Chapter 8:

  "A Walk"

  Arc 1: Chapter 8

  POV: "???"

  During the walk, Luna and Raphadun were slightly ahead. And Empty was following them with the wheelbarrow.

  Raphadun scratched his chin. "The scientists said the curses here are made of corrupted darkness. Stagnant. His…" He looked at Empty, who traced forms in the air with black smoke. "It seems pure. Different. From here, but not corrupt."

  He kept following — a silent shadow.

  They walked for hours.

  The Infernal Zone stretched around them like a gray sea of ruins. They passed buildings without roofs, structures exposed like skeletons of ancient beasts. The ground changed with every stretch—cracked concrete, barren earth, loose stones that slid beneath their soles.

  The wind carried that smell Luna already knew: death, abandonment, the absence of everything that had once been alive. Sometimes, shapes moved among the shadows. Curses. None approached.

  Empty walked behind. Always the same distance. Neither close nor far. Just following.

  At times, Luna looked back. She saw the dark figure, head slightly tilted, observing something—a ruin, a piece of metal, the movement of clouds. Things only he seemed to notice.

  Raphadun didn't look back. He just walked, map in hand.

  They were heading toward the old house—the one they had fled from when Empty first appeared.

  It was far. Very far.

  The sun of the Infernal Zone—if that pale, sickly light could even be called the sun—was already giving way to shadows. The gray sky darkened slowly, as if someone were drawing the curtains on a dead world.

  According to Raphadun's calculations, they would arrive just before nightfall.

  Luna walked ahead, eyes fixed on the horizon of ruins. Raphadun walked beside her, the map already tucked away, trusting his memory for the final stretch.

  Empty was behind them. As always.

  Pulling the cart with his belongings. His leaves. His dried flowers. His museum of dead things.

  Luna glanced back without meaning to.

  Just an automatic movement. A habit born of knowing where danger lurked.

  But because of it, she saw.

  Empty had stopped.

  Behind them. Motionless. Staring at the cart.

  The leaves he had collected—the ones he had guarded so carefully, treated like treasures—were all withered.

  Not just withered. Dead. Like everything in the Infernal Zone.

  He placed his hand on them.

  His gauntleted fingers touched the wilted petals, the dried leaves. He stared at them for a long moment.

  Empty.

  Rotten.

  Like him.

  Empty remained there, kneeling before the cart for minutes. The wind swirled around him, lifting dust, but he didn't move. He just watched.

  "Shit..." Luna muttered through clenched teeth. "Why did he stop? Right when we were about to use him as bait for the mechanism?"

  "He... Actually stopped?" Raphadun frowned.

  They exchanged glances. Then, slowly, they began to approach.

  Not too close. Just enough to see.

  "The leaves... They dried up," Raphadun observed.

  "Obviously!" Luna replied, frustration heavy in her voice. "Nothing survives here. Not for long."

  Empty remained motionless. Kneeling. Watching.

  "It's getting dark, Rapha!" Luna turned her back on the scene. "If he doesn't come, we go. He'll catch up. He did it last time."

  "Yeah..." Raphadun didn't move. "And the time we almost died to curses, we would have if not for him."

  Luna stopped.

  Raphadun moved closer.

  "I have a plan. You won't like it, but I think it'll work."

  "What, Rapha? Spit it out."

  She looked at him with a mix of mockery and anger. Fatigue made her irritable. Fear did too.

  Raphadun told her.

  "NO WAY!" she exploded.

  "Luna, it's the only way."

  "SHIT..."

  She took a deep breath. The air entered and left her lungs like sand.

  Then, she reached into her pocket.

  From it, she pulled the flower.

  The same one Empty had given her. The one he had guarded so carefully, the one she had accepted with such distrust.

  It was rotten now. Like everything in the Infernal Zone.

  Luna approached Empty.

  Trembling. Each step a battle between fear and necessity.

  Raphadun already had the teleport ready. Just in case. For safety. Because he was the younger brother, and protecting his sister was the only thing he knew how to do.

  She extended her hand.

  With the rotten flower.

  Showed it to him.

  Empty turned.

  Looked.

  First at the flower. Then at her face. Then at the flower again.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Luna looked at the flower in her hand. Then pointed at him.

  Your flower. Mine too. They're the same now.

  Empty stood up.

  Slowly. His eyes—behind the mask, yet still perceptible—fixed on her.

  And then, she smiled.

  It was forced. So forced her lips trembled. The fakest smile she had ever made.

  Anyone could tell.

  Except Empty.

  He looked at that smile. Processed it. And then, through the slit in the mask, it was visible.

  His eyes curved.

  He smiled back.

  Luna turned around.

  Trembling like a green branch. Her whole body vibrating with the adrenaline rush.

  And gave a thumbs-up to Raphadun.

  Empty resumed following.

  Pulling the cart. His dead leaves. His dried flowers.

