Hello everyone, Didymus and Deethra here!
We hope you've been enjoying the story so far, and we're deeply grateful for your presence and feedback along the way. A story is meant to be read, and without you, this one would exist only in our minds. So, from the bottom of our hearts, thank you.
Since Chapters 9 and 10 are a bit shorter than usual, we've decided to post them together! We hope you'll enjoy them both!
A quick note as well: we've just posted the first three chapters of one of our other fictions, this time inspired by the horror game At Dead of Night. If you enjoyed the game, are a fan of psychological horror stories, or are simply curious, feel free to visit our profile or search for the story Who Looks Inside.
Happy reading, everyone!
Aisling felt as though time had frozen again, the anxiety heavy in the atmosphere of the Twilight Realm. She walked among the refugees, sitting, disoriented, and lost in a thick silence. The portal had managed to take everyone who had presented themselves to it, preserving them from the horrors they had left behind. However, since their arrival several days ago, it had remained silent, a barely audible promise of safety in a world that continued to collapse.
The young healer made her way through groups of survivors, her thoughts adrift. She extended a shoulder, treated a wound, soothed a burn, each gesture performed without thought. It was a wartime medicine, a survival medicine she had never practiced before. Everyone around her resembled ghosts, their faces darkened by soot and ash, their eyes lost in the void. Tears and sweat had left trails on their faces, like tattoos of despair, silent witnesses to the violence of their escape.
The Watchers flew slowly around them, trying not to frighten them too much. They brought water flasks and strange-colored fruits, sometimes whispering a few soothing words. Some humans responded to them gratefully, others barely dared to lift their eyes, while still others remained lost in the fog of their minds, the violence of what they had experienced keeping them trapped in their burning world.
Aisling stretched as she stood up, her body aching with every movement. She ignored the pain, fearing that the moment she allowed herself a reprieve would be the moment she would fall to the ground, unable to rise until she had exhausted all her tears. She glanced around. Ren was tending to another group, exchanging a few comforting words with those who were able to hear him. Idris stood farther away, still holding Fenja in his arms, gently rubbing her shoulder. The huntress, paralyzed by grief, let silent tears flow without even realizing it.
Everything felt heavy, as if numb in a nightmare they despaired of escaping. The sounds of whispers, cries, and sighs echoed around them, an echo of past suffering and future uncertainties. Aisling closed her eyes for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts and not let herself be swallowed by the wave of emotions threatening to engulf her.
"Are you going to hold up?" asked Nimue's small voice.
She opened her eyes to the specter floating before her, looking concerned, and nodded silently, forcing a smile that lacked conviction. She moved away from the survivors, seeking a slightly secluded corner among the ruins to breathe.
Letting herself drop heavily onto a crumbling marble pillar, she rubbed her hands over her face, hoping to wipe away the accumulated grime, but only succeeded in spreading it further over her skin. Nimue floated down to sit near her, hovering a few inches above the stone surface.
"I'm really sorry for your world... I... I can't imagine what this feels like."
"I'm trying to understand... why? We lived in peace, we didn't harm anyone! Why this hunt, why this war? Earth, now Nimrach! Why can't we just…"
Her words faded into a grimace of pain that brought fresh tears to her eyes. Nimue, with her spectral clawed hand, placed a gentle pressure on her shoulder.
"I don't know. What I do know is that humanity is strong, resilient. You've already managed to survive the loss of one world against all odds. You have that in you, that thing that drives you to keep going. That's why the Council fears you. That's why you will survive again."
Aisling clung to her words like a lifeline, a slightly more sincere smile forming on her lips as she let more tears escape.
"Thank you…" she murmured, grateful, even if it did little to ease the pain in her heart.
Suddenly, a familiar sound resonated in the air, the portal humming to life again accompanied by the loud, sinister caw of a crow. Aisling straightened, her gaze fixed on the source of the noise, her mind wavering between hope and fear. More survivors? Or had their pursuers followed them here?
Aisling stepped out of the ruins with Nimue while some survivors stood up and turned toward the portal, a little farther up the hill at the entrance of the city. Ren was urging everyone to stay back. The atmosphere charged with palpable, electric anxiety. Then, the portal lit up, emitting a fascinating glow that contrasted with the surrounding darkness.
Humans emerged from the vortex, in far worse condition than they were. The survivors rushed to meet them, offering their help to carry the injured and the suffering. More than a hundred refugees crossed the Reflecting Pool, their faces marked by terror and pain.
But in the next moment, palpable tension set in. Four far more imposing silhouettes appeared in turn, their majestic and threatening forms outlined against the light of the portal. The Horsemen. A small wave of retreat rippled through the crowd.
