I Got Reincarnated as a Zombie Girl

Snow fell more heavily than in the days before. White flakes drifted without pause, sheathing the castle walls in a thick layer that shimmered faintly in the light of enchanted torches. A winter wind blew from the north, carrying a bite that would have pierced to the bone though neither the castle's living nor its zombie truly felt it.

Several days had passed since Sylvia decided she would go to the city of Anarats. In that time she made sure the zombies from Nocture had adjusted to this new world. The tower guards had already settled into a disciplined rhythm; the hunters were mapping the surrounding lands; even a few zombie mages had begun erecting magic circles to fortify the defenses. All of it progressed faster than she expected; they were, indeed, different from the zombies native to this world.

Now, in the front courtyard, a luxurious black carriage with silver trim waited. Its wheels were broad and edged with thin steel so they wouldn't sink into the snow. Dark violet velvet curtains veiled the windows, and the door bore Sylvia's sigil: a black rose.

Hitched before it stood a large brown horse with eyes glowing a dim red. It had once been an ordinary beast Sylvia encountered in a small town shortly after the Church attacked Alicia and Stacia. In the chaos, she turned it zombie so it could haul them home safely.

Since then the horse has remained loyal. Unlike most zombie, it retained a sliver of living instinct perhaps because the transformation had been done hastily, in an emergency. As a result it still showed simple emotion: loyalty, spirit, even a hint of joy.

Now, as Sylvia stepped into the yard, the horse stamped its hoof against the ice-hardened ground. Cold vapor puffed from its nostrils, mingling with the misted air, and its red eyes seemed to gleam, awaiting command.

"He seems happy," Alicia remarked, arms folded, shoulders wrapped in a thick mantle. Her silver hair fell loose; faint weariness still shadowed her face, but her gaze stayed fixed on the zombie horse.

Stacia stood beside her and nodded slightly. She wore a dark gray wool cloak with the hood masking part of her hair. "It is strange… a zombie horse that looks spirited. As if it remembers the last time it carried you."

Sylvia studied the animal without much change in expression though a faint light flickered in her crimson eyes. "He is different. He didn't completely lose his instincts." She paused, then added quietly, "Perhaps because I changed him in a rush. Imperfect yet it left a trace of his life behind."

The horse gave a low nicker. It no longer sounded like a normal living animal, yet it wasn't an empty, mindless noise either. It dipped its head deep, as if saluting Sylvia.

Celes, just coming out through the castle gate, took in the scene while straightening a black scarf at her neck. "A queen and her horse," she said in a thin voice that came off like a faint tease. "An odd sight but somehow fitting."

Sylvia glanced her way but didn't answer. She lowered the hood of her black mantle, revealing a pale face flecked with drifting snow. Her clothing was thicker than usual: a long coat lined with black fur, leather gloves, and sturdy boots for trudging through the drifts. Though her zombie body needed no protection from the cold, she wore it all to be less conspicuous in a human city.

At first, she had considered bringing Noir, the black dragon now resting in the rear grounds. But after thinking it through, she decided it would be troublesome. Winter had truly set in; the snowfall was relentless. If she flew on Noir, she would be battered by blizzards with no roof overhead; she would end up more snowman than zombie queen. Besides, Noir's presence would draw the world's eyes at once. Arriving at Anarats atop a colossal black dragon would cause panic and likely provoke attack before she spoke to anyone. A carriage luxurious though it would be wiser, and far more practical.

Sylvia stepped closer and ran a hand along the horse's dull brown mane. Her touch was cold, but the animal didn't flinch. Its body even trembled slightly, as if pleased.

"I'll entrust this journey to you," Sylvia whispered.

Alicia's lips parted like she meant to speak, but she settled for a long breath. "If you've truly decided… we can't stop you. But be careful, Sylvia."

Stacia added more softly, "And don't forget… if you're in danger, call us through the soul link. Alicia and I won't sit still."

Sylvia turned to them, her red eyes gentle beneath the shadow of her hood. "I know. I won't be reckless."

Celes, silent until now, finally spoke. "The carriage is ready. Provisions and water though you may not need them are inside. I prepared travel documents, too, in case the city guard asks questions. They'll take it for a noble's coach."

Sylvia gave a short nod. "Good."

The three Alicia, Stacia, and Celes regarded her without speaking. Something unspoken moved in their eyes: worry, reluctance, but also faith in Sylvia's choice.

A harsher gust swept the yard, shaking snow from the tree limbs around them. Sylvia eased open the carriage door, then looked back briefly. "I'm going. Keep the castle."

Alicia stepped forward as if to add something, but only managed, softly, "Come back safe."

Stacia clutched a small book to her chest, eyes bright. "And bring the answers we need."

Celes simply met her gaze and said quietly, "Don't let anyone dictate your choices."

Sylvia paused a heartbeat, then inclined her head once. She climbed into the carriage and closed the door. The hinge's iron groan hung a moment then silence returned.

The zombie horse nickered again, its hooves tossing snow. With a single pull on the reins, it started forward, drawing the heavy coach easily over the snow-clad cobbles. The wheels turned, carving long tracks across the courtyard's white.

From the tower balcony the zombie sentries watched the departure with empty eyes, bodies held straight in wordless respect. Noir, reclining in the rear field, cracked one eye open with a weighty snort, then shut it again as if understanding it wasn't his turn this time.

Inside the carriage, Sylvia sat still, her back resting against black velvet. She lifted the curtain slightly, taking a final look at the black castle standing grand amid the snowstorm.

