The purple wind was so strong it felt like it was peeling the skin off Xin’s face. Every step toward the woman with the porcelain skin felt like walking through deep mud. Behind him, he could hear Mei screaming his name, but her voice sounded like it was miles away.
The woman—the Architect’s Daughter—didn't move. She just watched him with those hollow, purple eyes. Around her, the "zombies" were being sucked into the vortex, disappearing into nothingness with silent mouths.
"You’re fighting for a grave, little spark," she said. Her voice was cold, like ice cubes hitting a glass. "This city is already dead. Why do you hold on?"
Xin didn't answer. He couldn't. His throat felt like it was full of sand. He looked at his hands. They were shaking. He was terrified. He wasn't a soldier; he
