Ash and Embers

Ash drifted on the wind, settling over the barricade like a shroud. The fires from the night's battle still smoldered, sending thin trails of smoke into the gray sky. Leo leaned against the wall, his machete hanging from his belt, the rune still faintly glowing.

His arms ached, every muscle trembling with exhaustion. Blood—his and the darkness's—stained his clothes. He let out a slow breath and surveyed the courtyard below.

Survivors moved like ghosts among the wreckage, bandaging wounds, gathering the fallen. Their voices were low, almost reverent, as if afraid to disturb the quiet that had finally come.

Kara crouched beside a young fighter, a gash along the boy's arm. She tied the bandage with rough hands, her jaw set. She didn't look at Leo, but he saw the tightness in her shoulders.

Aícha moved from one wounded to another, her staff's glow barely more than a candle now. She murmured words of comfort—some in languages Leo couldn't place—but her eyes were distant, shadowed.

Jarek leaned against the barricade, his axe propped beside him. His face was a mask of fatigue, his eyes bloodshot. "We survived," he rumbled, voice rough. "But at what cost?"

Leo nodded, his mouth dry. "Too many," he said.

Rhys limped to his side, his rifle slung across his back. "The people are scared," he said. "They saw what the darkness can do. What it can make us do."

Nara's eyes were cold as she cleaned her blade. "Fear makes people dangerous," she said. "They'll look for someone to blame."

A shout rose near the barricade gates—a voice ragged with desperation. Leo turned, his hand on his machete.

A small crowd had gathered around a survivor, his clothes torn and bloodstained. His eyes darted wildly, lips cracked from thirst. "They let it in!" he shouted, pointing at Leo's team. "They brought the darkness here!"

Kara's head snapped up, her face a mask of fury. "We fought for you!" she barked. "We bled for you!"

The man's hands trembled. "But you brought strangers in!" he cried. "And now the darkness is stronger than ever!"

Rhys's voice was a hard edge. "We're all strangers here," he said.

Nara's hand hovered near her blade. "If you want a fight—"

Leo stepped between them, his machete at his side but his voice calm. "Enough," he said. "We've all lost something. We're all afraid." He met the man's eyes. "We didn't bring the darkness. We fought it. We'll keep fighting it. But if we turn on each other now, it wins."

A hush fell over the crowd, the man's breathing ragged. His eyes dropped to the ground. "I… I just want to survive," he whispered.

Leo's hand tightened on his machete. "We all do," he said. "But we won't survive by tearing each other apart."

The crowd slowly dispersed, leaving behind the brittle quiet of the aftermath.

Leo turned back to his team, his eyes tired but resolute. "Get some rest," he said. "Tomorrow, we plan our next move."

Jarek's axe rested heavily against his shoulder. "You think the darkness will give us that long?" he muttered.

Leo's jaw tightened. "I don't know," he said. "But we'll be ready."

The fires burned low, casting a dim glow over the barricade. The survivors huddled around the embers, voices hushed. Even the children's laughter had faded, replaced by the brittle silence of the newly scarred.

Kara paced near the east wall, her boots scraping the stone with every step. "They're afraid," she muttered. "Afraid of the dark—and of us."

Leo nodded, his eyes on the small groups that clustered together, speaking in quick, worried tones. "They've seen what the darkness can do," he said. "But they don't know what we've done to fight it."

Jarek settled onto a crate, his axe balanced across his knees. "They're right to be scared," he growled. "Fear keeps a blade sharp."

Rhys approached, his face pale under the smoke-streaked sky. "There's talk," he said quietly. "They think we're… infected."

Aícha's staff glowed faintly, her eyes weary. "They think we've brought the darkness here," she said. "And maybe they're not wrong."

Leo's brow furrowed. "We've fought it," he said. "We've bled to keep them safe."

Nara's blade glinted in the firelight. "And fear doesn't care about the truth," she said.

A shout rose from the shadows—a voice edged with desperation. "I saw them," it called. "Near the east barricade! Talking with… something."