Aisling took a moment to observe them, huddled against the throng. They looked like humans but were taller, more imposing, their bodies seemingly forged only by battle. Ren stepped out of the crowd to advance toward them, looking so small and fragile beside them. He turned to the crowd members, trying to calm the rising murmurs, whispers that the Four seemed aware of, weaving a strange barrier between them and the humans.
"Everything is fine, my friends. They are with us. This is Fury, Strife, and their brothers War and Death. They are the Horsemen, our allies. Everything is fine."
The murmurs multiplied within the crowd. Aisling swallowed. So Ren knew after all. Why had he made such a mystery of it? She pushed her way through the throng, elbowing her way closer until she joined Idris and Fenja, just behind Briana and the line of soldiers still able to stand, forming a barrier between them and the Four, just in case.
Ren turned to the one with gray skin, designated as Death. Aisling found it hard to believe that just a few days ago, she had played chess with him. Stories from the ancients had reached her generation; he was the leader of the Horsemen… the last one you'd encounter. The end.
Ren struggled to tilt his head, exhaustion etched on his face.
"Well, Horsemen? What about Nimrach? The other humans?" he asked in a hoarse voice, his tone laden with anxiety.
"Lost," Death slowly shook his head, his expression grave. "You are the only survivors. Your leaders have fallen. The others have been taken."
The news fell like a thunderclap, causing an emotional earthquake that struck the survivors with unprecedented violence. The ancients had often spoken of that feeling of confusion, injustice, but above all, helplessness that had overwhelmed their parents when the Apocalypse ravaged the Earth. They kept alive the memory of the fear of feeling so small, fragile, incapable of defending themselves. That emotion surged back violently, a tide of anxiety rising to grip every heart in a chokehold.
The most massive Horseman, identified as War, stepped forward.
"We must get you to safety. The Heavens and Hell will not stop until they have hunted you all down."
"No one will find them here."
The leader of the Watchers, the one missing an arm, floated over the crowd to stand before them, followed by two of his kind. Nimue clung to Aisling's shoulder, worry etched on her little spectral face. The Four reacted immediately: each of them tensed, instinctively reaching for their respective weapons.
"Oh great, a city full of spies," sneered the one named Strife, the same who had shaken Aisling in front of the tree, his tone dripping with disdain.
"What are you and your disgusting kind doing here, Watcher?" spat Death, his piercing gaze fixed on the Watcher leader as if promising to rip off his remaining arm if he didn't like the answer.
The Watcher leader remained impassive in the face of the barely veiled threat from the leader of the Four. His icy eyes, devoid of part of their light, stared back unflinchingly.
"Humans are not the only refugees in this world, Horseman. Are you and your brethren going to exterminate us too for that?"
War stepped forward with a heavy stride, his muscles taut beneath his imposing armor, the threat emanating from him as tangible as the blade he bore on his back.
"Perhaps we should," he growled, advancing menacingly, only halted by a simple but authoritative gesture from his elder. "You and yours have taken too much pleasure in serving the Council to be trusted," War added nonetheless, his eyes burning with an ancient and wary fire.
"Just like you," the old Watcher shrugged, unyielding, his voice tinged with bitter wisdom. "And just like you, we have chosen to break our chains… and pay the steep price. But that no longer matters. It seems that others here are in much greater need of help than we are."
He gestured to the humans lined up behind him, their faces marked by fear and exhaustion, watching the scene with concern.
"Well, since when do you care about the fate of humans?" mocked Strife, not hiding his disdain.
The Watcher leader slowly turned to him.
"Weren't they left at our level?" he asked, a certain gravity weighing in his voice. "Mine are nothing but slaves created by the Council to serve them and do their dirty work, while humans have been abandoned despite immense potential, which both the Heavens and Hell envy. We have witnessed their annihilation. Many of us rejoiced in it, like one rejoices at seeing an insect crushed, glad that no one is tearing off our own wings."
He paused, letting his words sink into the dense air around them.
"But comforting ourselves like this only lasts so long. It's just a brief respite before admitting that we too could be treated the same way the day the Council deemed us useless. Then we saw something unexpected: humans resisted. Even in the face of their foretold end, even against the premature Apocalypse, they survived. They kept going."
A murmur spread through the crowd, but no one dared interrupt. The old Watcher continued, his voice becoming almost solemn.
"Even in the face of their annihilation, they persevered. They hoped. They broke the chains of an infamous game imposed on them. Slaves breaking their chains… can you even imagine that, Horseman?"
A strange silence settled, suspended in time. Every word seemed to weigh heavily, a disconcerting and unexpected truth.
"I see," Death replied soberly, his low, mournful voice shattering the silence. "You and yours will live, Watcher. But at the slightest suspicious behavior, at the least sign that my sibling or I deem inappropriate… I will personally make sure to gouge out what's left of your eyes."
The Watcher leader tilted his head slightly, accepting this arrangement without a word. Then he turned to Ren.
