The Shadow Wanderers

Chapter 19

There was peace before he came.

Or, at least, apparently.

Because words like peace were forbidden in a place that was worse than hell, let alone the sensation.

There, under the scorching heat of the boiling lava, stood ten soldiers, whose immortal skins burnt with extremity. Their pores became as prominent as a beehive structure. Their feet, although covered in thick leather boots, seemed to melt in the ferociously high temperature. They were sent here with their complete professional attires that consisted of heavy armor over layers and layers of leather on their bodies, but here it was nothing but the baggage for suicide.

Due to the excruciating atmosphere and temperature, five soldiers each from Vakenes and Liggen were appointed and replaced every three hours, because if they weren't, their mass would melt and turn into smoke within five.

The word was popular among both armies; once a soldier got appointed as a guard at Ionov, they would prefer death over revisiting it.

Some went crazy because of the way the experience haunts them. Some screamed in the middle of the night because of the nightmares. While others left the army in fear of getting appointed there again.

Once a soldier got appointed at Ionov, they got scarred for the rest of their immortal life—the reason why no soldier gets appointed twice.

Screams resonated from the other side of the empty blazing land. The only source of light was the flowing lava. A soldier cursed and shuddered yet again, highly irritated by the itch on her skin. As she scratched her arm in frustration, her nails dug into her red flesh. Fresh sharp scars appeared beneath her nails, cutting into her skin. She grabbed her brown locks and forced them into a messy bun on her head. Having ditched her armor and weapons, she stripped off the layers of clothes on her body until only one remained.

She examined her once beautiful skin, and tears burned in her eyes. Her body was as red as blood, the labyrinthine veins visible, as though she was seeing through a transparent sheet. If she weren't aware of her own anguished breaths, she would've thought herself dead.

"ANYA!"

A terrible scream reached the soldier's ears and she was forced to get alerted even though her head was pounding. She forced herself to keep her eyes open and focused on the voice shouting her name. A small sliver of hope bloomed in her scarred heart, and she started to walk clumsily toward the source of the voice.

All she could see was red, but not the anger. The atmosphere was red, the color of the blazing hot winds. The rocky surface would've appeared black without the little streams of lava flowing around in all directions. But it was also burning red, making it almost indistinguishable between the surface and the liquid fire.

After stumbling and walking for what seemed like years, a figure appeared in the distance among the rocky cliffs. Anya's heart began to pound as loud as her head and she fell to her knees. Her hands fell on the burning ground and she drew them back as soon as she realized it was a bad idea.

The soldier, who had been shouting her name, came stumbling and running towards her, falling on his knees beside her. Anya's face lit up ever so slightly at seeing his disfigured face.

"Damn those Serafiels! Couldn't have chilled down the place," he cursed with the little breath left inside him.

"How much longer...?" Anya breathed out.

"Another one and a half hours to go," Gus said, grabbing her shoulders in reassurance.

The couple sat together on the scorching ground, all hopes evaporating from their existence. Gus had also stripped off of his shirt, revealing his broad torso, on which Anya leaned for the love of her life. The soldier couple had decided to be appointed together for Ionov, as Anya wouldn't let her partner go through the trauma alone. She would be there for him, and he would be there for her.