Niku's Burden

The dust swirled around me, a familiar dance of grit and wind that had been my constant companion for as long as I could remember. My family, the herd of thousands, had moved on, as they always did, leaving behind the ghost of their presence. But I, Eli, the cave dweller, the stray ember, had a knack for finding my way back. The scent of woodsmoke, the distant bleating of their animated livestock, a well-worn track – these were my compass. This time, however, the path led me not to the familiar warmth of our temporary encampment, but to a cacophony of metallic clangs and strained shouts. It was the sound of the Soul-Hunters, a sound that had become a grim lullaby for our people.

I’d heard the whispers, seen the fear in my parents’ eyes when their patrols passed too close. They were the shield, the sword, the grim reaper of the animated world, and their reputation preceded them like a storm front. Yet, here I was, drawn by an invisible thread, a curiosity that gnawed at me like a burrowing insect. And then, through the swirling dust, I saw him.

Niku.