  His world.

  "How did you know that would work?" Luna asked when the distance between them and Empty felt safe again.

  Her voice still trembled.

  "I-intuition..." Raphadun replied, eyes darting away.

  "YOU IDIOT, YOU RISKED MY LIFE FOR THIS."

  "SORRY! I was going to... Teleport you if it went wrong..."

  Luna huffed. But said nothing more.

  Behind them, Empty kept walking. Pulling his cart. His dead things.

  His only treasure.

  When they arrived, the house awaited them.

  Small, nestled between larger ruins. Wooden walls rotten in some places, but still standing. Metal roof with holes, but still covering most of it. Inside, the shelves—Empty's museum—with objects collected over a lifetime no one could imagine.

  Luna stopped at the entrance. Her eyes traced every detail. She stayed near the door, ready to run.

  Raphadun entered. He looked around.

  "He created life..." he murmured.

  Luna didn't respond. She pressed her lips together.

  In the prophecies she had studied since childhood, only the Definitive Light—only her—had the power to create life. Seeing that creature, in that place, with those objects... it was as if someone had torn a page from the sacred book.

  Empty ignored them for a moment.

  He walked to a shelf. Began placing the items he had picked up during the walk—a different stone, a piece of shiny metal, something that looked like a flower long dead. Each object found its place with precision.

  In his hand, he held some items. The most interesting ones. He sat in his chair, in the corner, and began to fiddle with them.

  Raphadun watched. Then he stood up.

  "I'm going..." he took a few steps toward Empty.

  Luna rose in a leap. Body tense.

  "Rapha... are you really?"

  Raphadun looked at her. Tired eyes, but something new in them.

  "Someone has to try."

  Luna stayed where she was. Her eyes didn't leave her brother.

  Raphadun approached slowly. He stopped beside the old chair. Sat down. His fingers trembled a little. He hid it.

  Empty looked at him.

  A long moment. Tense.

  Then Empty picked up one of the objects—a small rusted gear—and extended it to Raphadun.

  Raphadun looked at the object. At Empty. He took it.

  Empty picked up another—a piece of frayed rope—and extended it as well.

  Raphadun took it.

  Slowly, they began showing objects to each other. Empty pointed at things on the shelves. Raphadun looked. Empty picked them up. Raphadun observed. Strange. Awkward. But it was communication.

  Luna watched from afar. Arms crossed. Expression closed.

  But her eyes...

  She saw how Empty held each object—with care, as if they were precious. She saw how he observed Raphadun's reactions, as if he were learning. She saw her brother relaxing little by little.

  He's... trying, she thought. Trying to communicate. Trying to be understood.

  She didn't lower her guard.

  Raphadun, even so, kept one hand ready—the teleport energy always prepared. A safety measure. Even with the help, even with the curiosity, there was still the mystery. Still the fear.

  After a while, Empty stood up.

  Raphadun followed the movement. Body tense for an instant. But Empty went to a farther shelf. Picked up something.

  A notebook. Old. Worn cover. Yellowed pages.

  He returned. Sat down. Extended the notebook.

  Raphadun hesitated. Then took it.

  He opened the cover carefully. His eyes traced the first pages.

  "These are... people?" he murmured.

  Luna, from afar, heard.

  The word hung in the air.

  She stood motionless for a moment. Then, almost against her will, her legs began to move.

  She approached slowly. Each step a battle between curiosity and fear. When she got close enough, she leaned in to see.

  Guard still raised. Distrust still there.

  "These… are drawings?" Luna leaned in. "Did you make them? Wow…" The lines had photographic precision — an unsettling reality. "They're so real…"

  Empty extended his hand. A subtle mist of dark energy emanated from his palm. It enveloped Luna for an instant — not attack, but scanner — then precipitated onto a blank page. In seconds, the perfect image of Luna, caught in that exact moment of perplexity, was there. Imprinted like a spectral photograph.

  They didn't know why.

  It was automatic, but their guard let down a little.

  "So that's how…" Luna touched the page. Dry. "You don't draw. You record."

  She flipped faster, breath catching. Page after page, faces. Dozens. Hundreds. Men, women, children, and elders. Expressions of joy — always seeming to thank someone. A gallery of souls.

  "These are… people?" Her voice was a thread of air.

  Empty nodded. A simple, devastating movement.

  "How did you draw so many?" Raphadun asked.

  Empty kept nodding. Robotic now. Stuck.

  "That wasn't a question, idiot!" Luna snapped. "Who are they? Where are they?"

  Empty stopped. Looked at her. For the first time, the gleam in his eyes seemed dimmed by something… empty. He did not understand. Or did not know. Or the answer was the entire book.

  Then the world exploded.

  A boom came from within the earth. The house disintegrated — not into rubble, but a cloud of splinters and dust.

  "WHAT THE HELL!" Raphadun shouted. His power fired. He teleported in an instant, dragging Luna ten meters away as beams collapsed where she'd stood.

