The Last Stand of Flesh and Bone
I can feel my heart pounding in the silence before the storm. Around me, the living form ragged lines, weapons trembling in sweat-slicked hands. Before us, the dead march—endless, tireless, eyes hollow with stolen fire. This is it. The final reckoning. Not for territory, not for glory, but for the right to *end*. To rest. Or to live. I don’t know which side fate will claim. But I know I have to choose—fight, fall, or try to end it all before the dawn.My breath fogs the inside of my helm, each gasp louder than the marching dead ahead. The ground trembles—not from footsteps, but from something deeper. Something waking.
Kaelen grabs my arm. 'If we lose here, there’s nothing after. No heaven. No hell. Just... silence.'
Behind us, the last of the Living Guard load the Soulcannons—weapons that erase souls, not bodies. In front, the horizon splits open as the first of the Undying Kings rises from the earth, crown forged from broken prayers.
Dross whispers in my ear, 'They don’t want to win. They want to stop. Just like you.'
The horns blow. The match begins. And I have one order to give.
De7nzy
works: 41
Whispers of the Death Forest
I shouldn’t have come back. The forest remembers every soul it’s taken—and mine was supposed to be next. Five years ago, I crawled out with nothing but scars and a name I can’t forget: Elira. They say she’s dead. But the dreams won’t stop. She’s calling me, not in words, but in blood. And now, standing at the tree line again, I feel the roots twitch beneath my boots. This place isn’t just alive. It’s waiting. For me. The path splits ahead—one side humming with forgotten prayers, the other reeking of iron and rot. If I turn back, I live. But if I go forward… I might finally learn what I did that night.
Dark Harvest
You wake up in a field you don’t remember entering, your hands stained with soil and something darker. The air is thick with the scent of rotting grain and iron. Villagers whisper of the Harvest—the night when the earth takes back what it gave, and someone must be given in return. This year, your name was drawn. But you didn’t die. You woke up… changed. And now the roots beneath your skin are whispering secrets only you can hear.
Death Wish
I don’t want to live anymore—but death keeps rejecting me. Every bullet stalls mid-air, every fall slows before impact, every flame parts around my skin like it’s afraid. The doctors say I’m broken. The government says I’m a weapon. The cult on the rooftops says I’m the Harbinger of End Times. Maybe they’re all right. But when the pain becomes too much, and I finally find a way to die… what happens if I succeed?
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.