Zombies

As the Wildings fled through the dense forests, their ragged breaths mingling with the eerie silence of their surroundings, whispers of fear and desperation filled the air.

"Diabolo has brought this curse upon us," one of the elders rasped, his voice trembling with a mixture of anger and sorrow. "He was once one of our own, but now he serves the Godking, spreading his plague like a scourge upon our lands."

"Aye, he's become a monster, no better than the Winterborne who seek to crush us," another Wilding agreed, his eyes filled with a fierce determination to survive against all odds.

Amidst the murmurs of despair, a sense of grim resignation settled over the group. They knew that their chances of escape were slim, that the relentless pursuit of the zombie hordes would eventually claim them all.

As they trudged onward, their footsteps muffled by the thick undergrowth, the voices of the fallen echoed in their minds, a haunting reminder of the price of defiance.

"We cannot outrun the tide of death forever," one of the younger Wildings whispered, his voice tinged with resignation. "Our only hope now is to find a way to break free from the grip of the Z virus before it consumes us completely."

But even as they spoke, the distant moans of the undead grew louder, drawing closer with each passing moment. With a heavy heart, the group pressed on, their fate sealed by the twisted machinations of Diabolo and his master, the Godking Sinclair Snow.

In the end, as the zombie hordes closed in around them, the Wildings stood united in defiance, their voices raised in a final, defiant cry against the darkness that threatened to engulf them. But their words were lost in the chaos, their spirits consumed by the relentless hunger of the Z virus.

And as the last echoes of their cries faded into the abyss, the Wildings were absorbed into the distorting hive mind of the Z virus, their individuality erased, their souls consigned to oblivion for eternity.

As Diabolo the new fanatical servant of the Godking spread the Z virus through the Wilding tribes turning them into undead minions the Inquisitors flew high above and guided the zombies into cages and dragged a box when it was packed to the Frostvale estate so that it can be sent to the citadel in a later date

As the human slaves gathered in hushed whispers, they exchanged tales of the horrors they had witnessed. The sight of humans turned into mindless zombies sent shivers down their spines, filling them with a sense of dread unlike anything they had ever known.

Their voices trembled as they spoke of Liam's descent into fear and desperation, seeking solace in the arms of the powerful Inquisitors. They knew that such actions were not uncommon among the Winterborne elite, but to see Liam, once a beacon of kindness, succumb to such fear was a sobering reminder of the darkness that now pervaded their world.

Some among them whispered of their own fears, wondering if they too would fall victim to the Z virus, if they too would become mindless drones enslaved to the will of the Godking. But others spoke words of defiance, vowing to resist the darkness that threatened to consume them, to hold onto their humanity no matter the cost.

As they shared their fears and hopes in the dimly lit corridors of the Frostvale estate, they found strength in each other, a glimmer of light in the encroaching darkness. For even in the face of such horrors, they knew that as long as they stood together, they would never truly be alone.