  Empty did not move. Remained standing at the epicenter, motionless in the gale. And then Raphadun saw — something forming from him. Not from his body, but from the darkness around him. Seething. Coalescing.

  Luna saw next.

  From dancing shadows and dust, the Pursuer's wolf materialized. Denser, more real than memory. Its eyes held no hunter's fury — only personal, intimate rage. It growled, a sound that tore through the purified air, and barked once — short, challenging — directed at Empty.

  A challenge.

  Empty turned. His posture was not fear, but solemn recognition.

  "Are you okay?" Raphadun's voice was muffled.

  "Yes…" She swallowed. "That wolf… barked and growled at the same time?"

  "I think so."

  Empty knelt, metal hand pressing against the rubble that was his home. His items, his collection, his history — reduced to dust.

  A murderous aura began to emanate from him. Not anger — something deeper. Glacial. Annihilation made feeling.

  The air grew heavy. Cutting. A chill ran down Luna's spine.

  For the first time, Empty's eyes did not gleam. They darkened. Became two slits of pure, terrifying darkness.

  The giant wolf began to tremble.

  Empty drew his sword. The air howled around him.

  The creature recoiled — a growl now a whimper of dread.

  Empty attacked.

  Not a physical blow. A snap of pure energy — a reconfiguration of reality.

  The colossal form shrank violently. Paws vanishing. Body compacting. Fury dissipating in a distorted flash of light.

  Where the monster had been, a small bulldog stood. Bulging eyes. Wrinkled muzzle.

  Empty's strike cut the air, destroying a row of rubble in a clean line — but he halted in the last millisecond, blade stopping a palm from the ground. His eyes returned to their usual gleam. Perplexed. Noticing the puppy at his feet.

  "Au!"

  Empty leaned down. The murderous aura vanished. With a delicate gesture, he picked up the bulldog and offered it to Luna — a gift.

  Luna extended her hand. Then memory struck — the smell of blood, the sound of twisting metal, her father's back.

  A knife of pure light manifested in her fist. She brandished it at the animal.

  "This dog killed my father and my mother! I need to kill it!"

  Empty moved. His hand enveloped her fist before the blade descended. Forceful, but not violent. A restraint. A barrier.

  Luna screamed — a hoarse cry of impotent hatred that shook her whole body.

  Raphadun held her. "Luna… is it possible that…" He looked at the bulldog, wagging its short tail in Empty's arm. "The curse was… reversed? Contained? Transformed?"

  He gave up, holding his sister.

  "If the wolf is now a dog," he said, "we have a chance. The Pursuer is no longer here."

  Luna swallowed. Wiped her face with the back of her hand. Breathed.

  "But if this dog transforms again… we kill it. Understood, Empty?"

  Empty, holding the bulldog, nodded.

  "We already have the two mechanisms," Raphadun said, map in hand. "The last one is close. If the true Pursuer isn't here…"

  "It's waiting for us." Luna's voice was commanding again. "At the last mechanism. For the final fight. Let's go."

  Empty remained still, gaze lost in the ruins of his only home.

  Raphadun approached. Placed a hand on his metal shoulder.

  "I'm sorry, Empty."

  Empty did not react. Simply settled the bulldog in the crook of his arm — a fragile artifact — and began to walk.

  "That wolf killed my parents," Luna said, walking beside him. "And destroyed your home. And still, you carry it with such… gentleness. Why?"

  Empty turned to her. Behind the mask, she felt the smile.

  "I'll never understand you." She sighed. "When this is over, I'll teach you to write. And you'll tell me everything. Understood? An order from your future queen."

  He nodded. The gleam in his eyes — a smile.

  As they advanced, Empty held the dog in his arms. Passed metal fingers over the wrinkles of its neck — a tender gesture. The bulldog, pure adoration, licked the cold armor with a persistent pink tongue.

  Luna watched from the side, face caught between revulsion and fascination.

  Then something began to drip down Empty's armored leg. Warm. Yellowish. The bulldog, satisfied, had urinated on him.

  Empty stopped. Looked at the growing stain on his metal thigh. With clinical curiosity, he wet his fingers in the liquid and brought them before his helm — to smell? Taste?

  "NO!" Luna's scream was instinctive. She approached. "That's disgusting, Empty! RAPHA!"

  Raphadun arrived, a smile already forming. Without a word, he took a cloth from his backpack and began cleaning Empty's armor.

  Empty watched the cloth absorb the liquid, head tilted like a child seeing magic. Looked at his wet hands. The dog, wagging its tail, is proud.

  He did not understand. But seeing Luna's face wrinkled in disgust, he stopped. Obeyed.

  Raphadun's smile widened.

  And with a purified bulldog and a partially cleaned armor, the three — the teleporter, the princess, and the creature — resumed their march toward the final confrontation.