Chapter 2 : Orc attack

I lurch to my feet, legs trembling beneath me as I fight to regain balance. My vision swims, blurry with tears and the sheer force of the panic surging through my veins. Everything around me feels like it's collapsing—walls, the ceiling, reality itself. My mind can't keep up with the pounding rhythm of my heart, which feels like it's about to burst from my chest.

*The kids.*

My kids are still inside. That one thought anchors me in this nightmare. There's still a chance. There has to be.

Without thinking, I lurch forward. My legs are weak, unsteady from the overwhelming shock of what's happening, but I force them to move. I stumble through what used to be the front yard—now nothing more than scorched earth and broken debris. The smell of burning wood, fabric, and something else—something metallic and sharp—chokes the air around me. My mind doesn't register it fully. All I can focus on is reaching them.

I crash into the door, barely pausing long enough to force it open. The front room is in shambles. Furniture is overturned, scattered across the floor like broken toys. The walls are blackened with soot and char, and parts of the ceiling have collapsed, revealing jagged beams hanging precariously above. It's like a bomb went off, and in some sick way, I guess one did.

But beyond the destruction, beyond the devastation, I hear them.

Faint. Terrified. Screams.

My heart seizes in my chest. *Tommy. Katie.*

I don't think. I can't afford to. I move on instinct, rushing through the wreckage, tripping over fallen furniture, my feet slipping on debris. Every muscle in my body burns as I tear through the ruins of what was once our home, but the pain barely registers.

The stairs are ahead of me, looming like some impossible challenge, creaking and groaning with the weight of the house pressing down. I take them two at a time, my legs protesting with every step, but I don't care. I can't care. There's no time.

Their screams are louder now, piercing through the thick, suffocating air. Tommy's voice, raw and filled with terror, echoes in my mind.

"Dad! Help!"

I push myself harder, sprinting down the hallway as fast as my legs will carry me. The red light from outside filters through the broken windows, casting everything in a hellish glow. The floor beneath my feet trembles, rumbling like the earth itself is ready to swallow us whole. Dust falls in soft clouds from the ceiling above, but I barely notice it.

*I'm coming. I'm coming. Please… hang on.*

I reach their room at the end of the hall. The door is half-open, hanging crookedly from its hinges. My breath catches in my throat. I shove it with my shoulder, barreling inside, desperate. My vision tunnels, and everything around me blurs into one singular focus—my children. I have to save them.

And then I stop.

My whole body locks up, freezing as if the world itself has come to a standstill.

For a second—just a second—I can't process what I'm seeing. My brain refuses to make sense of it. It's too… surreal. Too monstrous.

The room is ruined. The walls are cracked and split, the floor scorched with deep black burns that cut through the wood like veins of some twisted disease. The bed has been flipped over, the mattress torn open, spilling its insides across the floor. Toys and clothes are scattered everywhere, but none of that matters. None of that even registers.

It's what's in the center of the room that paralyzes me.

Two massive creatures, unlike anything I've ever seen before, stand over my children. They are nightmarish, hulking beasts, their bodies twisted and contorted, covered in jagged armor that seems to be fused into their skin. Their flesh is the color of dried blood—dark, crimson, and raw. Their faces are grotesque, warped with features that seem almost human but too twisted, too monstrous.

I can't breathe. My chest constricts, and my legs threaten to buckle beneath me, but I can't move. My mind is screaming at me to do something—to fight, to run, to *do anything*—but I can't make my body respond. I'm frozen in place, a prisoner to the horror in front of me.

One of the creatures has its hand wrapped around Tommy's throat. My son. His small, fragile neck caught in the iron grip of a monster, his legs kicking helplessly in the air. His face is twisted in terror, his eyes wide, his mouth open in a silent scream.

"Tommy…" The word barely escapes my lips, a hoarse whisper of disbelief. This can't be real. It can't.

The second creature has Katie. My little girl. It's dragging her across the floor like a doll, her body limp, her tiny fingers clawing at the ground as she tries to pull herself free. But she's too small. Too weak. She can't fight it.

"No!" The word explodes from my throat, raw and desperate. My feet move before I can think, launching me toward them. Every cell in my body screams with the instinct to protect, to tear those things apart with my bare hands if I have to.

But I don't make it far.

The orc holding Tommy looks up. Its eyes—black, soulless pits of nothingness—lock onto mine. And then, without hesitation, it jerks its arm.

The sickening crack of bone snaps through the air.

I stop. I freeze. My brain refuses to register what just happened. It's too fast. Too sudden. But then I see it—Tommy's head, twisted at an unnatural angle, his body going limp in the creature's grip. Blood spills from his mouth, dripping down onto the floor, pooling beneath him.

"No…" My voice is a strangled whisper, my heart crumbling into a thousand pieces.

I don't get a chance to scream again. The creature lowers its head and, in one swift, brutal motion, sinks its jagged teeth into Tommy's neck. The sound of flesh tearing, of bone crunching, fills the room. Blood sprays across the floor, across the walls, across me. I can't move. I can't breathe. My body refuses to respond, locked in place by the sheer weight of what I'm seeing.

My son. My baby boy.

He's gone.

Something snaps inside me. A flood of rage, of pure, uncontrollable fury, surges through my veins, igniting every nerve in my body. My vision blurs with red as I let out a guttural roar, launching myself toward the creature with everything I have left. I don't care about the pain. I don't care about anything except making it stop—making the nightmare end.

But before I can reach it, the second orc, the one holding Katie, swats me aside like I'm nothing. Its massive arm slams into my chest with the force of a freight train, sending me crashing into the wall. My body crumples to the floor, my ribs screaming in protest as pain rips through me, but I barely register it. I can't feel anything except the loss. The rage. The grief.

I try to get up, but my arms give out beneath me. I'm too weak. Too broken. I can barely move.

"Dad…" Katie's voice cuts through the fog, soft and filled with fear. I force myself to look up, my vision swimming.

The orc is lifting her by the arm, her tiny body dangling in the air. Her face is pale, her eyes wide and filled with terror. She looks at me—pleading, begging for me to help her.

"Please…"

"No… no…" I can barely speak, my voice shaking as I reach out toward her. But I can't reach her. I can't save her.

The orc's hand tightens around her arm, twisting it with a sickening snap. Her scream cuts through me like a blade, ripping my heart to shreds. And then, before I can even comprehend what's happening, it lowers its head and bites down.

Katie's scream dies instantly as her head is swallowed whole, her body going limp in the creature's grip.

My world collapses.

---

I can't breathe. I can't move. My body feels like it's made of lead, weighed down by the crushing realization of what just happened. Of what I just saw. My children… my babies… they're gone.

Tears stream down my face, hot and endless, blurring my vision. My chest heaves with broken sobs, but the pain in my heart is too much to bear. It's like something inside me has been ripped out, leaving a hollow, gaping wound that will never heal.

"Tommy… Katie…"

Their names fall from my lips, a desperate, broken whisper, but there's no one left to hear them.

I can't stop shaking. My hands claw at the ground, grasping at the air, but there's nothing to hold onto. Nothing to save. My vision swims, the edges.