Nevermore had the sun shone since the day it began. Months it had been, and yet, not a single ray passed through those heavy clouds. The dark skies overhead mirrored the minds behind the distant eyes that peered up.
Corpses laid strewn out across the land. Grey, thin flesh clung to their yellowed bones. Crusty black spots stained their clothes and the surface they died upon. Maggots filled their once lively eyes. Insects buzzed and swarmed around what the vultures left behind.
These were not the remains of the innocent or the good, however. These were the accomplishments of the few. The results of valiant efforts made by valiant men and women. Unfortunately, most of those men and women no longer remained. Not as they were, at least.
Alongside the innocent and good, those men and women walked as the undead.
No one knew how or where it all began. Even to the greatest minds this remained the greatest mystery. Theories were made, hypotheses thrown about, but no conclusions.
There was no time. Cities of all sizes were overrun within days. Nor was there silence. How could one think when screams clawed at their ears and piles of bodies rammed against their doors?
Hiding was all that could be done. Their numbers were too great. For all the undead that were slain, that number did not even total to be a fraction. Not only that, but those that managed to fell an undead only did so by luck. No one truly knew how to stop the undead. If they did, they had not the chance to share. For there was not enough time.
To say all hope was lost was not to over exaggerate. Across all realms civilizations collapsed. No man, no woman, no child, no race was spared. By the undead or living. Only the kindest of hearts or the most foolish offered a hand. One could say to live was to condemn oneself to doom. To deny the inevitable, thereby delaying it and prolonging their suffering.
Despite all this, there still remained one man. Although he was no sun - incapable of bringing light to the world or the different realms - he could perhaps share what he had with others. Through them and their combined efforts, perhaps then, light could shine once more.
The child ran beside her mother and father. She wished as much air filled her lungs as fear filled her eyes. Behind the three sprinted an insurmountable number of undead. More added to their numbers as the chase continued. Not to be surprised, as their strained screeches could be heard from across half the city.
The family had heard word from the first survivor they had seen since before the invasion. He spoke of safe refuge in the city palace. Supposedly, survivors along with many guards and even one of the church's magistrates took shelter there. A safe refuge was tempting, but not enough to leave the confines of one's home, especially since the undead knew not of their presence. Plenty of food to last nearly a year, however, was more than enough reason.
More than enough to push them out the door. More than enough to regret it. Even more so after a wizard joined the chase. Not just any wizard either, as if one did not already spell doom, but an elf.
Even the child knew their end was imminent.
The three managed to cut a corner and break line-of-sight. While the core of the group lost them, the wizard did not. It chased vehemently, eyes split open, mouth torn into a gaping hole, tattered robe flailing behind. Roaring orbs of flames hurled from its staff. Explosions erupted from the rooftops above, walls beside, and ground beneath.
Breaking line-of-sight momentarily and managing a small lead, the family barged into an empty home where they took refuge. Efforts to remain silent in hopes of the undead passing by went unsuccessful. For the wizard had seen where they went. Its screams were sure to bring the rest of the horde. Collapsing the front with an explosion was sure to keep its prey from leaving.
"Daddy, what are we going to do?" the child sobbed, burying her face into her father's stomach.
"Just stay close, dear. Stay close," he told her, wrapping a protective arm around her.
More explosions fired off. More undead closed in from far off. The three backed further until they could no more. In each other's arms, they quivered in utter fear.
Then, all was silent, save for their breaths. Even the distant screeches made little noise when all that mattered were the slow footsteps out front.
"Gods save us," the mother whispered.
Suddenly, a heavy thud hit the ground. The three inside paused. No one made a sound. They stared through a small opening in the debris. That was all that allowed view to the outside. The family waited with bated breath. Until...
"Hello in there!" A chippy young man called, springing up into view. He peered in as much as he could. "The Mayas' home, huh? Not a bad pick if you were out shopping for junk." He chuckled as he surveyed the interior, reminiscing on the past. His attention quickly returned to the family of three. "You're okay to run now. The wizard's dead," he assured with a radiant smile. "There's a door in the back just over there to your right. You can leave through there. If you're headed for the palace, stay off the main roads. Stay in the alleys and keep walking straight from here. Past Hernon's shop you'll want to make a right. Continue until you see a rickety old shack, then make a left. You'll see a grand ol' pointy rooftop. Go towards that and you'll be upon the palace in no time. Round to the back and they'll let you in. Make sure no undead see you."
"What about you?" the child asked.
Distant screeches echoed closer. Undead scrambled into view. Glancing their way only for a moment, the young man turned back with a smile. "Nothing to worry about, love! I'll keep them distracted. You folk just make it there safe! Remember. Straight through the alleys. Hernon's. Old shack. Then pointy rooftop. Back of the palace. Good day!"
At that the young man was off. Running in the opposite direction, he made sure to shout and flail his arms wildly to draw the undead. His rowdy actions drew more attention than initially anticipated. Undead or not, few would have been able to resist chasing him down for the infuriating banging of his sword and shield, along with his incessant shouting.
On the bright side, the family's chances of encountering more undead lessened the longer he kept up his antics. Most would have quaked in their boots were they he. For half the city would be upon him in quick time. Fortunately for the young man, he knew the city of Klisely well.
Quick on his feet, the young man broke line-of-sight around corners repeatedly and abruptly. His actions caused the hordes of undead to disperse many times until they were no more than several per group. Just as dispersed as the hordes, same were contraptions and traps made by the young man. An outsider would think the city a place of torture with all the ropes and chains. Or perhaps even a place of bauchery. While the young man was not opposed to the latter, that was not the case.
Before long he was free of the ravenous undead. Breaking line-of-sight one last time, he triggered a contraption, creating a decoy. Bottles dropped and shattered elsewhere, causing enough noise to draw the undead away. With the allotted time he quickly ducked into a hole in a wall. One of which he prepared himself, stocked with enough supplies to last several days.
The young man covered the entrance with his shield and sighed a breath of relief. He melted into his makeshift bed. The hole was fit only for dogs, but it was enough for him. Never was he a man of material. Nor had he ever wished to be, so long as he remained at peace with himself.
Although a woman by his side wouldn't hurt. Especially during these times. She'd need to be capable to keep with him, though.
Rested as comfortably as could be, all that remained was to wait until the undead lost interest and wandered away. Though frighteningly beastly they were, every beast possessed a dormant state. It didn't take long for them to turn into shambling lost souls.
The young man closed his eyes even though he needed to get out there again. Traps and contraptions needed rearming. Supplies needed to be got. Most importantly, survivors may have needed saving. For now, he rested. Only for a short moment, though. For a short moment was all his conscience would allow. No matter how battered or tired, he would always return to aid those in need.
Before fading to black, the last thought was of that family. He truly wished the family of three made it to the palace safely.
***
"It's true!" the father insisted. "Odd fella saved us. Killed a wizard, even! Could hardly believe it had I not seen it myself."
No doubt the story was absurd. Killing an undead wizard, purposely drawing the undead's attention, and not to mention, surviving this long alone? Any other listener would have deemed it ramblings of a mad man. The two guards addressing the family of three, however, simply shared knowing glances and slight smirks. They then ushered the three into another room for rest and a meal.
Neighboring the throne room where the family was, the captain guard nudged a rather tall woman built with muscles dense as stone. Having paid no mind to anything but the map atop the table before her, she turned a curious eye his way. Glowing blonde locks elegantly rolled over her shoulder, cascading down her back.
