripped them to shreds. With a sickening crack, the barricade broke apart at last.

  “We could use Etheros right about now,” muttered Leo.

  “Into the buildings!” ordered Elizabeth. She grabbed onto Annabelle and led the survivors inside the apothecary. They began to gather shelves and bookcases to barricade the doors and windows.

  “Come on, hurry up!” barked Leo. With great speed, they emptied the grounds. Leo nodded before turning back toward the undead horde. His eyes widened.

  Luna was still in the courtyard. Stello was by her side, gesturing to the buildings. Leo saw what paused her.

  Among the dead was a short-haired man with tattoos on his arms, the images ruined by his dead skin.

  It was Giani.

  “Luna! Come on!” shouted Leo. Luna turned to him, eyes tear-stained. She looked gaunt, and the fire in her eyes was gone. Even Stello was trying to drag her away.

  Luna shook her head. “I can’t do it. I’m not going to hurt him.”

  “He’s not in there anymore, and Etheros has failed to create the spell. He’s going to kill you!”

  “Then let me die.” She walked toward the dead. Stello tried to pull her back. She turned to her twin. They stared at each other for a long moment. Leo could see the glowing in their respective eyes flickering and flaring. Stello shook his head, but Luna nodded.

  Stello teared up before letting her go. Leo charged in after her. Stello blocked him, shaking his head.

  Luna inched closer and closer to Giani. He growled and shambled toward her, hunger in his gaze. She was serene as she closed her eyes.

  The sky dimmed, and time slowed down. A figure floated in the sky. His eyes glowed bright, and his arms raised. All eyes turned to him, and even the undead paused. Clouds swirled around him as Etheros began to chant. It was deafeningly loud, and the voice inhumanly deep.

  He began to glow golden bright, and a swarm of similarly golden spectral hands launched out of his body. They flew in countless directions, Leo couldn’t see how many arms there were, but there might have been hundreds, nay, thousands! A large torrent of them rolled toward the undead horde. Each hand grabbed onto a member of the undead, including Giani. Like ropes, the hands went taut.

  Etheros’ incantations took on a new pitch, and the hands began to pull. Etheros gritted his teeth, and he was drenched in sweat. His breathing was heavy. And yet he still chanted. Inch by inch, the hands pulled out. It was hard to make out at first, but the golden hands had each grabbed onto something. Dark, blacker than black, reminding Leo of the visions from the party, the black essence of the daemon.

  Etheros’ eyes flickered, and he groaned in pain. For a moment, the pulling stopped and even began to recede. Etheros’ chanting grew louder as if commanding the very heavens themselves. The pulling redoubled, and with a final string of chants, the hands exited the undead corpses, snarling roaring blackened evil in their clutches. The hands clenched into fists, dissolving the darkness into an ethereal mist.

  The storm faded, and the sun shone through. Etheros’ eyes drooped, and he fell from the sky. Leo gasped and rushed to him, catching him just before he hit the ground. Leo pressed a hand against his chest. He was alive, but his breathing was faint.

  The others slowly crept their way outside.

  “Did it work?” whispered Annabelle.

  All eyes turned to Luna as she approached Giani.

  “We’ll find out soon enough,” murmured Elizabeth.

  The zombies stood, some nearly catatonic, and others drooped like puppets without strings. They shook their heads as if trying to wake themselves from a dream.

  “G-Giani?” whispered Luna. Giani growled, his head shaking in discomfort. He pushed Luna to the ground. She crawled back as he loomed over her. “Giani, it’s me! It’s Luna! Fight it! The daemon is gone!”

  Giani paused. The blackness in his eyes faded. “Lu-na?” His voice was raspy, and his lips strained to move.

  Luna smiled, tears in her eyes. “Yes, it’s me!”

  Giani looked at his rotting hands as if seeing himself for the first time, then looked around at all the carnage and the dead. Their city in ruins. “What have we done?” He fell to his knees, head in his hands. Luna crawled to him. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me—”

  “Look at me.” Luna grasped his head, ignoring the grime and blood leaking onto her hands. Giani’s face was still rotten, and his eyes still faded, still dead. And yet life flickered, deep in the pupils, Luna could see it with her Soulsight. “It wasn’t you. It was the daemons. They did this to you.” Luna peered over him, looking at the other zombies starting to come to. “To all of you! You’ve had no control.”

  “A-and now we do?” murmured Giani, his voice still straining.

  “Yes! Now you do!”

  “But do they still hunger?” whispered Elizabeth as she and Annabelle slowly approached.

  Giani turned to them, tilted his head, and stared for a long moment. Elizabeth pushed Annabelle behind her and pointed her guisarme.

  “No. I don’t.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” muttered Leo as Etheros started to come to.

  “Did it work?” rasped Etheros. Leo helped him to his feet and pointed at the spectacle. Undead slowly fettered toward survivors, both sides equally cautious of each other and weary. Eventually, they all started talking, the undead slowly remembering who they were and the bloodlust in their eyes gone. “Oh, praise Adam.”

  “She was right,” said Petro. “A pity we can’t do that to the ghouls.”

  “I don’t think I could ever do that spell again,” Etheros groaned. He would have toppled over had Petro and Leo not held onto him. “The spell was crude, and I had to improvise. I tried to go as far as possible, reaching as many undead as possible. I don’t know how far it reached.”

  “We’ll find out soon; I’d wager.”

  Leo tilted his head. “I don’t understand you people. You achieve revolutionary, groundbreaking things, and yet you criticize yourself like it’s a recipe for a restaurant! You saved an entire city from ruin, and who knows how much more! That is all that matters. In fact,” Leo gently guided Etheros to the others and continued, “everyone! Allow me to introduce you to Etheros. A powerful Godshard, a stranger from another land, and the man whose spell has freed you!”

  The undead cheered, at least as much as they could, with rotting limbs and raspy vocal cords. Cittadini applauded with them.

  Etheros grinned and bowed. “I merely practice the teachings of Adam, as any Godshard should!”

  “There’s one big thing we’re forgetting,” grumbled Elizabeth.

  Luna frowned. “And what’s that?”

  “Now what?”