Bria the Corrupted

It was the centennial celebration of the Wall’s construction in the Kingdom of Seren. From the lowliest commoner to the highest royal, citizens gathered in the squares, standing arm in arm beneath cascades of flower petals that danced on the wind. Musicians filled the air with songs of remembrance. Melodies woven from the momentous day a hundred years ago, when the Hero of Seren gave her life to birth the Wall’s power.

Her sacrifice became legend. Her life force, bound in a gem of shimmering light, was set at the Wall’s peak. There it pulsed and thrummed, its energy a sentinel keeping not only the parasites outside the kingdom’s borders, but out of the minds of its people.

For a hundred years, Seren knew peace. A hundred years since the last parasite had been cast out and sent slithering back to whatever hell had spawned it. A hundred years since one of them had hollowed out a human mind, wearing a person’s body like a mask, and discarding it like rotted cloth when it was spent. A hundred years of safety. Of celebration. Of forgetting.

But the day Bria the Corrupted earned her name, everything changed.

The parasites had never truly gone. They still hovered beyond the borders. Luminescent, pulsing, drifting aimlessly like motes of cursed light. Thousands of them, bumping harmlessly against the Wall, recoiling, and trying again. Over and over. In that long solitude, they evolved. They learned to reach through the Wall not with their bodies, but with their minds. With whispers.

Bria first heard the them when she was a child but thought nothing more of them then her own childish fantasies.

Help us. One would whisper

Set us loose. Another would try to command.

But they grew louder with each passing year, pressing deeper into her thoughts, weaving into her dreams. The voices spoke not only of escape but of violence. They painted vivid images. Parasites crawling into the mouths of her friends, sliding behind their eyes, bending her family’s bodies into grotesque puppets. Her parents. Her little brother. They told her they would do it slowly. Purposefully. Just to make her watch.

“Mama! Papa! Please listen to me. My mind is no longer my own.” Bria’s voice trembled, but she forced the words out anyway. She told them everything. The whispers that slithered into her thoughts, the visions of hollowed eyes and puppet strings, the cold certainty that something inside her was unraveling. She spoke of the things she had seen in her dreams and the horrors she feared were no longer dreams at all.

But her mother only pulled Cass closer, shielding him as though Bria were already lost. “Honey, please,” her mother whispered, her eyes glassy with worry, her tone sharp with desperation. “You’re turning our family into outcasts.” She spoke of the healer’s verdict. Of how the rumors had already begun to spread. Mad fever, they called it. “Bria, you must stop,” her mother begged. “Before it’s too late.”

And so the days cycled on. Pleading and denial. Fear and silence. Until Bria learned the bitter lesson of solitude. She decided the only thing left to do was to swallow the terror down, press her back against the door of her mind, and fight off the whispers herself. Alone. Except for Cass.

Her little brother would creep into her room in the quiet hours of the night, after the household had fallen into uneasy sleep. His feet barely made a sound across the cold stone floor. “Do you really hear them?” he asked one night, his voice barely more than breath. Bria’s throat tightened, but she nodded. Cass reached for her hand, small fingers curling around hers. “I believe you,” he whispered. His smile was fragile. One part bravery, one part fear. But it was real. That was the only time she didn’t feel entirely alone.

It was that little bit of strength from Cass that helped her fight off the thoughts. But then came the night of the centennial celebration. The night the Hero of Seren’s gem vanished. The rejoicing had turned to panic. The parasites breached the Wall, seeping through cracks like ghostly mist. There was no defense against them now. No sanctuary. Only running and praying they would choose another host before they found you.

For those who were taken, death was not the mercy it once had been. Their bodies remained. Their eyes glowed. And the parasites wore their skins.

The unpossessed turned their eyes on Bria. The girl who had spoken of the whispers, the girl who had warned of this. They demanded the gem’s return. They called her coward, betrayer, parasite. Corrupted.

But Bria had not stolen the gem. Though, in her heart, she sometimes wished she had. Because the parasites came for her family first, passing by others as if to punish her for inaction. Her parents fell, claimed by the shimmering infestation. She and Cass managed to escape but were separated by the chaos. Bria would never know if she had survived by chance or if the parasites allowed it. Allowed her to live. So she could watch. So she could remember the promise they had made.

