A Necromancer's Journey To Heaven's Gate

The living room was the only spacious part of the house. It had a fireplace flanked by two rocking chairs their parents always used—now their favorite spot after dinner.

A small four-seater wooden dining table was at the right, a stone's throw away from the kitchen door—except the kitchen didn't really have a door.

"Don't tell me you didn't take a shower?"

Ruth pinched her nose and took a step back. Silas raised his arm and sniffed his armpit, only to wince a second later. His gaze slowly lowered to Ruth, and Silas shook it.

"No." He responded dully as ever

Ruth let out an exasperated sigh and quickly replaced the gloomy face with a sweet smile.

"The least you can do is wash your hands—"

Two minutes later, the duo were seated, soup bowls in hand. The soup was a mixture of carrots, cabbages, and a few common veggies, spices, and thin portions of dried meat here and there.

It tasted good, but not as good as Ruth's bean cake—her cooking was something Silas was always looking forward to. He took a few sips and smiled slightly before taking a big bite out of a bean cake.

"Sil…" Ruth called him by his pet name. "Are you okay?"

Silas slowly looked up to meet her gaze with a confused expression. 

"They are making you people work more, and it's wearing you out. I just want you to rest more." She argued.

Ruth's words were met with silence, after which a small smile appeared on Silas' face. He nodded and gave a dull "okay" before he continued eating. 

"You are 18 now, you need to think of getting married. So try to look good a bit, maybe wash up a bit more and wear clean clothes. I'm sure there is someone out there for you." Ruth said after a few minutes of silence.

Her words only attracted a slight frown and then repeated head shakes from Silas.

"No… " Silas finally spoke up with narrowed eyebrows. "I will stay with you forever." 

His words made Ruth blush, but this was not the life she wanted for her brother. She wanted to see him happy with a family of his own—that's what their parents would have wanted.

Ding~Dong!

Deafening bells broke the silence and drew the attention of the duo—they were familiar with the warning bells for raiders. 

But who was it today?

Bandit orcs, dwarves, or renegade humans?

This had become the norm, so they knew how to act. Ruth suppressed her fear and began packing some bean cakes into a small piece of cloth, while Silas ran into his room and emerged with a machete.

"Let's go." He said, and she nodded obediently.

The first mistake a person would make in this situation was to run through the front door and burst into the main road—that was the fastest way of running into bandits, but such a mistake was not uncommon. 

In chaotic situations, many people panic, which leads to mistakes. Silas' autism made him calm and collected even under intense emotions. He could only show his emotions through light frowns or awkward smiles, no matter how intense it felt—this was suffocating for him.

Instead, they jumped out Silas' room window and followed the alleyway. Cloaked under the shadows, they could see the bright amber glow and rose smoke—sounds of clashing metal, cries of the people, and most importantly, inhuman grunts filled the air.

Orcs!

His gaze lowered to Ruth, who was trembling with her hand covering her lips. Silas gently pulled her into a bear hug from behind—it hurt him every time.

A few seconds in, her fidgeting had stopped, and her trembles were light. 

"Thank you," she mumbled under her breath, and Silas shot her a small smile before they continued their journey.

Silas and Ruth stayed low, moving like shadows through the narrow alleyways. The village was burning, and the air was thick with smoke and screams, but Silas remained focused—One mistake, and they would be caught.

A sudden crash came from nearby—a door splintering open. Silas held Ruth back, pressing her into the wall as a hulking dragged a struggling villager into the street. The orc snarled, tossing the man aside before moving deeper into the village.

Silas exhaled slowly, then tapped Ruth's arm twice—keep moving.

They slithered through the back alleys, stepping lightly over loose stones and broken wood. The firelight flickered through the gaps between the houses, casting jagged shadows.

As they reached the corner of a crumbling shed, Silas halted. He felt movement before he saw it—heavy boots crunching over dirt. He pulled Ruth down, pressing them both against the wall.

An orc stood just a few feet away, sniffing the air. Did it sense them?

Silas' grip on his machete tightened, but he stayed still. No sudden movements.

The orc let out a low grunt, then stomped forward, disappearing down another path. Silas only moved when he was sure the creature was gone.

They continued.

At one point, a group of orcs passed so close that Ruth clenched her fists to stop from trembling. Silas placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder but didn't stop moving. Every time an orc was near, he either led them into deeper shadows or changed their route entirely.

Step by step, they made their way to the village's edge.

The wooden fence marking the boundary was just ahead, but they weren't safe yet. An orc stood near it, scanning the area, its axe resting lazily on its shoulder. Blocking their path.

Silas picked up a small stone and flicked it toward a burning house. The sound of it clattering against wood made the orc grunt in curiosity and wander toward the noise.

That was their chance.

They slipped over the fence, landing softly on the other side. No alarms. No shouts. Unseen.

The dark forest loomed ahead, a tangled mess of trees and thick underbrush. It was dangerous, but it was better than staying here.

Without looking back, they vanished into the woods, leaving the burning village behind.