The Akashic Mandate

Elijah twisted his wrists, pulling his heavy iron sword with all his strength. With a loud, wet crunch, the thick blade finally broke free from the ribcage of the monster in front of him. Black, oily blood sprayed across Elijah’s face. He did not blink. He just wiped it away with the back of his dirty leather glove.

The monster fell backward into the mud, but it did not die. It could not die. Nothing in this world could die anymore.

Elijah looked down at the creature. Its skin was pale and rotting. Its eyes were completely white, rolled back into its head. Its jaw hung open, snapping at the empty air. This was a Hollow. It was a human whose soul was trapped in a dead body.

But Elijah knew this Hollow. He knew the man trapped inside.

"I am sorry, Arthur," Elijah whispered. His voice was rough, like two stones grinding together.

Before the sickness came, Arthur had been Elijah’s neighbor. He was a kind, older man who used to bake bread and share it with everyone on their street. Now, Arthur was just another breathing corpse. The Ever-Blight had taken his mind, leaving only a hungry, angry shell behind.

Arthur’s broken arms reached up from the mud. Even with a giant hole in his chest, the Hollow tried to grab Elijah’s legs. It wanted to bite. It wanted to spread the sickness.

Elijah stepped back. He reached to the thick belt around his waist and pulled out a long, heavy iron spike. He also grabbed a small, heavy hammer.

"Rest now," Elijah said.

He stepped forward, placed the sharp end of the iron spike against Arthur’s shoulder, and swung the hammer down. Clang. The iron drove through flesh and bone, pinning the Hollow’s right shoulder deep into the hard earth. Arthur thrashed and screamed, a terrible sound that echoed over the ruined street. Elijah pulled out a second spike. He pinned Arthur’s left leg to the ground.

Now, Arthur could not get up. He would lie there forever, breathing, suffering, unable to die. This was the only way to win a fight in a world without death. You could not kill your enemies. You could only nail them to the floor.

A loud horn blew from behind Elijah.

"They are breaking through the left wall!" a voice yelled.

Elijah turned around. He stood in front of a giant wall made of old cars, broken concrete, and sharp metal wire. This was Haven’s Drop, a small camp where fifty uninfected humans tried to survive. Elijah was one of their best fighters.

Down the street, a massive crowd of Hollows was running toward the wall. There were hundreds of them. They moved with unnatural speed, their broken limbs snapping and popping with every step. They climbed over each other, acting like wild animals.

"Hold the line!" Marcus, the captain of the guards, shouted from the top of the wall. "Do not let them touch you! One bite, one scratch, and the Blight takes you!"

Elijah took a deep breath. The air tasted like rust and smoke. He gripped his iron sword with both hands and ran toward the weakest part of the wall.

Three Hollows broke through a gap in the fence. The first one was a young woman wearing a torn yellow dress. She leaped at Elijah, her mouth wide open, showing broken, bloody teeth.

Elijah did not hesitate. He swung his sword low, cutting off the woman's legs at the knees. She crashed to the ground, but she immediately started dragging her upper body toward him using her hands. Elijah kicked her in the face, pushing her back, and turned to the second Hollow.

This one was a massive man, twice Elijah’s size. The giant Hollow swung a heavy fist, hitting Elijah in the chest. The punch was so hard it threw Elijah backward. He hit a rusty car and fell to the dirt, gasping for breath. His ribs ached.

The giant Hollow rushed forward, falling to its knees to bite Elijah’s neck. Elijah rolled to the side. The Hollow’s teeth slammed into the dirt. Elijah quickly got to his feet. He grabbed an iron spike from his belt, held it like a dagger, and drove it straight through the giant’s hand, pinning it to the tire of the car.

"Bring the heavy hammers!" Elijah shouted to the guards behind him.

Two men ran forward with sledgehammers. They hit the giant Hollow in the knees, breaking the joints so it could not stand. Then they quickly pounded more iron spikes through its arms and legs, nailing it to the street.

The battle was total chaos. The loud, ugly noise of screaming Hollows mixed with the shouts of terrified humans. Blood painted the broken street black. The smell of rotting meat was so strong it made Elijah’s eyes water.

Elijah fought for what felt like hours. He moved with brutal, careful speed. Cut the legs to drop them. Crush the arms so they cannot grab. Pin the bodies to the ground. He repeated this violent dance over and over. His muscles burned. His breath came in short, painful gasps. Sweat mixed with the gray ash on his face, stinging his eyes.

Finally, the loud horn blew twice.

"They are pulling back!" Marcus yelled. "The sun is going down! They are retreating to the shadows!"

Elijah stopped. He leaned heavily on his sword, using it like a walking stick. He looked down the street. The remaining Hollows were turning away, slowly dragging themselves back into the dark ruins of the city. The sunlight bothered them. It burned their pale skin.

The street in front of Haven’s Drop was a terrible sight. Over fifty Hollows were pinned to the ground. They squirmed like worms on hooks. They hissed and growled, snapping their teeth, trapped forever in their own rotting bodies.

"Good work, Elijah," Marcus said, walking up to him. Marcus looked tired. His armor was covered in dark mud. "We survived another day."