Only Skeletons Remain

Chapter 13: Miguel's Secret

"Miguel!" Lara hugged him tightly when Miguel returned back to the camp.

Miguel hugged her back, closing his eyes. He let out a soft sigh of relief, glad to be back in allied territory. He held Lara close to his chest before he pulled away.

"Are you hurt?" Lara asked, checking over him. As she cupped his cheek, her eyes widened in terror. "What did they do to you?"

"They—" Miguel started, his voice hoarse. He forced himself to look her in the eyes, the woman who had helped him escape, who had risked everything for him. "I... I didn't mean for it to happen, Lara. I didn't—"

Her eyes widened, and she took a step back, as if physically repelled by his words. "No. No, you didn't." Her voice trembled with rage, with pain. "Tell me it isn't true."

He swallowed hard, and then, as if to answer her question, his skin rippled. The dark energy surged through him, his body involuntarily shifting—just for a second—revealing the mark of his transformation. The mark of the Conversion. The mark of the Host.

Lara gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. She stumbled back, eyes wide with horror. "Miguel, no!" she screamed, voice laced with anguish. "You—You let them turn you into one of them?! You're a host now?!"

Miguel stepped forward, hands raised, desperation clawing at his chest. "Lara, please, I didn't have a choice! I was captured, tortured! They—"

"You always have a choice!" she shouted, cutting him off. Tears brimmed in her eyes, but her fury kept them at bay. "You were supposed to be the one leading us! You were supposed to fight them, not—" She let out a bitter laugh, disbelief and betrayal written all over her face. "Not this! How could you let this happen?"

The camp had fallen silent. The Banditos, once his comrades, now stared at him as though he were something monstrous, something alien. He could feel the weight of their judgment, and it crushed him.

"I didn't want this," Miguel whispered, voice cracking as his own guilt washed over him. "I never wanted to become one of them."

Lara's chest heaved as she fought to control her breathing, but the pain in her eyes was unbearable. She shook her head slowly, her voice raw. "You're not the man I thought you were, Miguel. The Bishops... they've taken everything from us. And now they've taken you too."

Miguel's heart shattered at her words, but he had no defense, no argument that could take away what he had become. He could feel the dark power inside him, the connection to the Bishops, gnawing at him, whispering in the back of his mind.

Lara's voice broke the silence once more, low and full of venom. "Get out. Leave before I do something I regret." Her hands clenched into fists, shaking with fury. "You're not one of us anymore."

Miguel took a step back, feeling the weight of her words crush him into dust. He looked around the camp—at the faces of those he had fought alongside, now full of suspicion and fear. And then he turned, leaving the camp behind, feeling the cold void inside him grow as he walked away from the only home he had left.

Miguel walked through the thick underbrush, the distant sounds of the Bandito camp fading behind him. His heart was heavy, each step feeling like it was dragging him deeper into the darkness that had overtaken his soul. The memory of Lara's voice, filled with anger and betrayal, echoed in his ears. He couldn't shake it. He didn't know if he ever could.

Leaves crunched beneath his boots as he wandered aimlessly, not knowing where he was going—just that he had to leave. The forest loomed large around him, its shadows closing in, but he didn't care. Maybe the wilderness would swallow him whole, take him away from the torment of what he had become.