We entered the vastly simplified camp just minutes before sunrise. I clutched my hand tightly over my nose, desperate to block out the overwhelming, intoxicating scent of everyone around me. The mingling odors of sweat, blood, and something darker—something primal—made my head spin, yet I couldn’t look away.

  The soldiers lay scattered across the muddy ground or on whatever scraps they had managed to salvage—blankets, crates, broken planks—curled into restless, shallow sleep. But the silence was what truly unnerved me. No snores, no murmured conversations, no shifting bodies in their tents or makeshift shelters. The only sounds were the soft skittering of rats weaving between dying campfires, their tiny claws scraping the earth.

  The stillness was oppressive, almost unnatural—even to me.

  Occasionally, I shook a few men awake, holding their gaze with an intensity that left no room for lies or delusion. Our calculations had been disastrously wrong. We didn’t have four days left to prepare—maybe not even one. The infection rate had skyrocketed overnight, reaching the very brink we had feared: the point where open rebellion, raw and uncontrollable, would ignite.

  Markus led us wordlessly through the shadows to a massive campfire ringed with rough-hewn logs, hastily arranged as benches. Officers clustered there, waiting for the sun to rise, faces etched with exhaustion and dread.

  I sank down near Arthur, who sat slumped but alert. His eyes met mine, steady and familiar—for now, he was still himself.

  I closed my eyes as the first golden rays of sunlight spilled across the camp, drawing warmth into my skin and washing away some of the night’s chill. The crackle of the fire was a fragile comfort in the heavy quiet.

  After a long moment, Arthur’s voice broke the silence, a whispered confession in my ear. “I hate to admit it, but your way of dealing with the worms might be our only hope. Some possessed officers leaked the plan to destroy the dam. They forced me to retreat before the flood came.”

  His words hit like a blow. He didn′t know about my plans, so the only way for them to escape the devastation was through the Devourer.

  “I still have to ask,” he said, voice low and uncertain, “Did you leave me here to die?”

  I forced a bitter smile and shook my head. “No. I sent a soldier with a letter—if things settled, he was to find you. But he must have been infected, and they used the letter’s contents against us.” It was a lie, a necessary one. I needed Arthur’s trust, fragile as it was.

  He sighed deeply, the weight of despair pressing down on him. “As much as I hate it, destroying everything might have been the only choice. Still... part of me is relieved your plan failed.”

  His voice trembled, revealing his exhaustion and fear—fears I shared to my core. The world we lived in was changing, twisted by the worms, and I wasn’t sure if any of us could survive what was coming.

  I tapped my fingers lightly against the rough wood beneath me, exhaling slowly as the fire’s glow flickered and danced in the early morning light.

  “She predicted my every move so far…” I murmured, slowly turning away from Arthur. Finally, I let my hand fall from my nose. A complex mixture of scents flooded my sensitive nostrils—Arthur’s sweat, the sharp sting of spilled alcohol a few metres away, and something elusive, something I couldn’t quite place. The harshness was tempered by the soft glow of the rising sun, which dulled my senses just enough to make it bearable.

  “How do you defeat an enemy who wields the knowledge of thousand of soldiers, at least, and can shred command structures to pieces in minutes?” I asked, voice low and heavy.

  Arthur’s reply was quiet, resigned. “I don’t know.”

  Neither did I. We were trapped. If we turned to infighting, the Devourer would win effortlessly—she would anticipate every betrayal, every move, because she had eyes everywhere. There were no dams left to exploit, no clever advantages waiting in the wings. I was already losing, no matter what I tried.

  Frustration and fear clawed at my chest as I raised my hand again, sealing off my senses from the assault of smells. The world felt suffocating.

  “Do you trust me?” I whispered, barely daring to hope. Not all was lost—not yet. There was still an option left. It was dangerous, reckless even, and at odds with everything I wanted, but it was better than surrender.

  Arthur’s voice trembled, but there was no other option left for him. “I have no choice, do I?”

  “There’s a bridge upstream, a few kilometres back,” I said softly. “It was still standing when we passed. Hopefully, by tomorrow, the floodwaters will recede. We’ll give her what she wants—a fresh feeding ground, right inside the elven camp.”

  I barely finished before footsteps approached. I turned sharply toward the sound and caught sight of a figure stepping into the flickering firelight.

  “Miss Devourer, I presume?”

  “Yes and no,” the figure answered, his voice deep and steady. “I am not here with my main body, but rather one my child controls.” He was clad in dark, battle-worn armor and moved with a calm precision. Without waiting for an invitation, he lowered himself onto the log beside me.

  “Arthur, if you would be so kind,” I said, eyes fixed on the newcomer. Arthur rose without protest, motioning silently to the other officers to follow him away. The campfire’s flickering light seemed to shrink with their departure, leaving us cloaked in shadows and silence.

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  “He is smart,” the shell spoke directly to me, her tone cool but sharp. “Knowing when to step down is the most overlooked quality in this war. But I have to admit—you broke him. You stripped him of purpose until he feels no more than a useful toy in your hands. And he knows—this isn’t going to end well.”

  Her words hit like a challenge, a taunt aimed at my very core. She was implying I should surrender, that I was doomed to fail. But if she knew me even half as well as I thought, she wasn’t counting on me giving up so easily.

  “Maybe I should,” I said, the bitterness creeping into my voice. “After all, I’ve always dreamed of living on a quiet, lonely island. Growing potatoes and nothing more. What better life could there be?” I forced a dry chuckle, then tilted my head. “By the way, do you see yourself as a daughter of some god?”

