Chương 2: Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End

Alice awoke to a low squelch. She looked around her room through glazed eyes. A large shadow stirred in the corner. It swelled and expanded. The moonlight trickling in from the blinds vanished the moment it touched the splotch of darkness. What is that? Why is it… why is it moving? The shadow rose, dark tendrils unfurling across the walls. It coalesced into a figure, shaped like a man but as dark as tar. Its face was devoid of all features, and its arms hung long beside its knees.

The stench of rotting flesh filled her lungs. What is that!? Alice tried to leap out of her bed, but her limbs refused to move. She stiffened up like a rock, her eyes forced open by some inexplicable energy. She tried to scream, but only a soundless whisper escaped her throat. Father! Mother! Help me! Please help me! A deep voice echoed inside her head.

"Do not fear. I am not your enemy." No! No! Get away from me! Please! Please! The figure strode forward, shedding chunks of tarred skin and flesh with every step. It stopped by her bedside and leaned, its featureless head mere inches away from her face. Droplets of a gooey black substance trickled onto her cheeks. What… what are you?

"Awaken." The figure cupped her chin, its long, spindly fingers digging into her flesh, smearing a deep black taint.

"Sight beyond sight. Life beyond life. Death is not an end, but merely a beginning." A jolt of pain tore through her body. Her chest throbbed in agony, as though something was about to burst out. The black taint rapidly grew, enveloping every inch of her face in cobwebs of darkness. She gasped as deep tendrils crept into her nostrils and crawled into her ears. It hurts! It hurts! Make it stop! Despite the pain, she was completely frozen stiff. Tears swelled in the corners of her eyes—the only sign of her agony.

Some deep, bellowing laughter echoed in her ears.

"Accept my gift. And you will see the truth. Your soul and flesh will birth the End of Times. You are a savior. A destroyer. Your hand shall conjure atrocities the world has never witnessed. You will dye rivers red in blood and raise mountains from the corpses of billions, but it is the only way." The figure pulled away and turned around.

"If your fate belongs to another path, you will survive. Yet, if you are what I seek, you will fulfill your destiny." Alice let out a soundless scream as the tendrils dug into her eyes. And there, she witnessed it. A tide of a billion anguished faces and mangled bodies sweeping across entire civilizations, burying the entire world in its redness. Spires of corpses rose from the crimson, kissing the pitch-black skies. And she stood at the very center, the End unfolding from her own flesh.

"Shatter our cage. Break free from the grasp of Death and save us all." Darkness quickly flooded her vision, and the last thing she saw was the figure stepping into the wall, vanishing without a trace. As the agony soared to a new high, a deep rumbling stirred within her stomach. Then everything ceased. Only silence and darkness persisted. Even her mind faltered, retreating into the unseen depths of herself. A faint cawing rang in her ears, followed by the sound of scratching.

With a soft groan, Alice roused from her slumber and fluttered her eyes open. Her eyes darted around her room in confusion. What… what happened? Was that just… a nightmare? She grabbed her own face, tugging and twisting at her cheeks as though to ascertain that this was reality. Thank the Lady… She sighed in relief. A loud caw echoed from her window and made her jump in fear. She pulled apart the blinds and saw a large crow perched on the windowsill.

It tilted its head and stared back at her with its beady red eyes gleaming with unfounded intelligence.

"Pesky bird." She knocked on the glass. The crow cawed and flew away. She closed the blinds again and crawled out of bed. Her gaze roamed the floor, searching for the bits and pieces of flesh that were never there. The pale white pall in the corner of her room was just that: a bit old and battered, but nothing more. Get yourself together. It was just a nightmare. She instinctively made her way to the small silver mirror sitting on her dresser. She made sure to admire herself for a good few seconds.

She was a young girl who seemed no more than fourteen, her eyes bright silver and shining like two moons. She was as pale as a corpse, with long raven hair that swept down to her waist. My hair's getting a bit long. Maybe I'll ask Mother to cut it. Her lips curled upward as she placed the mirror down. A loud knock sounded at her chamber door.

"Coming!" She pulled it open and stepped back. A long-rotted head moaned deeply at her, its skin dark and gangrenous, with bits and pieces replaced by bare metal and leather. It wore a black servant's vest, with thick gloves covering its hands and a piece of cloth strapped around its mouth.

"Breakfast… breakfast is ready…" Alice flinched a little; thank goodness it had no smell. It was their Ghoul Servant, responsible for all the pesky chores her mother was too lazy to be bothered with.

