The dirt was unmarked, looking no different than every other patch of earth in the sprawling field. It had taken Salem a year to find, various interrogations of locals and many kilometres of dirt shovelled by now-departed farmers. It had all been worth it though.

She was buried here.

Her apprentice.

The only other person in that field was a man. A pale man. A man whose ribs could be easily seen and his skin stretched over them, his cheeks sunk in and his arms skinny.

"Dig."

And he did.

He limped, fell and struggled for an hour. By the end, his arms were shaking and his legs would no longer hold his feet. His head hit the floor and tilted to the side, he was too out of breath to scream. Next to him, covered in dirt and swarming with maggots was a face.

With a snap of Salem's fingers, the man was dead, his mouth agape in horror as his spirit departed his body.

"A long time it has been, I have need of you again."

Two passing travellers would say that the lights were a dark purple that burst far into the sky and then plummeted back down. A merchant would say he saw small green wisps all across the field. Finally, at daybreak, a leatherworker would say he heard a piercing scream, as loud as a mother cow hearing her children be led to slaughter.

These were all just tales told by travellers in whatever alehouse they found themselves in on their journey, hardly taken as fact by any rational mind.

To the few that heard all three accounts, one thing became clear. Something bad had happened that night, something unholy.

Something had come back.

Atlas academy was, first and foremost, a military establishment. So you were expected to get up at exactly six in the morning, brush your teeth and dress then report for classes. Considering Y/n was a, say, special case, he was exempted from classes for Monday and Tuesday, instead reporting to General Ironwood.

He now stood with his back straight and hands behind his back, waiting for the general to give his orders.

"Nice posture, you've adopted the military well."

"Thank you, sir."

"Onto business, an outpost in the upper mountains hasn't made contact in a week. Any storms that could have prevented communications have passed. Investigate the base and report back to me with your findings." He said, tone grave and his face a mask of cool professionalism

Y/n nodded.

"Consider it done, sir."

He stroked a hand through his hair as he walked away, trying to undo the knots that had formed in his blonde mane. Now he stood outside his dorm room, usually a four-person accommodation but now only shared between him and Ruby.

With a smile he opened the door to see Ruby still asleep on their bed, pyjamas crumbled from her rolling around while sleeping.

Y/n grabbed a pillow off the floor and threw it at her, startling the rose awake.

"That's assault you know," Ruby said, slurring her words as the sleep drained out of her.

"It's a pillow."

"It's a dangerous weapon."

Leaning over the side of the bed, Y/n kissed Ruby on the cheek, a smile breaking out on her face.

"Fine, I forgive you." She giggled.

"In other news, Ironwood wants me to check on one of the mountain outposts." He sighed.

"Oh, an inspector? Well how about you inspect my-"

"I have to go now, Ruby, generals orders." He said, scratching Rubys hair as she still lay in bed.

"Fine, but don't, you know, die." She said, her tone now fully awake.

"Hold on, let me just check my schedule, nope, it appears dying isn't on here." Y/n joked as he walked to the door.

"Seeya babe."

"Bye, Rubes," Y/n said, shutting the door behind him, a door which ruby quickly threw a pillow into.

It took Y/n about halfway up the mountain to realise he should've brought a jacket, the snowstorm that now assailed him had arctic intensity. Shivering with every step, Y/n finally had the outpost in sight, it had only taken him a few hours to scale the sheer cliffs with a little help from his semblance where it would have taken anyone else at least a few days.

Finally, the outpost came into view, a communications centre about the size of a house with an attached cabin to the side. No lights were on.

With a final effort, Y/n teleported to the door of the outpost, puffing and the use of his Semblance. Taking one of his hands off his knees he banged his fist against the door.

No response.

He put his hand on the half-frozen touchpad that stood beside the door and waited as it slowly opened. Laying one hand on the holster by his side, he crept into the building.

All was quiet, not a light in sight, all Y/n noticed was his warm breath fighting the cold as it rose to his brow. Usually, these relays had a dozen staff that was split in two, six staff working for twelve hours.

But, even at this time of night, when there should've at least been someone there was nothing. In fact, all the paperwork was scattered across the floor and the Atlas branded military cup of coffee was sitting by a workstation, its contents were frozen solid.

Stepping through the sanitised metal corridors, all Y/n could hear was his breath, there were no luminescent wires that were the aesthetic for Atlas bases, nor were there the soft and gentle beeping of tech that ran the weather and filtration systems of the facility.

All was quiet.

Y/n slowly approached one of the cabins of the staff, its door covered in a substance he couldn't recognise. Cautiously, he pressed the touchpad on the wall to the right, his hand gripped tightly on his holster as the door squeaked open, ice covering some of the hinges. Stepping inside, Y/n saw that the desk to the right was a mess. Papers scattered across the floor and documents soaked in what he assumed was coffee, judging from the knocked over mug. The bed seemed up to scratch for what Y/n had learned was Atlas military code, its sheets orderly and pillows stainless. The only other thing of note was the swivel chair in the corner of the room, meaning that whoever was here had to have left in a rush.

Walking deeper into the room, Y/n saw a small stain of blood on the backrest of the chair, indicative of a brutal struggle. Someone had come from behind and attacked this person while they worked.

Y/n sighed, there was only one bed in the room, meaning that these quarters belonged to one person. Moving the chair back to the desk and sitting down, Y/n noticed that the door was direct to the right of his vision, meaning that whoever sat would easily be able to see who came through the door.

"They knew who it was" Y/n muttered to himself, wondering how no one else in the facility had reported this or at least tried to escape.

A surprise attack from behind. An attack by someone who they knew. An attack that led to the entire shutdown of the facility, meaning further casualties were likely.

An attack that-

Y/n stopped.

Boom Boom Boom

Someone was coming from behind him, down the same corridor he had walked through.

Boom Boom Boom

It was slow, the footsteps heavy.

Boom Boom Boom

Nearly like a-

Boom Boom Boom

It sounded like-

Boom Boom Boom

"A zombie" Y/n muttered, fear and panic equal parts in his tone.

He found his hand over the holster had started shaking, fingers spasming in different directions, he had to use his other hand to stop the panic, grabbing hold of his clammy and sweating fingers.

The steps were getting closer.

Boom Boom Boom

Another pair of footsteps, coming from the other direction, from deeper inside the facility.

Boom Boom Boom

A third pair.

Y/n's breath seemed stuck in his throat, he couldn't shout in fear as he had no air to do so, all that came out was a desperate wheeze.

Boom Boom Boom

They were right outside, he needed to move, he needed to fight.

Boom Boom Boom

He heard the door slowly creaking open, his back to the entrance as both his hands now shook and his teeth chattered together, sounding like gunfire in the coldness of the outpost.

He had to do something.

Something.

Something.

SOMETHING.

The infected stumbled into the room, three of them converging in the middle of the wrecked quarters. There was no one in there, the place was empty.

It was cold, very cold, there was no light, no sound-

Laughter.

There was laughter in the room, coming from the hallway and resounding from deep in the facility.

A small puff of air escaped its lips, rising up to its brow, the facility had laughter in its depths and if you looked deep enough, a smile as well, a smile of rotten teeth and broken lip, but a smile nonetheless.

"What fun we will have."

"What fun."