That was three years ago. And the kingdom of Seren still waits for the Hero’s gem to be found.

Bria moved along the rooftops of her village, cloaked in shadow, her feet barely whispering against the shingles. She kept to the highest points, where no eye, human or otherwise, could catch her silhouette against the darkened sky. Below, the streets of Seren looked almost normal from this height. Merchants paced their stalls. Children played in alleyways. Neighbors greeted each other with polite nods and soft conversation. But once you descended, once you looked into their eyes, the illusion shattered. The glow betrayed them. These were not people anymore. They were puppets. Hosts wearing human faces.

Some walked aimlessly, their bodies hollow and used up, swaying like reeds in the wind. Others prowled with purpose, searching for new minds, stronger vessels. And above it all, the parasites drifted like pale lanterns. Luminescent specters winding through alleys and doorways, slipping through walls to find those still in hiding.

Bria didn’t know why she came here so often. This part of the kingdom held no clues. No leads to the gem’s whereabouts. She told herself it was strategy, that observing the infested might one day reveal a pattern. But deep down, she knew the truth. She came to punish herself. She came to remember why she still fought. And, perhaps worst of all, she came because she needed to see them.

Her parents wandered the streets like all the others, their bodies intact but no longer their own. The parasites wore their skins now, hollowing them out bit by bit, keeping them alive just enough to remind Bria of her failure. They had not chosen her parents at random. No, the parasites were cleverer than that. This was the continued punishment for not taking the gem herself when she had the chance.

If someone was going to steal it, why shouldn’t it have been me?

That question echoed in her mind, again and again, a poison she could not purge. She had tried to bury it, but it always returned. In quiet moments. In the hush of midnight. In the places between footsteps. And worse than the guilt for her parents was the ache of not knowing what had become of Cass. Was he still out there somewhere? Had he become one of them?

Bria clenched her jaw, forcing the thoughts down. There was no room for that kind of weakness anymore. If she couldn’t forgive herself for what had befallen her family. If she couldn’t live with the possibility that Cass was gone. Then she would make things right another way. She would find the Hero’s gem. And this time, she would not hesitate.

Bria still lived on the fringes, even among the unpossessed. Her name was a curse in whispered tones, and her shadow was enough to clear a room. So she learned to listen from the margins. Information came in fragments. Nuggets of rumor and half-truth, gathered from pressed ears and stolen moments in alleyways. She sifted through gossip like a scavenger picking through bone piles, always searching for something useful.

Her worked had led her to this most recent lead. It had drifted to her on a breath of wind, overheard between two merchants who thought no one was listening. They spoke of a gathering. A clandestine meeting of hosts held in a manor northeast of the village. That, in itself, was not unusual. The parasites often gathered their puppets together, hollow eyes gleaming in unison, performing rituals Bria did not dare to imagine. But this meeting was different. It was said that the hosts would be joined by one who was not possessed. One who still bore their own mind. Their own will.

If it was true, this was the best lead Bria had uncovered in years. She tried to temper her hope, but suspicion gnawed at her. Who would choose to stand among the parasites of their own accord? Perhaps it was the head priest, she thought, the one whose sermons made her skin crawl, whose eyes lingered too long on shadows. Or perhaps a lesser king from beyond Seren’s borders, bartering his soul for power. But most likely, Bria feared, it was neither of these. Most likely, it was someone ordinary. A commoner with nothing left to lose, and everything to gain from stealing the one sacred thing Seren had left on display for a century too long.

If the rumors were true, Bria would find out. And if they weren’t, the shadows always had more secrets to give. She wouldn’t give up.

Bria scaled the outer wall of the manor, her fingers finding purchase in cracks worn by time and neglect. She moved like shadow, silent and sure, until she reached a high window just beneath the eaves. There, she pressed her back against cold stone, hidden by darkness. Close enough to hear. Far enough to run if it came to that.

The rumor was true. Below her, gathered around a long oak table, the hosts convened. Their hollow eyes flickered like dying stars beneath the candle-lit chandelier. A fire roared in the hearth, casting shifting silhouettes along the walls. The parasites wore their stolen skins well, conversing and feasting as though they were still human.

