He ran, lungs burning on the stale air inside his mask.

Light flashed all around them, and the tunnel appeared for a moment, crackling with the sound of a dozen enraged fires. Then it flickered out again.

Shouting filled the mist. Ashen made it to the first wagon and didn't slow. They'd stopped moving to look around. He panted, almost falling. More grass was growing in from the edges of the road, slower than what had sprouted up in front of him, but visibly moving.

"Move!" he shouted, the mask muffling the command. No one heard. Saphier was lowering herself off her perch atop one of the wagons.

He made it to her side as her feet hit the ground, grabbing her arm. She yelped, but he ignore it, hauling her around the side of the wagon. Jerking the door open, he thrust her inside.

"Stay." He slammed it shut in her gaping face, sprinting towards the head wagons.

The grass at the sides of the road crept steadily forward. Over the road the shield flashed and popped like thunder and lightning caught in a wild storm. Ashen's breaths came raggedly, hot against his face as the mask pushed them back into him. His lungs squeezed, heart catching inside his throat in an unswallowable lump.

Bodies milled about between the wagons in frantic chaos, nearly indistinguishable from each other in their panic and the dull colors of their protective clothes. The tubes dangling off their mouths made familiar faces buglike and horrifying in the stark shadows of the Shade.

Archers came into sight atop wagons, bows knocked.

"What's going on?"

Ashen spun to face his sister. "Saphier, get in the wagon. Now."

Her eyes narrowed above the mask. "I don't have to, or want to listen to you, Ashen. What's going on?"

"We're under attack, get inside."

The look in her eyes was more intense interest and less fear. He had enough terror for thirty people.

His whole body filled with it, shaking into his bones and covering every nook and cranny inside him till there wasn't room for anything else. Suffocating.

They were going to die here. His stomach turned. Death within the Shade, where not a drop of nature or a single seed of its hope lived.

"Attacked by what?" his sister demanded, anger hanging from the words.

Why aren't you afraid? Be afraid. Her eyes locked on his, but he could hardly see her past the sickness welling up inside him.

They'd die so easily. One of those creatures alone could wreak havoc upon them. None of them knew anything about fighting. Not real fights, not with sharpened weapons. Play acting and performance were all they knew, and against a real opponent it would be nothing. Like slaughtering children pretending at being warriors.

He blinked, and could see them, faces of the people he knew were going to die, faces he loved. They were impressed against the backs of his eyelids like brands.

A hand grabbed him, jerking hard.

Lightfingers' face blurred into his as the hand spun him around. Ashen flinched, blinking to steady his vision.

"Stay close," he instructed, voice echoing dully behind his mask, then out into the Shade. Close. Close, close, it whispered. Stay close. Close. Close. Close. The words bounced around them.

Lightfingers looked over at his sister. "Get back on one of the wagons."

His hand slid free of Ashen. "Ready weapons!" he shouted, voice slicing the chaos like a heated knife, cauterizing the sounds.

Weapons. Weapon. Weapons, weapons, weapon, the word echoed.

"Everyone in place! Keep moving. The barriers will hold!" The words held an unwavering confidence. Then Lightfingers turned, and he saw the fear dancing behind his eyes. Ashen's stomach shot downward. An act. He wished he hadn't seen through it.

"Ashen," he jerked his head, summoning him back to his side as Saphier bolted away, clambering onto a wagon top. The person who helped pull her up seemed much more afraid than she did.

"I, I saw them." The words stammered from him. "There's dozens. No. More than that. The left side of the wood is--"

"Hush," Lightfingers watched another man scramble onto a wagon roof. "There is nothing to worry about, the more you go on, the more panicked they will be, and the worse their aim if we need it."

The words made Ashen's teeth grind. "I saw them—"

"No. Not right now, Ash. Right now you are an actor, and we are adapting to our set, and we must remain calm." He grabbed his arm, dragging him to one of the rear wagons as they began moving again, drivers pushing their horses for speed. He leapt onto the steps, tugging Ashen with him.

He swayed as the wagon bumped and bounced, clinging to the door handle.

Lightfingers watched down the road. The field of yellow eyes closed in on the spot Ashen had been watching with inhuman speed. He shuddered, glancing at Lightfingers. He couldn't be sure through the dark mist hanging around them, but Lightfingers looked like he'd taken on a sickly paleness above his mask. His eyes watched the spot intently.

He swallowed. Lightfingers' free hand tapped against his side in the corner of Ashen's eye, a restless movement as he watched the creatures move.

Light crackled across the tunnel. Ashen squinted, eyes watering.

Another flash came a moment later. A shattering sound shrieked into the air. Wild howling covered the noise. The tunnel glowed around them, guttering like a candle in the wind. Darkness soaked into it, pushing its way out across the light of the tunnel.

