The rain poured down in heavy sheets, turning the dirt path beneath Damien’s boots into a muddy mess. He and Lena had been walking for hours, the glow of the Scepter of Aegis faint under the cloudy night sky. They had put distance between themselves and the Zombie King’s scouts, but Damien knew it wouldn’t last. The Zombie King wanted the scepter—and him—dead.
Lena walked in silence beside him, her eyes distant, her earlier confession still lingering between them. The weight of her near-betrayal pressed heavily on them both, but there was no time to dwell on it. They had to reach the ruins of Fallhollow, a village destroyed during the first days of the outbreak. It was rumored to hold another key to the Zombie King’s power—a dark secret buried in its forgotten crypts.
“I can feel them,” Lena said quietly, breaking the silence. Her voice was strained, as if the very air around them had become heavy with unseen danger. “They’re close.”