Embers of the Dead

The moment Alina stepped inside the building, the world seemed to close in around her. The walls were made of crude stone and wood, dark with age, and the air inside was thick with dust and decay. The skeletal warriors moved like shadows, walking in and out of rooms, tending to their duties without a word.

Alina's heart still pounded in her chest. But she was determined. She had to learn, had to understand what was happening. She had to find a way back.

But then, as she followed the woman deeper into the building, something strange happened.

A mirror, cracked and broken, hung on the wall of a narrow corridor. She barely noticed it at first, but as she passed by, something compelled her to stop. She turned, staring at the reflection.

Her reflection.

Her stomach dropped as she gazed into the mirror. The woman had been right.

Her skin. It wasn't just pale. It was decayed, grey, a sickly hue like the corpses she'd seen outside. Her once-healthy hair hung in ragged strands, and the flesh around her eyes was sunken, revealing the underlying bone. Her lips were cracked, her teeth yellowed. She had become like them.

A living corpse.

The realization hit her like a slap to the face. She stumbled back, a wave of nausea rising in her throat.

"Not so different from them now, are you?" The woman's voice echoed from behind her, cold and knowing. "You are a servant of death, Alina. Just like the others. You will never return to the world you knew. There is no going back."

Alina's hands shook as she gripped the edge of the table to steady herself. The horror of her reflection made it all real. She had died. But somehow, she was still here, trapped in this limbo, forced to serve a stranger, an unknown power, with no hope of escape.

Her body was decaying. She was one of them now.

Her thoughts were clouded, but one thing remained clear: she couldn't go back to what she knew.

And this place… it would never let her go.