Anarats… she thought, eyes narrowing. Lumielle's temple… and perhaps the answers I seek.

The carriage rolled on, gradually fading into the veils of falling snow. The road toward the truth had begun marked by the steady hoofbeats of a loyal zombie horse, witness to their queen's decision.

The coach rattled softly over the snow-cloaked stone. That sound braided with the measured drumming of the zombie horse's hooves heavy, steady, sure. Outside, the world was white as a blank page: trees caked in snow, branches bowed beneath their burden, and now and then a gust that spun fine flakes into the air like glittering dust.

Within, Sylvia reclined. She kept the velvet curtain half-drawn, letting her gaze drift across the changing winter scape. Her face remained calm, yet a rare, quiet ease hovered there, something absent amid the bustle of the castle.

The carriage rode smoothly, hardly jostling. The zombie horse seemed accustomed to the path, stepping with certainty as though it could sense the road beneath the snow. Cold vapor drifted from its mouth, yet its body never tired.

Sylvia tapped the armrest with a fingertip tiny sounds to fill the hush. "You really can manage without a driver," she murmured, knowing the horse wouldn't answer.

Even so, a small shift of its gait felt like a response. Sylvia's lips curved faintly. "Yes… you are different."

Time went thick in winter. The sun showed only dimly behind heavy clouds, more dusk-light than day. Snow kept falling, erasing the carriage's tracks within minutes, as if swallowing their presence from the world.

In the distance, ranks of pines lined the way boughs weighted white, dark trunks like silent sentinels. Now and again, a black bird flashed past, wings beating quick, then vanished behind the trees.

She straightened and reached for a small metal cup on the rack. The herbal tea was still warm thanks to a magic vessel nursed by a whisper of Nether Flame. Steam rose, misting the cold window glass.

"Just a short trip," she told herself. "Twelve hours… enough to think."

And so, throughout the journey, her thoughts turned. To Lumielle. To the Church. To the world beneath her feet. Alicia and Stacia left at the castle.

Alicia is probably scolding a servant for serving the wrong meal, she mused, a tiny smile tugging her lips. And Stacia… likely buried in a book again. Some small warmth bloomed at the thought, even as the world outside froze solid.

The carriage rolled on. The road sloped down into a small vale veiled with thin fog. Sylvia leaned forward and peered out. Through the haze she saw an old stone bridge spanning a partly frozen river. Black water ran beneath the thin skin of ice, glinting pale in the weak light.

The zombie horse crossed without hesitation. The wheels grated loudly, echoes bouncing from the valley walls.

Satisfied, Sylvia leaned back again and picked up the little book beside her, the recipe book she'd brought along days ago. She thumbed a few pages, eyes tracking slowly.

"Meat soup with sweetroot… baked herb bread…" she read under her breath. "I've never really had the time to try these."

Silence again just hooves and wheels. She closed the book and studied its cover for a long moment. "Maybe someday, when all of this is over."

Onward they went. The sun crept, almost imperceptibly. Day thinned into afternoon; light dimmed; the sky grayed over. Snow still fell, but finer now, like mist drifting from the heavens.

Around mid-afternoon the carriage eased to a halt. Sylvia sat up. "Why stop?" she asked evenly, though she knew an answer would present itself.

The zombie horse gave a low nicker and turned its head toward the roadside. Sylvia pulled the curtain wider, eyes narrowing.

A fallen tree lay across part of the path. Snow blanketed it, but the dark trunk still showed through.

Sylvia released a quiet sigh. "Even a road like this insists on an obstacle."

She opened the door and stepped down. Her boots sank deep into the snow. Cold air greeted her, tossing her dark hair. She approached the downed tree and raised her hand.

Nether Flame bloomed purple-black fire with a soft hiss. At a touch the frozen wood took, burning slow and clean. No smoke, only the crackle of splitting grain and that strange, hungry glow. In seconds the trunk went to cold ash, devoured by the flame, leaving the path open.

The horse stamped once, as if to signal the way was clear. Sylvia spared it a brief look, then climbed back inside. "Continue."

The carriage moved again.

Time slipped by. Afternoon sank to dusk; night gathered. Small enchanted lamps along the coach walls flicked on, bathing the interior in gentle light. Sylvia closed her eyes a moment, letting her body settle into the seat.

Outside, the sky was dark and pricked with faint stars. The moon hid behind clouds, yet its pallor still leaked through, skimming the wide fields of snow. The road to Anarats ran straight now, crossing a vacant open plain.

Sylvia opened her eyes and glanced out. No sign of danger. No humans, no Church soldiers. Only a silent, frozen world as if waiting.

"A fragile peace," she murmured. "Like this snow… beautiful, but ready to collapse at any time."

The zombie horse kept its pace, unflagging. Vapored breath puffed from its mouth, but its stride never faltered. As if it, too, knew this journey mattered.

Hours rolled past. Sylvia sat quietly, sometimes reading, sometimes gazing outward. Her mind turned; her body remained still. And at last perhaps twelve hours later she spied a faint glow in the distance.

City lights.

Anarats.

She swept the curtain aside, eyes narrowing. Through night haze and falling snow, the city walls emerged: high, solid, lit by great torches spaced along their length. The main gate rose tall, guarded by human soldiers who looked small from afar yet stood in disciplined ranks.

The carriage slowed, iron-rimmed wheels crunching more softly over the snow. The zombie horse halted directly before the outer gate, body rigid as a statue.

Sylvia straightened, a faint red gleam in her eyes. "Finally… we've arrived."