Felix stumbled back into the village, his legs barely carrying him as he dragged himself home. His steps were heavy, his body feeling alien and un-naturally slow.
The graveyard had been unsettling—he had felt an unnatural weight there, but now he was back in the world he knew. Back to his sisters, to his chores, and the daily grind of survival.
The village hadn't noticed his absence, not like he expected them too anyway. People still wore the same expressions—haggard, tired, constantly battling the plague that had robbed them of so much. And yet, Felix felt... different.
As the next day came and the morning Suns rose, Felix woke up feeling very relaxed and refreshed - like he could sprint around the village twice without tire.
There was an odd clarity in his mind, something sharper than it had been before. When he walked through the dusty roads and past the half-crumbled homes, it felt like he could see everything in finer detail, the lines of decay on the wood, the faint movements of rats scurrying under the floorboards.
His strength wasn't just mental. Felix noticed that his arms felt stronger, his legs moved faster. He was lighter on his feet, and there was a noticeable absence of fatigue in his body—he could carry more than he ever had before. He could run faster, lift heavier objects, and yet it didn't feel like he was pushing himself.
Days went by and it only got better from there. Each day he felt as if he was twice the boy from yesterday.
It was as though the plague that had once ravaged him was finally... gone. It had been only a few days since he'd returned to the village, and the symptoms that had once held him in their grip were now fading entirely.
He didn't feel the tightness in his chest anymore, the dizziness that had made even standing a struggle, the bumps and sores on his skin finally completely disappeared too. He didn't feel cold. He didn't feel weak.
But there was a gnawing feeling, an unsettling realization in the pit of his stomach. The plague should have killed him. There was no explanation for how he had been spared. He could have just chalked it up to 'A miracle from the Gods', but everybody knew that the faith towards the gods wasn't backed by actual respect and reverence towards their existence, just to have something to believe in to help themselves.
The villagers didn't seem to notice his sudden improvement, too absorbed in their own misery, too caught up in their constant battle for survival.
As Felix continued with his routine, doing his best to help his sisters and maintain his responsibilities, he noticed his mind working in ways it hadn't before. Simple problems—like the logistics of hauling water or fixing a broken piece of wood—suddenly became effortless. It was like a veil had lifted, revealing the solutions with stunning clarity.
One night, after tucking his sisters into their makeshift cribs, he sat down on his cot, his eyes heavy from exhaustion—but also wide awake.
The events of the past few days kept running through his mind. His thoughts circled back to the graveyard, and more specifically, to the eerie moment he had felt... something. That unnatural sensation at the edge of his awareness.
He had no idea what it was. He didn't know why he had gone there. But somehow, by doing so he was healed.
No...not healed, he felt better than ever!
Felix lay there in the dim light, staring at the wooden beams of the ceiling, his thoughts running rampant. He hadn't wanted to go, hadn't wanted to leave his sisters, but some force had pushed him out the door. Some invisible tug had led him to the graveyard, where he'd stood among the corpses, waiting for some sign, some reason why he'd been there.
And then—it had happened.
He hadn't even realized it at the time. But now, as his mind sharpened, it became undeniable.
His body had changed. Something had happened that night, something he couldn't explain.
Before he could think too much about it, he heard a sound.
A voice.
Cold.
Emotionless.
A voice that was not of the world.
"Return to the plague graveyard."
The words slithered into his mind, alien and overpowering, as though they weren't spoken to him, but rather forced through him. It was as if they came from deep within the Earth itself, or perhaps from somewhere far beyond. The voice had no warmth, no comfort—only command.
Felix's heart lurched, his body stiffened.
He shot upright, staring into the empty room, breath caught in his throat.
"Who's there?" he muttered, his voice cracking.
But there was no answer.
His hands shook as he glanced toward the door, toward the path leading out of the village. The same path he had walked just a week ago, the same graveyard that had called him.
He felt no fear, not exactly. But there was something in the voice, something that unsettled him at his core.
Return to the plague graveyard.
He stood there for a moment, the silence pressing in around him. Then, with a cold clarity, he knew. He had to go back.
The second he stepped outside, the chill of the night air washed over him, but it didn't feel cold. He no longer felt the physical ache of illness in his bones, nor the shivering weakness that used to plague him.
He felt stronger now.
But something was pulling him forward, something darker.
Felix hurried through the village, taking the familiar paths he had walked so many times before, but now they seemed different. The shadows were deeper. The air was thicker. And every footstep seemed to echo louder than it should.
He barely even noticed the darkened sky above, the way the stars shone with an unnatural brightness. He was too focused on the strange, pulsing sensation in his chest. Something... was changing in him.
He reached the graveyard sooner than he expected. The silence greeted him, heavy, like an oppressive weight.
He paused at the entrance, looking at the mounds of dirt, the broken remnants of stone tombs, and the hundreds of corpses that lay scattered around.
But now, as Felix stepped deeper into the graveyard, it didn't feel like he was stepping into death. It felt like he was being pulled into something else. Something alive.
The wind shifted as he approached the site where he had first felt that odd sensation—a faint whisper of something in the air. And then, from the edge of his vision, he saw it.
A figure. A silhouette, shifting against the background of the graveyard, something that didn't quite belong. The figure wasn't human—it was something else.
A strange, dark-green mist seemed to hang in the air around him, only visible to Felix for a brief moment before it faded.
And then the birds. These mutated creatures, now towering over him at above five feet tall, their three eyes glinting with malice, their beaks protruding from black flesh, feathers dark and slick with blood.
"What the hell?" He murmured to himself, not wanting to offend the birds and cause his own death.
Felix could feel the presence of something in the air, something far darker than anything he had ever known.
And it was right here, waiting for him.
A voice outside of his head this time, boomed, more influencive than the one before.
"Welcome!"