Adventure of Lazorus Kan 1

The dark forest closes around Lazorus Kan more than seven miles from the village. His wounded leg drags through wet leaves, each step leaving a dark mark behind.

Beside him lies Lylith, a dead baby girl fully concealed by the blanket, his dead baby sister, wrapped tightly in the blanket he carried. The bundle is still, while branches crack somewhere behind the trees.

A smear of blood crosses a pale root and disappears beneath ferns. Farther back, another branch snaps, followed by a pause that feels deliberate.

The forest offers no moonlit path, only black trunks and narrow gaps between them. The air smells of pine, damp earth, and old ash from the cult’s fire.

Behind him, something steps onto the blood-marked trail. It does not hurry. The sound stops whenever Lazorus Kan’s breathing grows quiet.

Lylith’s wrapped form rests within reach. The darkness waits around both siblings, and the unseen pursuer draws nearer through the trees.

Lazorus Kane kneels beside Lylith’s bundled form, bracing himself against a wet root. The movement pulls at his wounded leg, and fresh blood darkens the leaves.

He grips the bolt’s feathered end with both hands and twists. The shaft creaks, then snaps cleanly, leaving the shortened bolt lodged in his leg.

The broken feathers fall beside his knee. For a moment, the forest holds its breath except for the faint shift of something beyond the trees.

Lazorus Kane takes ahold of the remaining part of the crossbow bolt and pulls. The arrowhead comes away, leaving the wound open but unburdened.

The severed metal drops into the leaves. Blood wells steadily, but the bolt no longer juts from his leg or catches against the ground.

Behind him, a careful footstep presses into the blood-marked trail. Lylith remains within reach, and the darkness waits between the trunks.

Lazorus stills his breathing and turns his attention inward. The forest’s ordinary darkness thins, replaced by pale traces clinging to every living thing and every place touched by death.

The sight reaches beyond the blanket. Lylith’s presence is quiet and finished, while a colder, distorted residue clings to the blood-marked trail behind him.

The residue resolves into a distinct undead signature, not in the trees but moving along the trail. The Unseen Follower is dead in a way Lylith is not.

Holding the sight costs him precious seconds. When he releases it, the forest has shifted around him, and the follower’s exact distance is still uncertain.

The cold signature remains somewhere behind the trunks, advancing without haste. Lylith stays within reach, untouched by the presence that follows.

Lazorus tears a long strip from the blanket’s edge, keeping Lylith’s bundled form covered. He presses the cloth firmly over the open wound and winds it tight around his leg.

The bandage darkens as it takes the blood, but the pressure holds. He braces one hand against the root and shifts his weight carefully onto the injured leg.

Pain locks his breath for a moment. Then Lazorus rises, unsteady but upright, with Lylith still within reach beneath the blanket.

His hand finds the scythe where it lies among the wet leaves. He closes his fingers around its haft and brings the blade up beside him.

The forest seems to notice the change. His stance is guarded, his wrapped leg trembling beneath him, while the scythe’s edge catches a dull thread of gray light.

Beyond the blood-marked trail, something stops moving. A single foot presses into the leaves, nearer than before, and the cold residue gathers between the trees.

Lazorus bends and gathers Lylith’s bundled body against his chest. He plants the scythe’s haft on to the earth, using it as a crutch to take the weight off his wounded leg.

The motion tears at the bandage. Blood seeps warm beneath the cloth, and his knee shudders, but his grip keeps Lylith covered and secure.

He glances back along the bloodied trail. Between the trunks, the Unseen Follower remains only a cold distortion, its presence fixed on the place he left.

Lazorus drives the scythe forward and limps after it, carrying Lylith away from the trail. Wet roots catch his boot, and his shoulder strikes a trunk hard enough to numb his arm.

He clears the blood-marked path and reaches darker ground beneath the pines. Behind him, the leaves shift once, but the follower does not yet emerge.