"My people can help yours find shelter. Some ruins are still relatively intact. There's game, fresh water in the rivers. We will share what we know."
Ren seemed to hesitate, casting an uncertain glance at the Four Horsemen. For a brief moment, his eyes met Death's, seeking a silent confirmation. Then he finally nodded, a look of gratitude crossing his tired face.
"I'm with you," he said simply, his words filled with appreciation despite his exhaustion.
As Ren prepared to follow the Watcher, Fury, the only woman among the Four, stepped forward, cutting short their departure. Her imposing figure radiated natural authority, amplified by the aura of power surrounding her.
"Wait... how did this portal activate?"
At this question, Ren and the Watcher turned their heads together, an almost instinctive gesture. Their gazes landed on Aisling, immediately betraying a response they hadn't voiced. This sudden attention birthed a palpable unease in the air.
"Oh no…" murmured Nimue, clinging to Aisling's shoulder, her small voice revealing deep concern.
Aisling felt her heart tighten, a cold wave coursing through her body as all the blood seemed to drain from her veins. She locked eyes with Fury, who was now gesturing for her to join her. The Horseman didn't even turn to ensure Aisling was following, beginning to climb the hill with a heavy, assured step.
Around them, the other humans returned to their tasks, helping the newcomers settle in. Yet Aisling couldn't shake the feeling of the weight of the gazes upon her. Even Ren, although he did not speak, cast her a meaningful glance, as if urging her to comply. She had no choice.
Gathering her courage, she followed Fury's massive silhouette as quickly as she could, her feet stumbling slightly over the stones as she ascended the hill. The gravity of the situation pressed on her chest, but another thought crossed her mind, almost ironic. She was climbing a hill in the company of a living legend, a heroine who had once saved humanity, defying angels and demons to give them a new chance.
Part of her should have felt honored. Yet, that wasn't the case. A dull fear rumbled within her, an irrational dread in the presence of such an imposing and mysterious figure, whose past stories depicted her as a Protector, but whose strength and determination could just as easily crush her.
At the top of the hill, the other three Riders had stepped aside to discuss among themselves, their voices low and indistinct, but Aisling could feel their furtive glances weighing on her. She finally reached Fury, breathless and trembling, but tried to mask her apprehension.
Fury stopped, gazing at the horizon as if calculating the chances of survival in this world. Then she slowly turned her head toward Aisling, her piercing eyes seeming to delve into every corner of the young healer's soul.
"How did you manage that?"
Aisling hesitated for a moment, swallowing hard under Fury's piercing gaze.
"I... I'm not exactly sure," she began, her voice weaker than she would have liked. "I wanted to try using the reflecting pool to… see things, like Ren. I tried to focus, and all I wished for was to be elsewhere. I found myself here… without really understanding how."
Fury appeared thoughtful, her eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to decipher a mystery. Aisling couldn't tell whether it was a good or a bad thing. After a moment of tense silence, the young woman finally dared to ask the question burning on her lips.
"Is there a problem?" she asked timidly, her voice betraying sincere worry.
Fury let out a slight sigh, which seemed rare coming from such an authoritative figure. She eventually admitted, in an almost calm tone:
"This portal… it was created solely for me. Only I should be able to use it and determine its destination. It's surprising that a human could activate it. That should have never been possible."
Aisling blinked, taken aback. She didn't know how to respond, feeling that anything she might say would be futile in the face of such incomprehension. Fury, for her part, remained lost in thought for a long moment, her brows slightly furrowed, as if weighing thoughts far heavier than those she had shared. Finally, the great Rider seemed to soften a bit, a subtle but perceptible change in her posture and expression.
"For now, it would be wiser for this portal to be sealed. I will consider what needs to be done. If it becomes necessary to destroy it… we will decide then."
"But," Aisling stammered, concern piercing her voice, "other humans might still cross it... Perhaps not everyone has managed to escape Nimrach yet."
This remark darkened Fury's face, her expression becoming almost impenetrable. She fixed Aisling with a serious gaze, as if weighing each word before responding.
"There is no one left on Nimrach to cross it."
A long silence settled between them, the weight of reality crashing down on Aisling, who lowered her gaze for a moment. Fury, for her part, seemed almost softened by this silence. She slowly turned her head toward the makeshift village below, where humans were busy tending to the newcomers.
"You can go," Fury finally said in a softer voice, yet still imbued with that relentless strength. "People need your care."
Aisling nodded, grateful to have received this implicit permission to withdraw. She turned to descend the hill, her heart still heavy with what she had just learned. Just before she completely turned away, she cast one last glance over her shoulder. Fury was still there, standing at the top of the hill, her gaze lost in deep thoughts, the imposing silhouette of the Protector, alone, thoughtful in the face of the memories of another world in ruins.