Chapter 5: Ashes and Echoes

Chapter 5: Ashes and Echoes

The sun was rising, but it brought little warmth to the hollow ruins.

Ash floated like snow through the air, the last remains of the Archfiend dissolving into nothing.

Sunny and Ezra stumbled out of the shattered church doors, blinking against the sudden light.

The forest beyond looked almost normal, as if the horrors inside had never happened.

Sunny leaned heavily on Ezra, limping.

Ezra’s arm was slung protectively around her shoulders, his face grim.

For a long time, they didn’t speak.

Finally, Ezra broke the silence.

"You almost got yourself killed back there."

His voice was gruff, but his grip tightened slightly — not letting her go.

Sunny gave a tired, crooked smile.

"Yeah, well... you’re welcome for saving your life, dumbass."

Ezra stared at her.

Then he barked a rough laugh — quick and sharp, like a wolf’s.

"Fair point."

They trudged through the tall grass, leaving the cursed church behind.

Sunny clutched the golden cross tightly, feeling its faint thrum against her skin.

It was hers now.

Somehow, she knew she couldn’t let it go.

Not yet.

The path wound downhill into a dense mist.

Birds were beginning to sing, but the forest still felt... off.

Ezra frowned, glancing around warily.

"We need to find shelter. Patch ourselves up."

Sunny nodded, feeling the aches in every bone of her body.

Her legs were barely holding her up.

She had pushed herself past every limit.

And yet...

Underneath the exhaustion, something in her heart burned fierce and bright.

She had faced death.

And survived.

No — more than survived.

She had fought back.

They followed a narrow deer trail, silent except for the crunch of leaves underfoot.

That’s when they heard it:

Hoofbeats.

Coming fast.

Ezra shoved Sunny behind him instantly, drawing his battered sword.

From the mist emerged a rider — a woman in a dark green cloak, astride a black horse.

Her face was half-hidden under a hood, but her eyes gleamed like steel.

The horse stamped and snorted, uneasy.

The woman raised a hand in peace.

"I’m not your enemy," she called.

Ezra didn’t lower his sword.

Sunny peeked around him, heart hammering.

The woman dismounted smoothly, landing in the dirt with barely a sound.

She kept her hands where they could see them — but Sunny noticed the twin daggers at her belt.

Warrior. Dangerous.

"My name is Seraphine," the woman said.

"I was sent by the Remnants."

Ezra's eyes narrowed.

"Liar. The Remnants are dead."

Seraphine smiled grimly.

"Not all of us."

She reached into her cloak slowly and pulled out a tattered banner — white cloth stained with blood, marked with a black sigil:

A sword breaking through chains.

Sunny's breath caught.

She had seen that symbol once, hidden in an old book.

The mark of the last resistance.

The secret order that fought the darkness when the old kingdoms fell.

Ezra cursed under his breath.

Seraphine tucked the banner away again.

"I don’t have time to convince you," she said.

"The longer we stand here, the closer they get."

Sunny shivered.

"They?"

Seraphine’s face darkened.

"The true masters of the Archfiends.

The ones who are hunting you, girl."

Sunny stiffened.

"Me?"

Seraphine nodded.

"You’re not just any lost soul wandering into sacred ground.

You’re marked now. Chosen — or cursed.

Either way, they will come for you."

Ezra looked at Sunny, then back at Seraphine.

He didn’t trust her.

Sunny could see it in his eyes.

Neither did she, honestly.

But what choice did they have?

The ruined church behind them whispered of death.

Ahead, a war was waiting.

Sunny tightened her grip on the cross.

"Okay," she said, voice shaking but firm.

"Take us somewhere safe."

Seraphine gave a crooked smile.

"Safe?

There’s no such thing anymore."

She whistled sharply, and the horse trotted over.

She swung herself back into the saddle and offered a hand down.

Sunny hesitated — then took it.

Ezra grunted and stalked alongside them, never sheathing his sword.

They rode into the mist.

Into the unknown.

And far, far behind them, buried beneath the rubble of the church,

a second mask stirred in the dust.

Its hollow eye sockets gleamed red.

The true hunt had begun.

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