Viola’s name echoed like a tattered melody, spoken by a cracked voice. Three men walked down the desolated forest path, eyes glancing up at treetops and along dried up creek beds. Birds lay lifeless in the trees, held up by crackling branches. Horns jutted out of the desiccated corpse of a deer, its felted fur reduced to raw meat and seared bone. Flat yellow teeth grimaced as large boiled eyes stared in the direction of the lake. Its body appeared to be trapped mid-hop.


    Arthur called out again, panting. His eyes grew heavy as sunlight began to peek out from the forest like a flame rising from between the ribs of a giant. Samuel couldn’t pull his eyes away from the death that surrounded him.


    “Keep up, son.” Klaus said stoically as he squinted at a hostile-looking bush.


    “It was in this direction.” Arthur’s breathless voice was shockingly loud amidst the sinister silence of the pines ripped bare, “The trees, they bend away from the explosion.”


    “Arthur,” Klaus called, but the tired man continued to stumble down the forest path. Samuel had never seen him so disheveled. His shoulders hung low; his back slouched as the weight of even the lightest leather armor weighed him down. A shaking hand rested on a dragon’s-head pommel. Boots began to drag as exhaustion set in.


    “If you keep going like this, we’ll have to carry you back to the village.” Klaus urged.


    “If we don’t find Viola, you won’t have to.” Arthur took another step. Samuel couldn’t stop staring at the violent trembling of Arthur’s fingers.


    “What about Roy?”


    “They’d be together.” Arthur said sternly, “He wouldn’t leave her in… this.”


    Klaus stopped, holding an arm out to his son. Samuel halted, watching as Arthur slowly disappeared into the darkness.


    “Aren’t we going with?” Samuel asked.


    “I don’t like this.” Klaus shook his head, “Listen. Do you hear it?”


    Trees swayed silently, no leaves to sing in their branches.


    The winter arrangement of insects ceased like a dozen bow strings held at the end of an orchestra.


    The birds lost their voices.


    The earth itself dared not speak a word to the travelers treading its skin.


    Samuel had become intimately aware of his own breathing.


    “Arthur!” Klaus called out, but the blacksmith was gone. Samuel took a cautious step, but Klaus’ scolding glare kept him from continuing. In the silence of the corpse-ridden conifers, a sour, rotten sound shattered the silence.


    Samuel had never heard anything like it. He could hear the voice tearing apart, a throat being ripped to pieces like stones scraping against the neck of a violin. Klaus sprinted towards the sound, drawing the blade on his hip. Samuel pulled his blade, expecting some creature lurking deeper in the woods.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.The voice shattered, losing all semblance of humanity. Every morsel of air that filled Arthur’s lungs was used to call Viola’s name.


    Arthur’s calloused fingers split the blood-coated hair in his hands. Viola rested lifelessly in his arms. Viola’s body was covered in cuts in gashes. Samuel couldn’t see her face, but he saw a glimpse of her forehead as Arthur pulled her into his chest like a broken doll. Where her back once lay, wet grass remained.


    Klaus approached, his sword dropping into the dirt. He counted the bodies lying around Viola. There were five Todesspucker, the largest pack he had seen in years. Their eyes were boiled, their skin cracked. The thoughtless, hunger-driven beasts lay with their mouths frozen in twisted agony.


    Samuel’s knees sunk into the mud as he pressed his hand into a tree. The bark was still warm to the touch. There was no smell, no ichor of death, but he still felt the need to vomit. One of the Todesspucker looked as though it had been burned by the sun, and then exploded.


    “Arthur.” Klaus called quietly. Samuel wasn’t sure if the smith could hear him as he drowned in his sobs. A hand touched his shoulder. Arthur’s skin shrunk away, his elbow shooting towards Klaus, narrowly missing his thigh as he backed away.


    “Arthur.” Klaus pleaded, “Look.”


    Small, bloodied fingers dug softly into the dirt. Arthur leaned his ear towards her mouth. A breath creaked out. Arthur reached out for Viola’s hand, pulling it away from the soil. His sobbing paused as he tried to listen. He called her name. A small whimper dripped from her lips.


    Arthur lowered her back onto the earth gently. He pulled a knife from his belt, and cut at his tunic. He took off the sleeves, slicing them into strips. He carefully wrapped Viola’s arms and legs. He wiped a stream of blood that drew too close to her eye.


    “Get the healer. There’s time.” Arthur said, his shambled voice became eerily clear. Klaus nodded, picking up his sword. Arthur scooped Viola up, grunting as he stood. Her head rolled towards his chest. Klaus used his free hand to carefully tuck Viola’s dangling arm.


    Samuel stared. He couldn’t will his feet to move. His body resembled that of the pines, rigid and still. He swayed towards his father when he called. The sight of the Todesspucker stained his eyelids even when they were closed.