  “The god of corruption himself gave me life,” she said, her voice dripping with dark pride. “Naturally, I regard him as my father.”

  Her words stirred a memory, a whisper from the past I hadn’t dared revisit until now.

  “Two hundred years ago, an oracle foretold the world’s end,” I began, watching her closely. “She spoke of a daughter of a god who would come among us, disguised as human but far from it. A creature that feeds on us, without mercy. Responsible for thousands upon thousands of deaths if the heroes fail to stop her. If you ever see her… run. Because she will be the end of the world.”

  I paused, letting the weight of the prophecy settle between us. She laughed then, a sound both cruel and amused, as if I had just told the greatest joke in the world.

  Somewhere deep inside, I sensed she already knew about that prophecy — and worse, that she was eager to see it fulfilled.

  “Oh, yeah, Kamachakyatamakyan himself told me that story when I took over his mind,” I said with a bitter chuckle, trying to mask the storm of sadness and rage swirling inside me. “By the way, how does it feel to be called a hero?” The words dripped with irony, but beneath that was a sharp edge of defiance. This worm would die by my hands, no matter what it took—even if I had to use my own greatest weakness as bait.

  She smirked but didn’t respond immediately. Instead, her eyes glimmered with cold amusement. “I doubt a true hero would resort to the things you tried,” she said quietly. “But tell me—how did you think I uncovered your plan?”

  Curiosity pricked me despite myself. “There were only a few scouts who dared venture this far, and after capturing them, I searched everywhere for you but found nothing. Eventually, it wasn’t so hard to figure out where you went.”

  I scowled. “Damn it. I didn’t think anyone besides me—and a handful of others—knew about the beaver dam. What’s your next move?” I asked, though I already sensed I wouldn’t like the answer.

  Her voice was steady, unyielding. “I’ve already won. All I need to do is continue as before. You’re out of options. Your only choice now is to run.”

  She was right. The army was lost—fractured beyond repair—and it was only a matter of time before the Devourer claimed full control. My chest tightened with frustration and fear.

  “You are a fearsome enemy,” I said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “It was... a pleasure to lose against you.”

  Her laugh was cold, almost mocking. “I’m sorry I can’t return the sentiment. Your moves were far too predictable. You’re simply not capable of surprising me.”

  I placed my left hand firmly on his shoulder, a gesture half to steady myself and half to assert my lingering strength. Despite everything, I wasn’t ready to bow out just yet.

  “It’ll be a pleasure to rip you to shreds, though.”

  Before the threat could fully land, I yanked his head sharply to the right. A sickening crack echoed through the air as his neck snapped, and his lifeless body slumped away from me. I wouldn’t be caught—not by her, not now, not ever. Blind, I reached out, fingers tracing the contours of his body until I found his hips and, finally, the sword. I drew the blade slowly and pressed its tip against the corpse, inhaling sharply. The blood that seeped from the wound reeked of decay—like socks left to rot for a year. I recoiled in disgust.

  Nearby, a guard stirred, breaking the silence with the faintest noise carried by the wind.

  “Devourer,” I called softly, “could you do me the honor of disposing of this?” The guard approached without a word, hoisted the corpse over his shoulder, and disappeared into the shadows. Her confidence was unnerving—if she acted this openly, she must be certain of her victory.

  Minutes passed in agonizing stillness. Then, faint but unmistakable voices drifted back—Arthur and the officers had returned. Relief washed over me. Fighting blind was never my strength, and with the sun climbing higher, my heightened senses dulled cruelly. Even the sword felt heavier in my grasp, my body sluggish and drained in this unnatural daylight. The curse of my vampirism was no longer a secret; its dark edges sharpened in the sun’s glare.

  Frustrated, I let the sword clatter to the ground, unable to hold it any longer. I turned my head toward where I assumed Arthur stood.

  “I have an idea,” I said quietly. “The night after tomorrow, I will find the Devourer and kill her. I don’t know if I can succeed... but I have to try.”

  “Why not start tomorrow?” Arthur asked, his voice cautious but hopeful—exactly what I needed to hear.

  I shook my head, glancing toward the dim horizon where the sun was just beginning to touch the sky. “There are a few knights I need to find first. I ordered them to stay away from the camp, remember? Tracking them down and convincing them to join will take some time. It’s not as simple as it sounds.”

  He raised an eyebrow, skepticism clear in his gaze. “And you really think these knights will make a difference?”

  I bit back a smirk, knowing the truth: I didn’t believe it myself. But I had to make him believe, or at least keep the fragile hope alive for whoever else might be listening. “Tom’s among them,” I said firmly, clapping my hands together with forced enthusiasm. “So yes, they will.”

  Arthur didn’t press further, probably wise enough to sense my silence held more than I was ready to admit.

  I shifted the conversation abruptly, “Can I have some roasted beef? I think I saw some a few minutes ago…”

  He nodded, the briefest flicker of a smile crossing his face, but wisely chose not to chase the topic further. I wasn’t ready to reveal if any possessed humans lurked nearby—not that I could be sure myself.

  A few minutes later, I sat quietly, chewing the meat in near silence. But the taste was off—something foul and unsettling beneath the surface, like decay hidden beneath the smoke and seasoning. My stomach churned, and I swallowed hard, trying to push down the growing unease.