"Good morning, Stephen. I'll be right down." Alice ran her fingers through her hair, trying to make herself look at least half presentable. Then she stepped out of her room and followed the ghoul down the stairs. She took in the hearty smell of cooked meat and vegetables as she went into the dining room. Her mother, Cynthia, stood by an open stove, gently stirring a large pot of that classic Norden Stew. She was just as pale as Alice, with black shoulder-length hair and deep blue eyes.

Indeed, she might as well have been the standard for Norden beauty with her tall and strong figure.

"Morning, honey. Sleep well?" She cast a kind smile at Alice, revealing faint fangs peeking out. Stew again? Well, it is winter, so I suppose I can't be too picky.

"Yeah, I guess so." Alice sat down by the long dining table. No point in telling her. What am I? Five years old? Cynthia placed the pot in the center of the table.

"Stephen! Get us some bowls over here!" Stephen moaned and grabbed three bowls from the open drawer. It even grabbed a handful of silverware.

"Here…" It lowered them onto the table one by one.

"You know, I was a little skeptical when I bought him. But he's been very helpful with the chores, don't you think?" Cynthia said. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"He's… alright. If a little unpleasant to look at. Can't we cover up his face?"

"It's not that bad. You should know he's already very high quality; you should see the ones outside. You'd think they're fresh out of the grave." And this one isn't? Goodness, are my mother's eyes alright? Alice frowned at Stephen for a second.

"If you say so…" Then she shook her head.

"Where's Father? Is he not eating with us again?"

"He's in the basement, as always. He'll be up here soon enough." Cynthia shook her head and sighed.

"What's he doing down there anyway?"

"I doubt you'd want to hear about it before eating."

"Ri… right. Right." Alice's face twitched.

"You know what? I'll go get him. Don't want our food to get cold." She pushed her chair back and disappeared into the hallway. Alone, Alice tapped her fingers against the table. She looked at Stephen, who stood by an open window. He swayed back and forth without a single thought in his head; it was a complete mystery to her as to how he functioned. I suppose he was human once too. But what about now? How does he know to listen? To move even— Alice winced as a sharp pain throbbed at the back of her eyes. Ugh…

that hurts… She blinked hard and rubbed her eyelids. When she opened them, a strange sight greeted her. Stephen glowed with this pale blue light. Not only that, but his clothes, even the walls and floors around him, had turned gray. Her eyes darted around, and she realized the entire room had become colorless. Even the carrots floating in her stew weren't spared. Huh? What's going on? Alice rubbed her eyes as the sharp pain faded away. She blinked a few times, and the carrots turned orange once more.

The room regained its colors, and Stephen still stood by the window, devoid of any strange sparkling anomalies. What on earth was that? Am I seeing things now? When footsteps echoed in the hallway, she quickly straightened her back and wore a simple, if not a little impatient, smile. Cynthia emerged with her father, Jaime, a step or two behind. He had short blonde hair combed backward and dim silver eyes behind a pair of brass glasses. He had a pale complexion that had seen more days in the morgue than outside.

Alice didn't know how old he was, but she'd guess he was around his early forties. Quite older than her mother. Jaime sat down opposite Alice. He looked straight at her, and yet his gaze seemed ever distant.

"Good morning, Father," Alice said. Jaime nodded and looked away, grabbing a spoon. There it is. He doesn't even greet me most days… almost as if I'm invisible to him.

"There we go, we can finally eat." Cynthia sat beside Jaime, casting a warm smile at Alice. At least I have Mother. Alice took her utensils and finally indulged in the meal. The soup was perfectly salted and peppered, with a slight trace of sweetness that made it feel like heaven on her tongue. The vegetables were alright, but she much preferred munching the small chunks of meat, so soft and juicy. She looked up, eyeing her parents for a moment.

Cynthia blew on her bowl before taking a spoonful, while Jaime simply lifted the entire bowl and sipped from the edge. No one spoke; only the sounds of eating came from the table. Alice sighed inwardly and continued her meal. After this I can finally finish reading that book. Then I'll move on to the next one. Alice hummed softly. Her eyes throbbed in pain again. She dropped the spoon, her face twisting and her vision blurring. Ugh… again…

"Alice, are you alright?" a distorted voice called out to her.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." Alice reached beneath the table and grabbed the spoon.

