The horseman smiles.
It’s that grin that cuts through my rising fear.
Stop him.
My heart feels like it’s in my throat as I reach for my dagger. I cut my leg as I withdraw it from my boot, but the pain barely registers over the ringing in my ears.
Stop him before it’s too late.
I stride forward, closing in on Famine. His eyes flick up to me, but his mind is clearly elsewhere.
Stop him. Now.
I step right up to the horseman, and I slam my knife down on Famine’s prone hand with as much force as I can muster. It cuts through flesh and muscle, the blade pinning the horseman to his chair.
Immediately, the earth stops shaking and the fissures halt.
Famine sucks in a sharp breath as I stagger away. He shifts his attention to the wound.
I can hear nothing aside from my own ragged breathing as I wait for him to react.
After several long seconds, the Reaper’s eyes lift, meeting mine. I expect to see anger in them; instead, I see betrayal.
“That was a mistake,” he says he says softly.
Beneath me the floor cracks open once more, and a sharp, vined thing rises from the depths. I only have time to register that at least his ire is now focused on me before the plant wraps itself around me, squeezing and squeezing.
Desperately, I try to rip free from the plant, but the movement only seems to make it tighten its hold. Thorns bloom along the vines, poking me in a dozen different places.
At the sight, someone shrieks, and then it sounds like everyone is shouting. People begin to stampede once more, moving as fast as they can for the exits.
The Reaper lays his scythe across his lap, then reaches for the dagger he’s been impaled with. Calmly, Famine pulls the blade out from his hand, shooting me a considering look as he tosses it aside.
“No one’s going anywhere,” he says casually. Again, his voice seems to carry over the rising mayhem.
Thick, brambly shadows rise beyond the windows, growing and growing like looming specters. Someone in their desperate attempt to escape shatters one of the windows in front of these shadows, and it’s only then that I realize that what I’m seeing outside are bushes—bushes that have grown so dense and tall that they effectively block off the exits.
Outside, the sky flickers, backlighting these plants. An instant later, thunder booms overhead.
Famine stands, grabbing his scythe and spinning it in his hand like he’s getting familiar with its weight. His bronze armor flickers and shines under the candlelight as he moves.
“Come now,” he says to the panicking room. “The party is only just getting started.”
The earth trembles again, and the floor all but crumbles apart. Dozens and dozens of plants rise from the depths, ensnaring person after person, until the entire ballroom seems to be a thrashing jungle of sorts. The screams are almost deafening as people struggle fruitlessly to get out.
I strain against my own plant that binds me tight, the thorns digging into my skin.
“Stop!” I beg the horseman.
Famine glances over at me, an angry glint in his eyes. “You I’ll deal with later.”
He faces the crowd of trapped guests, his attention eliciting another round of petrified screams. Everything about Famine in this moment is menacing—his body, his weapon, his expression.
Outside, lightening continues to flash and thunder continues to boom. Within seconds rain begins pattering on the corrugated iron roof, getting louder by the second.
Slowly the horseman stalks forward, making his way towards a large man with heavy jowls who’s bound up in a squat tree. I see the man struggle to get away, but it’s useless.
The horseman grasps the man’s face, his fingers digging into his cheeks. “Do you want me to stop?” the Reaper asks. I can barely hear him over the pounding rain and the shouts and sobs echoing through the room.
The man nods vigorously.
Famine studies him. “Hmmm … And what would you be willing to do to make me stop?” he asks.
The man squirms under his gaze. “I-I’ll do anything.”
“Will you now?” Famine says. The Reaper glances over at me and arches a brow, like this is some inside joke.
“Are you sure about that?” the Reaper presses, his attention returning to his victim.
The man is visibly sweating, but he manages a nod.
“Alright,” Famine says. “I’ll stop.”
The man looks relieved.
“But.”
I tense. Here it is, the barbed offer I’ve come to expect from the horseman.
“If you want me to save all these people,” Famine says. “I need something from you.”
Famine might be a divine creature, but right now, he sounds like the devil of old.
“Anything,” his captive says again.
“Your life for theirs,” the Reaper says.
My mouth goes dry. The horseman likes doing this—testing the limits of our humanity, all so that he can prove some point about how shitty humans really are.
The man pauses. There’s terror in his eyes. His gaze sweeps over the other people who are likewise caught in the grip of Famine’s lethal plants.
Before the man can respond, the tree that holds him fast now releases him. He stumbles forward, just barely managing to catch himself before he falls.
“Well?” the Reaper says. “On your knees then.” As he speaks, Famine spins his scythe again, the blade glinting in the candlelight.
The man is visibly shaking, his eyes locked on the Reaper’s blade. He doesn’t move to his knees.
Famine takes a step towards him, and the man bolts, heading for the guarded doorway.
“As I thought.”
In six quick strides, the horseman is upon him. The Reaper swings that mighty scythe of his, and in one sweeping stroke he beheads the man.
The room erupts in a fresh wave of screams, these ones louder and more desperate than ever.
My nausea rises as the man’s head hits the ground with a wet thud, and I nearly sick myself at the sight of his mouth opening and closing in shock.
There’s blood everywhere, and the room is filled with the piercing cries of all the other trapped humans.
“You were all given a chance at redemption,” Famine announces, his gaze sweeping over them, “but your will is weak.”
The Reaper moves away from the body, towards another person, this one a woman.
She opens her mouth. “No—”
Her plea is cut short. Famine swings his scythe, separating the woman’s head from her shoulders. Blood sprays as the body collapses into the plant holding her.
My screams now join the others.
The horseman has gotten a taste for death.
Famine moves onto the next person and then the next and the next, that terrible weapon cutting each one down. Mercilessly he executes the trapped townspeople until the floor shines with blood. Those he doesn’t get to are slowly squeezed tighter and tighter by the trees and shrubs until I hear the snap of bones.
And now the cries aren’t just terrified, they’re agonized.
At some point my voice grows hoarse from screaming, and I have to close my eyes against the carnage. It’s all so excessively cruel.
The plant caging me in has grown uncomfortably tight, but unlike some of the other people in the room, it hasn’t broken any bones or crushed my lungs.
It seems like an eternity passes before the warehouse grows silent. The only noise left is the harsh patter of rain and my sobs. Even then, I keep my eyes closed.