A Few Days Ago...
A delicious scent wafted through the house, winding through cracks and entering rooms as the pot of soup atop the fireplace bubbled and stirred with an appetizing look. A hearty soup topped with meats from many different animals, along with spices grown from a wyvern's manure. The staple of the Fryryn household.
"This smell... my favorite!"
Elizabeth Fryryn, an aspiring mage, slipped the history book she was reading beneath her bed, tucking it away to join the stacks of other books. This familiar and delectable scent that stuck to her nose was a rare one, only reserved for birthdays and special occasions.
Walking along the walls and trailing a finger along it's surface, Elizabeth began to wonder why her mother cooked such a commemorative meal. "Hmm. It isn't my birthday nor my brother's... And it isn't mother's, hers was a few weeks ago..."
Tapping a finger against her chin in thought, a sudden spark of a nostalgic memory surfaced in her mind. The hazy image of a kind-looking, spindly man wearing glasses causing her to stifle a giggle. "...Ah, now I remember."
"Father's birthday!"
Bounding out the door with a smile on her face, Elizabeth approached her mother, who was stirring a large pot above a fire pit. The delicious smell more prominent the closer she was, causing her mouth to water.
"Eli, dear... would you give your father the flowers? That rascal of a brother of yours went out to play with his friends instead." Elizabeth's mother, a tall, mature woman spoke through gritted teeth, before breaking out into a sigh. Boys will be boys after all.
"On it!" With a smile that radiated innocence, Elizabeth picked up the colorful bouquet laid out on a window sill. It was made up of many different types of poppies, lilies, and whatever other flower Elizabeth plucked along during her walks around the village. It was disorganized, abrupt, yet as vibrant and eccentric as her father was. A bouquet that perfectly described the man.
It was a quiet day in the village. Patches of clouds kept the worst of the sun's heat away, with lingering puddles from last night's rain churning from the stomps of the passing oxen.
"Eli! Off to visit your old man?" A familiar voice called out, making her look over her shoulder. Elizabeth smiled as she recognized the man behind the butcher shop. An old family friend, who helped her home stay afloat through particularly harsh times.
"Yep! Want me to tell him you said hello?"
Gerard gave her a nod. "Would be very much appreciated. I would go say hello myself, but the shop's busy." Despite his earlier positivity, Elizabeth couldn't help but notice something flashing through Gerard's eyes. Worry. But why? What was it that made him, an ex-adventurer, give off such an uncomfortable feeling?
"Something got the merchants passing by the village spooked. It's like they're running away from something nasty..."
Gerard then caught himself. Sharing uneasy rumors to a child? Really? What was he doing? Shaking away his slightly off expressions, Gerard put on the best smile he could muster. A child like Elizabeth shouldn't be worried about the problems of adults. "But on the bright side, the fat wallets they bring are buying up everything I have in storage—! So I'm practically swimming in gold right now!"
Elizabeth nodded, returning the smile, but not before her expression turned into a troubled one for the briefest of moments. "...I see... Well then, see you later uncle!"
Turning her focus back to the trampled paths of the village, Elizabeth continued on the familiar route to her father's, passing by memorable areas her and her brother used to frequent along with their friends.
It was a small village, so small infact it warranted no name. Why would anyone name it? It wasn't on any notable trade routes nor did it have any mines nearby. No gifted soil to speak of, nor any ruins to explore in the nearby forests. The village itself didn't even exist a decade ago.
Life was that simple in the village. Farming, hunting, and logging, being the only sources of work. Some may call life here mundane, others impoverished, but did that affect the young girl? No, not at all. Elizabeth liked it when things were simple. Since simple meant less problems in life.
As the path Elizabeth followed became less and less marked by apparent trails from people, with the houses and fences growing further and further apart, she followed a rudimentary stone pathway that led up a grassy hill.
"Whew... still can't get used to all this walking... sorry I'm late, dad!"
Approaching the lone tree atop the hill, Elizabeth flashed a smile in it's direction. The tree, still a sapling compared to the grand oaks in the nearby forests, was as old as Elizabeth herself. But what made a warm feeling bubble up in her mind wasn't her shared age with the tree, but the reason behind it's location.
Her father planted this oak the day she was born. Emphasizing not only her very life, but the resilience and persistence of her soul. After all, Elizabeth was born as a rather weak baby, so the fact that she was still standing, being able to place a hand on her special tree's bark, meant that her soul was a powerful one.
But there was one last thing that made the tree feel even more special, like it was a part of her.
"...Here, dad. Sorry I couldn't get you those orchids you loved, the merchant who sold them never came back .."
