After narrowly escaping the Zombie King’s stronghold with the antidote, Damien and Mira hurried toward a safe zone hidden deep in the mountains. Their journey was cautious, constantly watching for lurking undead or wandering scouts from the King’s army. The antidote felt like a fragile promise of hope, but the weight of it pressed on both of them.
As they reached the outskirts of the safe zone, Mira sensed a shift in the air—a scent that hinted of burned wood and blood. They entered the encampment, only to find it abandoned, scattered with remnants of a brutal battle. Tents were torn apart, supplies raided, and a few bodies lay still under the midday sun.
“They found them…” Mira’s voice was a whisper, filled with sorrow. “The King’s forces must’ve gotten here first.”
Damien clenched his fists, scanning the destruction. “If there were any survivors, they’d be hiding nearby. We need to find them and protect this antidote.”