Another creature crashed into the place. The darkness spread like wildfire, rushing over the bright tunnel and enveloping it.

A low, choked noise escaped Ashen as he watched two of the creatures claw through the remnants of the shield.

Then they began to pour through.

The feeling of death and corruption surrounding him went sharp as a knife, sticking deep inside his gut. His hand shook against the door handle, grip white knuckled. A wave of pure wrongness washed over him. The world swam.

He could almost hear the faint screams of everyone who'd died here. Everyone who'd been lost. Plants, and animals. People. Nature itself. Corrupted and destroyed and formed into those things.

"Fire!" Lightfingers' shout cut into his spinning head.

Arrows streaked through the mist. They were too slow, as if the mist clinging to them hung with physical weight.

One struck a creature in the arm. It yowled, reaching up it ripped the arrowhead free with a grotesque hand. It continued hurtling towards them without pause.

There had to be dozens. Ashen gagged, the knife inside his stomach twisting harder and harder the closer they came.

He gagged again, pulling his blade from his sheath, though what it would do against those things.... he didn't know.

They were all different shapes and forms. But the longer he looked, the more he could see a terrible sort of vague human featuring in common. Eyes, or hands, the bend of a leg in a creature which otherwise could have been a wolf. Others that were some amalgamation of creatures, too twisted and warped to resemble anything.

Lightfingers shouted orders again, but the screams of others ate their sound. More and more things poured through the hole they'd made in the shield.

Arrows streaked through the air again in an uncoordinated volley. One of the creatures fell and didn't get up. Lightfingers scrambled onto the top of their wagon, shouting at people to shoot them again. The wagons picked up speed, bouncing as they hurtled down the road, their horses breaking into a wild run. The creatures chasing after them were like hounds on the scent for their master.

Ashen's fingers kept their strangle hold on the handle of the door. The edges of his vision swam. Everyone would die. They'd die and become like these twisted, unnatural creatures. He would become like them. His sister. Her eyes gone glazed and cold, body bent and warped near breaking till it became something different, flame-red hair gone black as pitch and slimy slick like the grasses of this place.

His stomach heaved. Ashen doubled over it, hand clammy in his glove as he gripped the door handle. A gag forced its way up. His knife hand jerked up to rip off his mask free before he could vomit into it.

Something cracked. Ashen's back slammed into the wagon. He fell forward off it to the road, rolling. A glimpse of the wagon falling to its side flashed through his tumbled vision. Inky grass grew up from a snapped wheel, reaching like vines.

His side struck a post at the edge of the road. Pain exploded through his ribs as he came to rest against it.

Grass moved under his fingers, coiling about them. He jerked upright. The ground spun under him, side shrieking from the movement. Grass tore underfoot as he stumbled towards the road again.

Lightfingers lay sprawled on the ground beside another man just ahead. Scrambling to his feet, he hauled the archer up with him. Through the Shade and the protective gear, Ashen couldn't tell who it was.

A knife seemed to come from nowhere, appearing in Lightfingers' hand. He leapt forward, slashing into one of the creatures as it bore down on them. It screamed, falling back, a twisted paw-hand to its midsection.

Ashen's eyes darted around for his own blade, spotting its bright sheen against the darkness. Snatching it up, he began to race back towards the road.

Lightfingers flowed forward again, a viper striking. His knife cut across the thing's throat. It fell back onto the road. Blackness poured from the slash onto the ground, as if it had ink for blood.

Another came at Lightfingers. He dodged and lunged, fluid in motion.

The other wagons hadn't stopped. Only Lightfingers and the man with his bow stood in the road—Cord, he could tell from the grace the ropewalker moved with, even after the fall. Creatures massed around them like a pack of vicious dogs.

Grass grabbed his feet and he stumbled, slashing wildly at it with his knife. A splintering sound filled the air as the wagon's wheel snapped, grass coiling up tighter and tighter around it. A frantic horse broke free with a scream, racing off into the darkness, dragging part of the wagon in tow. The other struggled wildly with the grass crawling up its legs.

Ashen ran, leaping over a patch of grass.

He slammed into the creature fighting Lightfingers, knife jamming into its side.

It punched through skin and muscle into softer insides with less effort than he'd expected. The feel of it slipping in easily as sheathing and the sticky-hot blood rushing down over his fingers flipped his stomach. Ashen almost jerked away, instead, he ripped it free, jamming it in again.

The creature screamed, falling to all fours. It sounded almost human. Ashen backpedaled, nearly tripping over his own feet. His stomach lurched, and he gagged into his mask. Black blood soaked the sleeve of his left arm.

Lightfingers danced forwards, blade a blur that left a bubbling black slit across the creature's throat.

Down the road, a large group of the things stood, piercing yellow eyes boring into them as they watched the first drop.

Maybe it was enough to make them turn away. Maybe seeing their own dying would drive them off.