Protected by the tree's thin canopy, as rays of sunlight shone onto it's rough texture, the unmistakable shape of a gravestone laid bare, surrounded by the tree's roots. It's gray silhouette was hued by the bouquet laid down beside it, joining dozens of other flowers and petals scattered around it. The passage of time kind enough to not disturb the calm light of the candles lit atop the grave.
"...I miss you."
"...By the way, Uncle Gerard said hello, dad! He didn't really change much after you were gone, but I guess he did grow a bit fatter and balder!" Elizabeth giggled at the thought, washing away the longing to hear her father's voice once more. To just listen to his overbearing and useless questions.
"Mom cooked your favorite today as well, it smelled as delicious as you probably remember!"
"And the book you bought me, the one about magic, was so cool...! I want to be able to cast spells too! And also, I think it was last week if I remember correctly, but there was this..."
—————
As the last embers of the candles finally lost their light, Elizabeth wiped a tear running down her cheek. She couldn't help it, even though hours had already passed, there was still so much she wanted to tell her father. So many plans about the future and so many ideas that would help the village. If only time would stopped... just this once. That was all she wished for today.
But despite her reluctance, Elizabeth knew it was time to go. Her mother was probably worried sick by now, and is about to send her brother, Ben, to fetch her any moment now.
Yet, despite the rational part of her mind ordering her to return home, her feet were still stuck in place. Weighed down by an unexplainable force. "...Dad... I... I need to go now."
"You might feel lonely, but I promise I'll return. With Ben, with Mom... and who knows? Perhaps with someone special in my heart as well..."
Her voice started to waver. She could feel water building up in the corners of her eyes. Elizabeth was never the best at saying goodbye after all... And she didn't even get the chance to say goodbye when her father passed.
"...Remember what you said to me? When me and Ben were all curled up in your arms, as mom hummed a lullaby...?
"When times are tou—"
Gwaaarggh!
Before Elizabeth could react, something bit down onto her neck. A nightmarish being of crazed eyes and insatiable hunger. Blood spurted all over the gravestone, staining the once pristine surface with a layer of fresh, oozing blood.
"Mom...! Ben! Someone help! D-Daddy!"
Behind her struggling form, as the undead feasted on her, hundreds of these same creatures ran along the roads and fields of the village, converging at the inhabited rows of houses. Like monstrous, starving ants scuttering along, faintly illuminated by the dim light of the setting sun, the nameless village would be soon drenched in a river of blood and screams.
—————
"...Wait here."
Raising his fist up, Damien stopped his men at the edge of the tree line, taking the chance to creep forward with his three Lieutenants. As the rest of his men watched them with wary eyes as they inched forward, moving from cover to cover, they eventually managed to crawl near enough where they could see figures shambling about the empty streets.
"...I count around thirty walking about. Fifty if you count the ones on the outskirts... Possibly more inside the houses." Jonah said with bated breath, his words barely above a whisper, as he held his spear tightly.
"We should guess around a hundred then..." Malachi added, his finger twitching, just waiting for the moment one of the infected wandered too close. "Who knows how many are hiding in the darkness between the houses."
Nodding at their words, Micah looked over his shoulder at Damien, who gripped his zweihander in anticipation. "Orders, sir?"
"...Not worth it."
Surprised by his unexpected words, the three Lieutenants unconsciously loosened their grip on their weapons. Their initial thoughts on Damien was one of brash, yet youthful vigor, eager to kill as many infected as possible and save this world as the brave and shining hero. But here was that same young man, who assessed the scene with a critical look in his eyes, a wisdom beyond his years.
"While it would be nice... just think of how much gold this will fetch us, I don't want to risk you guys for something I can always get later."
Meeting their gaze, the Lieutenants could barely make out their leader's sharp yellow eyes through the slits of his helmet. "We'll retreat for now. But if there's any strays, we pick them off if we can—"
With a sudden jerk of his head, Damien peered out into the darkness, his eyes locked onto something. The three Lieutenants were surprised once again by their superior's abrupt actions, as they regained their tight grip on their weapons. Following his gaze, their eyes all widened with various emotions. Pity, Joy, Shock... but the most prominent of all.... Hope.
"Sir..." Micah began, a smile creeping up on his face. Barely noticeable yet still unmistakable, the faint glow of a light source filled the shape of a distant second-story window. But that wasn't the what made their minds race with thoughts.
It was the silhouette of a person waving at them, visible in the very same faint light, pointing at their direction. And seemingly, quietly, trying to catch their attention.
"...Change of plans." Damien muttered, as he looked around their general area. Seeing it was clear, Damien then slowly stood up just enough to stand above the fallen tree they were hiding behind, and waved back.
"Tell the troops to get ready. It's time to do our job."