Chapter 98: Ashes of Hope
Light.
Blinding at first — a piercing brightness Fred and the others hadn't seen in what felt like lifetimes.
They stumbled forward into it, shielding their eyes.
As their vision adjusted, they realized they were standing on the ruins of what had once been a city.
The buildings were nothing but skeletal remains, blackened and broken. Streets lay cracked and deserted, with creeping vines splitting through the concrete like nature's revenge. The air carried the acrid scent of burnt earth and forgotten dreams.
This was not salvation.
This was a graveyard.
Mira clutched Fred's arm, her face pale. "What... happened?"
Fred scanned the horizon, heart sinking. "I think... we've been gone longer than we thought."
---
They moved cautiously through the wreckage, picking their way past twisted metal and shattered glass. Every step echoed in the hollow silence.
There were no birds.
No wind.
Just a crushing, endless stillness.
And then — a whisper.
Fred froze.
The others tensed, drawing their weapons.
Out of the ruins ahead, figures emerged.
At first, Fred thought they might be survivors. But as they drew closer, it became clear: their skin was pale, almost translucent; their eyes sunken and glassy; their movements jerky, unnatural.
They were not alive.
Not truly.
"Stay behind me," Fred ordered.
The creatures — half-human, half-ghost — tilted their heads in eerie synchronization.
One of them rasped, a sound like dry leaves scraping across stone.
"Welcome... back..."
Then they attacked.
---
Fred fought savagely, his blade slicing through the fragile bodies of the creatures — but for every one that fell, two more seemed to crawl from the shadows.
Mira fought beside him, her dagger flashing.
"There's too many!" she shouted.
Fred cursed under his breath. They had escaped one nightmare only to walk straight into another.
Suddenly, a flare of bright, golden light erupted from the broken church tower nearby.
The creatures recoiled, shrieking.
A hooded figure stood atop the steps, holding a staff that burned with an unnatural glow.
"Get inside!" the figure commanded.
Fred hesitated for only a second before nodding.
He grabbed Mira's hand and pulled her toward the church, the others following close behind.
The figure slammed the doors shut behind them, barring them with heavy chains.
Silence fell.
Fred turned, panting, ready for a new fight if necessary.
The hooded figure lowered the staff — and pulled back the hood.
It was a woman.
Tall, with sharp, almost regal features. Her silver hair fell in waves around her shoulders, and her dark eyes were filled with a hard, bitter wisdom.
"You're lucky," she said. "Another minute out there, and you would've joined the rest of the Lost."
Fred straightened. "Who are you?"
The woman's lips twisted into a wry smile.
"Someone who used to believe in saving this world," she said. "Until I realized it didn't want to be saved."
---
The woman introduced herself as Selene.
She explained that the world outside had fallen to something called The Bloom — a corruption born from the collapse of the Cradles. When the barriers fell, twisted souls escaped into the world and began infecting the living. Civilizations crumbled. Hope died.
Only a few scattered enclaves of resistance remained, hidden and isolated.
And even they were losing.
Fred listened, his fists clenching tighter with every word.
"So you're saying... all of this happened because of what was inside the Cradle?" he asked bitterly.
Selene shrugged. "Cause and effect are tricky. Maybe it was already broken before you ever stepped inside. Maybe you just sped it up."
Mira stepped forward, voice trembling. "There has to be something we can do. We can't just... give up."
Selene's gaze softened slightly — almost imperceptibly.
"There's a place," she said after a long pause. "A sanctuary. Deep underground. They call it The Root. If there's any hope left, it's there."
Fred nodded grimly.
"Then that's where we're going."
Selene's smile was sad.
"You'll wish you hadn't."
---