Leo's head snapped up. "Who?"

The survivor's face was pale, eyes darting. "I—I don't know. Shadows. Maybe it was the darkness. Maybe it was one of them."

The crowd shifted, eyes turning to Leo's team. Accusations hung in the air like the smoke.

Kara's voice was cold as steel. "This is madness," she hissed. "We've been out there fighting, not hiding in the shadows."

Aícha's staff pulsed. "Fear makes monsters," she said.

Rhys's jaw tightened. "We need to find out who started this," he said. "If there's a traitor—"

Nara's hand found her blade. "We'll root them out," she said.

Leo's machete hung at his side, its rune dark. "No," he said firmly. "No witch hunts. That's what the darkness wants—chaos."

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut. Every survivor's eyes shifted, glancing at one another.

Jarek's growl was low. "Then how do we find them?"

Leo's gaze swept the barricade, lingering on every face. "We watch," he said. "We listen. And when the darkness comes again—we'll see who stands with us."

The survivors slowly drifted back to their fires, but the air still held the sharp edge of suspicion.

Leo turned to his team, his voice quiet but hard. "We can't fight the darkness if we're tearing each other apart," he said.

Aícha's staff glowed faintly, her face drawn. "Then we'd better hope the darkness doesn't come again tonight," she whispered.

But in his gut, Leo knew it would.

The night air was sharp, carrying the tang of old smoke and something fouler—something that crawled beneath the skin.

Leo's machete lay across his knees as he crouched near the barricade's central fire, eyes sweeping the darkness beyond. The survivors' whispers had grown quieter, but suspicion lingered like poison.

Jarek's boots crunched in the gravel as he approached. "Something's wrong," he rumbled. "The night feels… heavy."

Kara moved up beside them, her rifle braced. "Like it's waiting for us," she said, voice low.

Aícha's staff pulsed faintly. "I sense it too," she whispered. "The darkness is close."

A shape darted from the shadows—a young runner, breathless. "They're coming!" he cried, eyes wide with terror. "The darkness—it's here!"

Leo sprang to his feet, his blade flashing. "Positions!" he shouted.

From the east wall came a shriek—a raw, tearing sound that scraped the soul. Leo's heart slammed in his chest. "Move!" he barked.

Jarek roared, his axe raised high. "Bring them on!"

But even as the team surged forward, Leo saw something—someone—moving among the shadows near the gate. A figure hunched, cloak drawn tight, one hand pressed to the wall.

Aícha's staff flared. "There!" she cried. "Near the gate!"

Kara's rifle swung in a fluid arc, tracking the shape. "Identify yourself!" she snapped.

The figure turned, face hidden in the gloom. "You… you don't understand," the voice trembled. "They promised me… they promised…"

Leo's breath caught. The voice was familiar.

Rhys stepped forward, his rifle lowered in shock. "No," he whispered. "It can't be."

The figure straightened, pulling back the hood. Leo's heart clenched. It was one of their own—a guard from the inner courtyard. His eyes glistened black as coal.

"I didn't want to," he gasped, tears streaming down his cheeks. "But they were too strong. They said they'd spare me—if I let them in."

Kara's finger twitched on the trigger. "You let them through our walls?" she spat.

The guard fell to his knees, sobbing. "I didn't mean to—"

A shape lunged from the darkness—a shadow-thing that struck the traitor down with a hiss of black ichor. The man's scream was cut short as the darkness enveloped him.

Leo roared, his machete flashing. "To arms!"

Shadows poured over the barricade like a living tide. Jarek's axe rose and fell in a blur, Kara's rifle spat defiance, Aícha's staff flared with desperate light.

Leo's breath was fire in his chest. "We hold the line!" he shouted.

The darkness screamed, a sound that clawed at the edges of sanity. Rhys's rifle cracked, Nara's blade danced.

And above it all, Leo's voice rose—a challenge to the night itself. "We do not fall!"

The barricade shook with every blow, the air thick with blood and ash.