"Hey Claire," Mark hissed, nudging the woman with the tip of his elbow.
Something had gotten on his nerve, and she was damn sure he wouldn't stop until he got an answer.
-- Heatherhills, Base camp -- 2017 --
"What?" she asked, her tone muffled by the rhythmic footsteps of the guards who marched before them. Suspicious gazes washed over the pack as they walked through the base, most of the local inhabitants turning their faces away with disgust the moment they chose to look back. The feeling was starting to get on her nerves.
"Don't you think they're a bit, you know..." Mark trailed off, leaving off the parts which should've been obvious to anyone by now.
"Weird?" Claire replied, averting her eyes from the camp's inhabitants. She let her gaze wander through the walls instead, musing herself with the old-fashioned kerosene lamps that lines the damp brick tunnel.
"What the fuck..." Mark whispered again, this time with his eyes trained somewhere on the dimly lit tunnel walls.
"Now what is it this time?"
Mark shuddered, his finger pointing towards the rusted lamp. "Over there."
Claire trained her eyes, her gaze now wandering the walls.
No way.
Under the lamp was a miniature sigil, drawn in red. It was a pattern of concentric circles, painted in dotted lines.
In the centre of it all was the mark of a crimson palm.
We have to warn them!
Claire's eyes scanned the walkway, looking for Sarah.
Where is she? Wait, where's Mark?
Claire's heart thundered in her chest as she watched her pack split in two. They had been divided into sections of men and women, Sarah walking along side Roland as he led the men to their quarters with a squadron of guards. Her gaze shifted to Reyna who was now cracking the joints on her neck, eager for a good night's sleep.
"REY!"
"Wha-" Reyna stopped mid word when she saw Claire raise a finger to her lips.
"What?"
"We need to get out of here, now."
The sound of machinery whirred from somewhere below them.
"What? Why?"
"You know how the campers from Drydocks were served in a platter sunny side up." Reyna felt a huge lump clog her throat as the words slowly begun to make sense. "I think we've got our chefs."
The guards in front of them came to a halt, encircling the group of women. "We're here."
They were in a holding cell again, this time a bit larger. Shackles and chains hung from the damp brick walls.
"I thought you said you had beds," Reyna snapped.
"We've got a table. That's all we need, right Raymond?"
The man walked into the room, a malicious grin plastered on his face. "That's all we need boys."
"So how're we gonna go this time boss? Wanna start with the youngest?" said a guard, his eyes slowly trailing toward Beth. Raymond smiled at Reyna, silently taunting her.
"Son of a whore!" Reyna dashed forward, her hand feeling for the blade sheathed on her utility belt.
Oh fuck.
YOU ARE READING
Where Light Dies
Fantasy--Completed-- Book 1/3 - A Phantom's Light The world has ended. It has been nearly two decades since humanity fell. The skies have turned a vile crimson, and the earth now lies smeared in the blood of billions. In a realm overrun by demons...
