However, before she could reach the creature...
A sharp crack split the air.
Then came the hiss.
And she was reminded yet again of the chaos.
Ayra froze mid-step, fork clenched tight in her trembling hand. Her whole body shook uncontrollably. All she needed was water—maybe even Ethan.
She spun around to look at the stairs leading to the back door.
Empty.
No Ethan. No Ken. No Stella.
Only the creeping dread. Screams tore through the air, mingling with snarls and guttural growls.
Ethan was gone.
And now it was just her.
Only now did she realize how unsteady her legs had become.
"I have to be strong," she whispered. "For my family."
The church was massive. It had held over hundreds of guest, but now, their numbers had dwindled. With so few creatures, anyone might think humans had the upper hand.
They didn't.
Everyone was running. Screaming. Scrambling for shelter. Only a handful fought to survive.
Ayra shut her eyes, trying to breathe. But even that felt ragged, like her lungs were rebelling. Focus slipped through her fingers like sand.
She opened her eyes—and locked gazes with the creature.
Her breath caught. She nearly stumbled back in horror.
When the chaos erupted and disrupted the wedding, she hadn't dared to look them in the eyes. She hadn't truly grasped what they were.
These weren't the slow, stumbling zombies from horror movies. Those were reanimated corpses—bitten, infected, changed. A virus passed from mouth to flesh.
But these... these were something else.
Humans didn't turn. The dead stayed dead. A single bite, and that was it. If their fangs touched her skin, she'd share the same fate—lifeless on the ground.
Their eyes were hollow. Empty. Like staring into a bottomless tunnel. Their clothes hung in filthy, tattered layers—dark, shredded, reeking of rot. Fangs jutted from their mouths, long and sharp as blades.
They moved faster than any zombie she'd ever seen.
And their growl? A harsh, hissing sound—like a snake ready to strike.
If she wasn't fast enough, they'd reach her in seconds.
And heaven help her—she didn't have a sixth sense to guide her. No combat training. No strength.
Even the fork in her hand felt useless against monsters like these.
The creature moved, jaws wide, revealing razor-sharp fangs. Its gaze—hollow, yet locked on her—never wavered. People rushed past it. Other creatures tore through the chaos. But its focus was only on her.
Ayra stepped back, trembling. Fear crawled up her spine.
Maybe Ethan was right. Maybe they were all beyond saving. Maybe it was foolish to fight monsters she had no hope of defeating.
She stood at the edge of the aisle—right in his path.
He didn't rush.
He walked slowly. Deliberately. Like he was savoring her fear. Like he wanted her paralyzed by it before he struck.
And he was succeeding.
She was terrified.
But her fingers tightened around the kitchen fork. It was all she had. Her only weapon. Her last chance to survive.
Ayra staggered backward, her legs moving without thought. Tears welled in her eyes, slipping down her cheeks.
Was this how she would die?
On her wedding day?
Why was fate so cruel?
What sin had she committed in a past life to deserve this?
The creature closed in. Shoulders hunched, limbs tense—it moved like the others did. Slow at first. Then it would leap. Pounce. Bite.
Hot liquid trickled down her gown.
The dress—short, delicate, now soaked—clung to her skin. It dripped onto her bare feet. Her heels were long lost in the chaos.
Only now did she realize—
It wasn't water.
It was her own urine.
She didn't move back anymore. She couldn't. Her body refused. The fork trembled in her grip, but she didn't even try to lift it.
Okay.
This is where I die.
The creature lunged.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Is this it?
But something slammed into her—again. A body. Shielding her.
She gasped and opened her eyes.
Not the creature.
It was her father.
"Father?" she whispered, voice shaking.
He grunted. His black hair was wild, his suit torn and stained.
"Stay here," he said, low and urgent, scanning the chaos around them. "I'm going to find your mother. Hide under the pew. Don't come out until help arrives."
She wanted to speak, but her body trembled so violently that only her teeth chattered.
He pulled back, urgency in his voice. "Stay under the pew, Arya."
But she shook her head, still clutching the fork. If her father was going to find her mother, then she was going with him.
She wouldn't hide while he faced those monsters alone.
He saw her resistance and sighed. Kneeling beside her, he gently wiped her tears with his thumb.
"If you get the chance to escape," he whispered, voice low now with the creatures nearby, "take it. Don't look back."
Her breath caught. "What about you... and Mother?"
"We'll find a way," he said, steady and soft. "But you need to be safe first."
He urged her again, and this time, she slipped under the pew—but not without a silent vow to stay close.
"Promise you'll come back," she whispered.
"I will," he said, then pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
Ayra wanted to follow him. She wanted to fight.
But her body still trembled. She couldn't even stand.
She needed a moment—a clear one. A second to find her footing. Without that, she'd be useless.
But she had to do something.
She gave her father one last nod. He nodded back, then turned and began to crawl away…
Then—
That sound.
A low, hissing growl.
A thud.
The creature landed—right in front of him.
Before Ayra could scream, think, or even process it, the monster lunged and sank its fangs into her father's neck.
The world around her went silent.
He convulsed for only three seconds.
Then collapsed.
His body turned gray, lifeless—just like all the others.
Ayra couldn't scream. Couldn't move. Her eyes locked on the spot where his body lay, unmoving.