Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

The storm struck.

Crown-shards ignited midair, spiraling into a cyclone of white fire. The vessels writhed, their faceless forms stretching, tether-threads yanking taut as if the storm itself sought to drag them back into Elena's chest. Every ember wailed—not as voices, but as jagged currents of sound that pierced bone and marrow alike.

Mira shielded her face with her arm, shards orbiting furiously to carve a hollow of stillness around them. Even so, the fire scorched her skin raw, blistering where her defenses faltered. Through the blaze, she saw Elena at the storm's core.

Elena stood rigid, body splitting further at every pulse. Light poured from the cracks, painting her veins in molten gold. Her hair whipped upward in the cyclone, her silhouette both human and unbearable flame. She clenched her fists as if crushing her own bones.

"I can't—" she gasped, her voice carried in echoes, "—I can't hold them apart!"

Mira staggered closer, each step burning her soles, her lungs searing with fire-scorched air. "Then don't hold. Unmake."

Elena's eyes snapped to her, blazing with fractured light. "Unmaking means—me, too."

Mira's shards rattled in her fury, her breath catching as the vessels dragged themselves forward through the storm. Their flames bent violently, as though trying to climb back into Elena. Some had already begun dissolving into streaks of molten glass, their hollows splitting like collapsing husks. They were dying—and taking Elena with them.

Mira's voice broke, but she forced the words through the storm.

"Then let me burn with you. But not like this. Not as their puppet."

Her shards tore upward, embedding themselves into the cyclone. The fragments of the crown shrieked as steel and flame collided, sparks cascading like meteors. For the first time, the storm faltered, its pull hesitating.

Elena felt it—an opening. Her ember surged, wild and desperate. She spread her arms wide, and the fissures across her chest burst outward, spilling her core into the air like a thousand burning wings.

The vessels convulsed, dragged screaming toward her. Their flames tethered to hers, unwilling to let go. One by one they were pulled into the blaze, their hollow bodies collapsing into streams of fire that funneled into Elena's core. Each tether seared her from the inside, her scream tearing through the cyclone.

Mira rushed to her side, grasping her hand though it burned. "Don't contain them—scatter them! Break the fire apart!"

Elena's head jerked back, her ember swelling until it drowned the storm. She closed her eyes, whispering a single word between gasps:

"Unmake."

The plain shattered.

The vessels erupted into ash and sparks, their embers torn into fragments no larger than dust motes. The cyclone of crown-shards splintered into smoke. The sound of a thousand wails collapsed into silence.

When the light faded, Elena collapsed into Mira's arms. Her body still glowed faintly, fissures smoking, but she was whole. For now.

The plain was empty—no vessels, no crown. Only drifting ash, glowing faintly before fading into the colorless sky.

Mira clutched her tight, shaking. "You did it. They're gone."

Elena stirred, her voice hoarse, trembling:

"No… not gone. Scattered. And every ember still remembers me."

Above them, the ash spiraled, faintly glowing, like a sky of dying stars.

And the plain waited, silent, as though holding its breath.