Artix's POV.


That sound rang through my ears as the zombies walked slowly towards me, only to be cut down by the hatchet that was gripped tightly in my shaking and sweating hands. These zombies, they are... were people that I knew and loved, people that I had grown up with; now they were all undead, cursed to forever walk Lore mindlessly, being under the control of others and have no say in what they do or don't do. They're all gone: the crazy old lady across from home, the blacksmith right next door, my parents... I had to re-kill them too, as I fought for my life to leave the village that I called home. When I reached the exit, the sound that those undead made was gone; I had re-killed every, last, one of them. My neighbors, friends, and family, all dead for good... because of me. With a bowed head, I left the ruins of the place I called home.

One hour later.

The sound of the now cursed forest left me shaking in my boots; my hands clenched the hatchet so tightly, that my knuckles turned white. Suddenly, a flying creature swooped from the haunted trees, there was then a flash of bright, red light and then a searing pain in my left leg. Panicking, I swung my hatchet through the air; then came the sickening sound of a hatchet passing through monster flesh. The monster was an eyeball... with wings. The horrid stench of its smoking remains filled my nostrils. I heard the howl of a wolf and then ran towards no particular place.

Then, something grabbed me by the nape of my shirt, and lifted me in the air. I met the ground with a painful thud. I quickly rolled away and looked to see my adversary; it was a tree, a tree with eyes, limbs, fingers, everything that a human has. Its wooden hands came falling towards me; I quickly got up and dodged to the side, but the tree was still able to scratch me. With all my might I swung horizontally at the tree, as cut to cut it down; and I did, the tree split in two but not, however, cleanly. I continued on my journey out of the wood.

I started to hear a splashing sound when I received a hard punch by something very slimy, I could feel my ribs crack and shatter at the blow. I turned to face the monster and saw a large pile of green goo. I attempted to kill it, but to no avail: my hatchet just passed through it. I then did the only thing I could do: run from the slimy monster.

I met several more horrors in that wood: Skeletons, some armed with spears that pierced my shoulders, some armed with battle-axes that almost removed my head from my body, others armed with swords that nearly skewered me, and some armed with potions that stung and burned my skin; fish men that sprayed with water so cold, I thought my flesh would come off; and many, many more horrors. I was at the very edge of the forest, when I was ambushed. Zombies came out of nowhere and started attacking me. My mind flashed back to when I fought against the undead villagers, and for that second, the zombies were able to attack me. I fought back as best I could, but to no avail; they were too many, so I ran. I was able to lose them; but when I arrived at the edge of the forest, I couldn't go any further: I collapsed from pain and exhaustion.

It was then that I thought I would meet my doom in this wood. But then, I saw a woman, cloaked in white, approach it seemed that she was an angel. It was then, that I lost consciousness.

Third-person POV.

In the present day.

"And that's what I thought when I became a slayer of the undead." said Artix, with a sad frown on his face.

"Why did you never tell me this."

"I don't know. Maybe I didn't trust you enough the first time I told you the story; maybe I was afraid that by telling someone, that time I was in Doomwood would haunt my dreams once again; or maybe-"

"You can tell me anything, just as long as you want to."

"I know." Artix then began to sob. She wrapped her arms around him.

"Why did you tell me, of all people."

"Who better to know my fear, than The Heroine of Lore: Sol."