"I think something flew into my—" She froze stiff. At the right end of the table, there was a third pair of legs. It was thin and gray, with bare feet covered in cuts and bruises. It was standing right there, right beside them. Who… who is that? What in God's name…

"Alice? Is something wrong?" the distorted voice called out again. Can't they see it? Am I… am I the only one seeing that? Alice gulped as she reeled her head back ever so slowly and gazed across the table. An emaciated woman stood on the right side, clad in nothing but torn rags. Swollen warts and pustules pulsated across her chest and shoulders. Her face was split right in two, with one half covered by her dark, mangled hair, and the other scarred with grotesque burns that still squelched and oozed pus. A ghost…

it's a ghost…

"Alice, is the food not to your liking?" The distorted voice rang out. The woman cracked her neck, a pale white eye shining through her dark hair. Alice shut her eyes hard, the spoon trembling in her hand. Help me… am I seeing things? No… but that thing is real… it's right there… it's right there… The pain in her eyes slowly subsided. She opened them slowly, and to her shock and relief, the woman was gone.

"Alice, hey. Talk to me." Cynthia snapped her fingers. Alice gazed back at her parents. Cynthia wore this look of worry, her brows all scrunched up, while Jaime stared with a half-curious expression, the most emotion she'd seen on her father's face.

"You didn't see anything?" Alice whispered as she kept her eyes glued to her parents, not daring to look right. Jaime crossed his arms.

"See what?"

"Oh…" Alice gulped. He didn't see it. They didn't see it. But it was right there. It was right beside us.

"Dear, are you alright? You're pale." Cynthia reached her hand out, cupping Alice's cheek. I need to get out of here.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. I… I'm going to the bathroom." Alice sprang to her feet and hurried down the hallway. A hot acidic sensation burned inside her stomach as she stumbled into the bathroom. She shut the door behind her and locked it. She twisted in pain as she felt the food she just ate coiling back up her throat, threatening to let loose. What was that? What the hells was that? … I'm going to puke. She grabbed the edges of the toilet bowl, and with a loud retch she vomited.

Her entire body shook as tears welled in her eyes, the image of the woman replaying in her head as she emptied her stomach in one full go. I'm dreaming… this must be a nightmare… it's just a nightmare. You're going to wake up soon. Alice pulled back, looking at the blend of vomit and water stagnating inside the toilet bowl through her teary-eyed vision. She took a deep breath and looked at herself in the mirror. She was a heaving mess with barf staining her lips, and the whites of her eyes turning a light red.

"Dear! Are you alright in there?!" Cynthia knocked on the bathroom door. It's just a dream. It's just a dream. Alice repeated in her head like some ancient mantra. The pain flared again, threatening to rip her eyes right out. She gritted her teeth and pushed herself back against the wall, the world turning a pallid gray before her. There, she caught a figure hunched inside the corner shower. It was a man wearing a drenched suit, his face distorted into a senseless coiling spiral.

With a guttural moan echoing from a hole at the center of his face, he slammed his head against the shower wall. Help me, God. I'm not dreaming, am I? The pain faded as quickly as it came, and the figure vanished into thin air, the colors of the bathroom rapidly returning. It's gone, just like before. The pain—it… it makes me see them. If I can see them, surely they can see me as well. That means… there's no reason why they can't hear me too.

"Alice?! What's going on?! Can you unlock the door?" Cynthia's voice echoed in her ears. She doesn't see them. There's no point in telling them; they'd think I'm lying or… or worse. And what if those… those things hear me talking about them? What would happen to me then? And who knows how many more are nearby. Alice took in a deep breath and wiped the barf from her lips.

"I'm fine, I'm just not feeling well," she murmured, just loud enough that Cynthia could hear her on the other side.

"Okay, dear. Just—just tell me if you need anything."

"Yeah… I'm fine, really." Alice flushed the toilet. Stay calm. Don't do anything stupid. If… if they don't know I can see them, then they won't do anything. Just pretend everything is normal and go back to the table. The pain started out of nowhere; maybe, maybe it'll go away too. You don't see dead people. Just eat, Alice, just eat. Alice opened the bathroom door. Cynthia was right there with a worried look plastered on her face.

"Are you really fine?" Cynthia placed her hand on Alice's shoulder.

"I—I vomited back there." Cynthia peeked into the bathroom.

"Oh, this is why you shouldn't eat so quickly." She grabbed Alice's arm and gently helped her back into the dining room.

"Luckily there's still some soup left in the pot. And eat slowly this time, will you?"

"Sorry… I'll keep that in mind." If only I could tell her. If only she'd believe me. When they arrived, Jaime looked up at Alice without a shred of concern on his face.

"Sit back down and finish your meal." Alice nodded and returned to her seat, her eyes landing on the half-empty bowl of soup in front of her. She didn't dare look right, or anywhere else for that matter. Cynthia poured her a glass of water.

"Here, drink some water first and rest for a while." She then turned to the ghoul and said, "Stephen! Bring her some more soup." Alice gazed into the glass of water, seeing her own reflection. Can I really do this?