The Lost Prince and The Demon King [BL]

Perry didn't notice anything strange at first. They crossed the bridge, the sun was still shining, and everything around them teemed with the sound of insects and birds.

The graveyard stretched before them, ancient-looking stone markers rising from the earth like crooked teeth. Some stood straight, while others seemed to have given into gravity and time, broken and scattered across the ground. As they walked, Perry noticed Myran getting more and more uneasy. He gripped the reigns so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Despite his speech about facing perils, Myran was still just a kid. Perry opened his mouth to offer some words of reassurance, to tell him everything would be fine, when the light around them began to change.

The sun's warmth gradually diminished as thin tendrils of fog crept across the ground, weaving between the gravestones. Perry watched, transfixed, as the mist thickened, transforming the peaceful scenery into something a lot more ominous. Myran began to tremble slightly and Perry instinctively moved closer to the donkey.

The cacophony of birdsong and insect calls faded into an unnatural silence. Perry glanced around, trying to figure out what was happening. Then came the first sounds: a rustle of movement, followed by low, guttural groans that made the hair on the back of Perry's neck stand on end.

"Please tell me you have some kind of weapon," Perry said, his voice barely above a whisper. His heart began to race as the groans multiplied and grew louder.

Myran shook his head. "I have not earned the right to carry real weapons yet. Only training swords."

"I don't suppose you happen to have one of those lying around?" Perry asked, though he already knew the answer. 

Not that it would make much of a difference. He had no idea what to do with a sword anyway.

"The Crimson Lords took mine when they captured me."

"Right. Of course they did." Perry swallowed hard. "Let's just keep moving. Quickly."

The rustling and groaning intensified, seeming to come from every direction. Perry all but grabbed the reigns of the donkey to make it move faster, but before they could break into a run, he saw it — a figure stumbling toward them through the fog.

Perry froze. The donkey, displaying some small amount of wisdom, went completely still. Through the mist, Perry couldn't make out details, only a vaguely human shapes moving in jerky, unnatural ways.

"Undead," Myran whispered, his voice trembling.

Perry wanted to argue, to say that wasn't possible. But then more figures emerged from the fog. As they moved closer, the things surrounding him became horrifyingly clear. And undeniable. 

Their flesh hung in pieces, showing parts of the bone beneath their rotten skin. Some were missing limbs, others had holes where their stomachs or chests should have been. The smell hit him then—a nauseating mixture of decay and stale earth that made his stomach lurch.

The donkey let out a terrified bray and reared up, throwing Myran from its back. Before Perry could react, the animal bolted, taking their supplies with it. Several of the shambling figures turned to chase it, their movements shifting and becoming more purposeful.

"Are you hurt?" Perry asked, helping Myran to his feet. 

The boy nodded and clutched Perry's pant leg as he stood, trembling violently.

"What... what kind of zombies are these?" Perry asked. 

"Z-zom…?" Myran stuttered. 

"Undead. I mean undead. Are they the classical type? You know, the kind that go down with a good hit to the head?"

Myran nodded jerkily. "Yes. But do you have anything to hit them with?"

"How long is this graveyard?"

"Long enough for us not to survive this."

"We need to work on your optimism, kid," Perry muttered.

Perry scanned their surroundings, his mind racing. "We need to hide and find another way out." He pulled Myran off the road, searching frantically until he found a fallen branch thick enough to serve as a weapon. "Which direction do we need to go?"

Myran pointed and they began moving as quietly as possible through the fog. They'd barely gone twenty steps when an undead lurched out from behind a gravestone. Perry reacted purely on instinct, swinging the branch with all his strength and letting out a surprised yelp.

The impact made a sickening, wet sound as it connected with the creature's skull. To Perry's surprise, the undead crumpled to the ground, unmoving. He stood there, frozen in shock at what he'd just done.

"Perry." Myran's urgent whisper snapped him back to reality as more groans moved closer to them.

They ran, Perry swinging his makeshift weapon without bothering to stop and check if he was actually doing any real damage. Each hit made his arms vibrate with the impact, but adrenaline kept him moving. But the undead seemed to be multiplying with every second, stumbling their way through the fog and toward them. Soon, they were surrounded, the creatures closing in from all sides.

Perry and Myran stood back-to-back, the boy pressing close against him as Perry brandished his branch. The undead moved closer, their ruined faces twisted into horrific expressions that would fuel Perry's nightmares for many, many years.

"Return to your rest!" A loud, commanding voice snapped through the fog like a whip.

Most of the undead hesitated, their movements faltering. But some continued their advance. A tall figure strode through the mist, moving with fluid grace. 

Perry watched in amazement as the newcomer fought the undead. A sword whispered through the air in precise arcs, each movement economical and deadly. Rotting bodies fell with quiet thuds.

"I said, return to your rest!" The person commanded again. This time, the remaining undead retreated, shambling back into the fog until they eventually disappeared.

Everything was quiet for a moment. And then, as if by magic, the sun slowly broke through the clouds. The fog began to dissipate, revealing the graveyard in all its ordinary gloriousness. 

Perry's knees went weak with relief, and only Myran's tight grip on his leg kept him upright.

"Thank you," Perry gasped out. "We would have been done for it you hadn't showed up. Really, thank you." He lowered his makeshift weapon and used it to hold himself upright.

The person turned, and Perry saw acid-green eyes widen in recognition.

"Your Highness?" 

Perry exhaled loudly, feeling a headache building behind his eyes. "Not this again."