One of them barked out a guttural sound. The creatures around it began to fan out then slowly close in.

A small noise escaped from deep inside Cord's throat. "We're going to die." He pulled an arrow from the quiver at his belt. His arms shook, and the arrow went wide, slamming into the ground between two of the things.

He drew another arrow, firing again with more caution. It sank into a wolf like creature's thigh. It paused, the others prowling ahead of it, then it reached back, and ripped the arrow out with a clumsy hand, head and all, dropping it onto the road. Limping, it rejoined the others, eyes glittering darkly.

"Gods have mercy. Lightfingers, I have four arrows left."

Lightfingers turned the knife in his hand so the blade pointed downwards. His feet spread and his entire posture changed, going more dangerous, almost feral.

With a sharp movement, one of the creatures broke rank. It hurtled at them.

Lightfingers threw himself to the side, clawed fingers tearing through the air where he'd been. Ashen leapt forwards at it, hand a knot around his blade. The creature's head snapped around to face him.

It hit him like a brick wall on both sides. Something cracked in his chest with a fire like he'd never felt before, the air bursting from him in a silent scream.

Long, clawed hands held him down against the pale dust of the road. They squeezed into him through the padding of his shirt and locked into his flesh.

Ashen got in a breath only to have it come out at a jagged scream. The sound echoed around them with an almost gleeful edge.

The creature snarled, fangs dripping black liquid onto Ashen's chest.

He struggled with his knife hand, trying to rip it free. He'd never be as strong as this thing was.

Its yellow, human eyes met his gaze, then it snapped at his face.

There was a sharp pulling. Pain scraped across his face. Something crackled and tore.

A knife sprouted from one of the eyes in front of his. They creature seemed not to notice for a moment, jaws still open for another bite, then it slumped and fell onto him with a dead weight.

Ashen gasped for breath.

The air stank. Death and carrion filled his mouth, coming from the open jaws of the thing atop him.

Ashen struggled against the crushing weight, gasping again as the whole left side of his ribs flashed hot. Wrong. His entire body felt wrong. The creature had broken something, done something. Everything was--

A hand yanked him roughly to his feet.

"Shit!" It was Lightfingers' voice, hot and angry. Ashen watched as the creatures prowled closer. One of Cord's arrows hit an exposed neck with a thunk that echoed wetly around them.

"Shit, Ash, look at me." Lightfingers shook him, and his gaze moved across the creatures to the other man's face. There was fear inside his eyes. More fear than Ashen had ever seen in anyone's eyes before.

They were going to die. It was no longer so terrible to him. They'd die, and they'd become these things. Maybe someone else would come along and kill them again, like Lightfingers had been doing.

That would be good. Wouldn't it? Yes.

"You're bleeding too, shit." Lightfingers was doing something with his mask. Ashen watched in numb silence.

It pressed into his own face suddenly. Pain seared over his cheeks and down to his chin. Lightfingers bound it in place with shaking hands as Cord shot another creature.

He clipped something heavy to his belt.

"Run, Ashen." His voice sounded strangely without the mask, words echoing longer and harsher. But also... weaker.

Ashen took another shuddering breath.

Everything tasted like leather again.

Ashen didn't move. Lightfingers gripped him by the arms. "Go." He pressed a warm knife hilt into Ashen's palm, shoving him savagely. Ashen stumbled, then his feet began to move.

He breathed again, then coughed. Everything spun for a moment.

A fog lifted off his head, and he looked down. Lightfingers knife glittered in his hand. He spun around. Lightfingers and Cord were barely visible, distant figures amid the mist. How had he gotten so far from them? When?

Why did he have Lightfingers' knife?

His mask.

Cold shot through him. He looked down. A long tail of ripped up gutting dangled from his belt, clinging to the remains of his own mask.

Ashen looked back again. The men were fighting still.

One of them went down, creatures piling atop him. Lightfingers turned to look at Cord as he screamed. Ashen could feel his gaze as it passed over him.

"Run!"

Ashen began to run, holding the knife tight like it could shield him from the horror.

His feet pounded across the ground, taking him farther and farther from what he could see happening inside his mind. They'd killed Cord. He'd never been close to the ropewalker, but he was Saphier's teacher, and everyone's neighbor.

Family. A part of the troupe.

Dead.

Ripped apart and dead. Tears burned his eyes, sliding down his face, scalding hot against the cuts as he fled.

A scream pierced the mists, rolling and echoing through them.

It broke sharply, each echo the death of the sound again, and again.

The noise chased him as he fled up the road through the darkness, silently praying that his sister would get to the city on the other side.

Lightfingers was dead. Their leader, the man who'd been his older brother and father in shifts. His master, teacher. Friend.

Dead.

Thanks for reading! Don't forget to vote if you like this chapter, and sorry it took so long to put out, the next one shouldn't.