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(TATB) Ch 12: The Burning fields, The Looming Face!
🕑 Added 2025-03-10 20:05:46 +0000 UTC(Victor)
My boots sank into the blood-soaked earth, and the ground squelched as he shifted. Every inch around my surroundings were littered with the remains of giants and Lilliputians alike-scattered limbs, twisted faces frozen in terror or rage, blank eyes staring into nothing. A thick swarm of flies droned above, mosquitoes buzzing, feasting on the dead. The stench was suffocating, a mix of iron, decay, and rot that clawed at the back of my throat.
I stared down the hill, the sight stretching out endlessly. A horrifying stillness settled over me as I took it all in. This wasn't a victory. It was something else, something I didn't have words tor. My chest tightened, a hollow ache growing as I watched the rivers of blood twisting their way through the bodies, deep enough to drown whole battalions of Lilliputians.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
The voice jolted me, and I spun around, heart pounding. There he was—a man, standing just a few paces from me. He was about my height, dressed in a long black coat with a silver chestplate shining dully in the dying sunlight. His face was hidden behind a white mask, giving him a strange, haunting look, like he was a piece of this battlefield that had come to life.
"This," he said, his voice a low hum that made my skin crawl. "This is your paradise."
A cold chill settled over me, and my gaze flicked back down to the field of corpses, to the faces of the fallen Brobs, their massive forms towering like hills even in death. Each face twisted, mouths agape, and those hollow eyes... they stared back at me, accusing. It was as if they knew something, something I didn't want to understand.
"My paradise?" | asked, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. My pulse was racing, anger and terror twisting in my stomach. "This... this couldn't be my paradise!"
The man didn't respond. His mask hid everything, but somehow, I knew he was smiling underneath, mocking me.
Then, slowly, he raised his arm, pointing with one gloved finger out beyond the carnage. I followed his direction, looking west, just past the wasteland, over to the shimmering edge of the ocean. And there, emerging like shadows against the sun, was a line of figures, all in uniform.
Brobs. More of them.
A cold sweat ran down my back, my breath catching in my throat as I realized what that meant. There was no end. I had fought, had survived this horror, but here they were. Waiting. I felt as if the ground had dropped out beneath me.
"The battle's unfinished," the man's voice came again, dark and commanding. "It won't be finished until they are all wiped out."
His mask started to crack, thin fractures crawling across it like spiderwebs. It crumbled, piece by piece, revealing a face-or something close to it. Where his features should've been was only a dark, smoky void, swirling, almost alive. I tried to pull back, but my legs wouldn't move. His eyes—or where his eyes should have been-were locked on me, as if drawing me in.
"Fight!" he roared, the word seeming to echo, rattling through my bones.
A strange pull surged through me, like he was dragging me forward, back into the fight, back into the endless blood and death. And as I looked into that black void where his face should've been, a scream clawed up my throat.
***
I blinked, my eyes straining as they adjusted to the dim light. There was a hazy outline of someone above me, and I felt a hand on my shoulder, shaking me.
"Victor, wake up." The voice was soft but insistent, pulling me back from the darkness that lingered in my mind.
I squinted, slowly bringing her face into focus—Meara. Her dark eyes searched mine, worry etched into every line of her face. She was close, leaning over me, her hand still resting on my shoulder.
"Uh?" I muttered, the fog of sleep and... something else, something darker, still hanging over me. My thoughts were murky, like they were buried under layers of ash.
"The Brob... she's come back,"
***
(Meara)
Meara looked down at Victor, his eyes still clouded with sleep, his breaths coming uneven. She could tell he was caught in the tail-end of another nightmare. She'd seen it too many times—the way his face would twist up, like he was somewhere far worse than here. For a moment, she thought about waking him sooner, pulling him from whatever dark place his mind wandered to when he closed his eyes.
"He has a lot of those," she thought to herself, feeling a small ache of sympathy. How could he sleep in a situation like this? she wondered. Here they were, nothing but specks in the hands of a Brob they knew nothing about, trapped by one of the very giants who haunted their nightmares. Every Lilli grew up hearing stories of capture, of helplessness, and of the utter hopelessness that followed, but to be living it—she could barely let herself think of it.
Yet somehow, he had managed to find sleep. Maybe he was so worn out that even fear couldn't keep him awake. Or maybe, she thought with a pang, he was already used to horrors like these.
I reached down to Victor, his hand cold and a little shaky in mine as I pulled him to his feet. His eyes were still clouded with that distant, haunted look, the one he always wore after a nightmare. He'd been having a lot of those lately. Too many.
"Come on," I whispered. "We should stay with the group."
He nodded, his gaze finally clearing a bit, though there was still a weariness about him. But then everything dimmed as a shadow loomed over us, casting a heavy, dark light through the glass walls of the vial.
Victor and I turned at the same time, and my stomach twisted as I took in the sight. A face—so massive it filled the entire view beyond the glass—peered down at us. A woman, with sharp, clear eyes that seemed to study each of us like we were insects pinned in a display case. Her dark hair framed her face, and that cold, thin smile pressed against her lips sent a chill through me. The way she looked at us was... detached, like we were nothing but samples to be examined.
Every instinct screamed at me to back away, but there was nowhere to go. She was so close, I could see the faintest lines in her skin, the focus in her eyes as they moved across the vial. My hand tightened around Victor's arm, a reflex I couldn't control. But I forced my voice to stay steady as I looked over at him.
"I think it's showtime," I said, trying to keep the fear out of my voice, trying to be the strong one. He needed that. And maybe I did too.