Bria swallowed the lump in her throat and dared a glance around the edge of the window just enough to see. Her breath caught.

At the head of the table, dressed in fine robes, was Cass. He laughed with them. Drank with them. His eyes, normal and untouched, shone beneath dark curls, and his mouth curved into easy smiles as if nothing in the world had ever gone wrong. Bria’s mind spun. Had Cass stolen the gem to silence the whispers in her mind? Had she driven him to this. To the company of parasites, to ease her suffering? Why was he here, among these hollowed hosts, living, feasting, thriving? Her heart twisted, the weight of it pressing hard against her ribs. Because even in her wildest fears, she had not imagined this.

Bria waited until the final breath of night, long after the parasites had drifted away. Some slipping into the walls, others vanishing into the mist beyond the manor’s grounds. All that remained was Cass, alone by the hearth. He sat motionless, staring into the fire’s dying embers. His silhouette flickered against the walls, shifting with the flames.

Bria slipped from the shadows, her steps silent, until she stood just feet behind him. Her heart pounded, her throat tight. “Cass,” she whispered. The word was delicate, barely carried on air. She was afraid that if she spoke too loud, the world might shatter around her.

Her brother turned at the sound, eyes wide with astonishment. But it was Bria who truly couldn’t believe what she saw. Yes, it was Cass. Her little brother. His features were still his own. His eyes held no parasite’s glow. But so much had changed. Up close, she saw it. The bags beneath his eyes, the hollow shadows carved into his face. His hair had begun to thin at the edges, his skin pale beneath the firelight. He was much too young for such weariness. Much too young for this life.

He looked untouched by parasites, yet no better than if he’d been consumed by one. “Bria?” His voice cracked, barely more than a breath. Tears swelled at the corners of his eyes. “They told me you were dead. They said one of them ha—”

“Why?” Bria cut him off, her voice sharper than she intended. She couldn’t bear to hear another word until she knew the truth. “Why steal the gem, Cass?”

He didn’t bother to deny it. His shoulders sagged beneath invisible weight. “They told me they would leave you alone,” he whispered. “They showed me things, Bria. Visions of Mama and Papa. They promised me all I had to do was take the stone.”

Bria’s breath left her in a rush. Of course Of course he had believed the whispers. Because they hadn’t only been in her mind. They had been in his too. The memory of his childhood bravery wasn’t just kindness; it had been a plea. His belief in her had been his own cry for help. And she hadn’t seen it. She hadn’t seen him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice trembled, barely holding together. “Why didn’t you tell me you could hear them?”

“I was afraid…” His tears fell freely now, cutting pale lines down his cheeks. “No one listened to you. They called you mad. They hated us for it. If I came forward too?” His hands shook. “Two of us with the whispers? Who knows what they would’ve done to our family?”

Bria closed the space between them and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him tight. The world fell away. Her voice broke as she whispered into his shoulder, “Why didn’t you put it back? Once you saw what was happening to Seren… Why do you feast with them?”

To her amazement, he reached into his pocket. His trembling hand pulled forth the gem. But it wasn’t what it had been. The once-shimmering stone was dull now, cold and lifeless. A hollow remnant of the Hero’s sacrifice. “It died,” Cass said softly. He held it closer to the fire, letting the embers illuminate the cracks along its surface. “It died the moment I pulled it from the wall. I thought—” His voice faltered. “I thought if I stayed close to them, if I listened, maybe they’d slip up. Maybe I’d find out how to fix it. But they just… laugh.”

His fingers clenched around the dead gem, as if afraid that letting go would mean losing the last piece of hope he carried. Bria’s heart broke. But beneath her sorrow, something stirred. A pull beneath her skin, beneath her bones. A tether to the stone. There was an understanding buried in the gem’s dullness, one Cass could not see. Fear had blinded him, tethered him to half-measures and bargains. But Bria had always known what the gem truly required. A sacrifice. One given freely. With no expectation of return. With no hesitation.

She reached up, her hands gentle, and took the gem from Cass’s trembling grasp. Her fingers closed around it, cradling it as if it were something fragile. Tears blurred her vision as she looked at him. Her little brother, so small beneath the weight of the world. “I love you, Cass,” she whispered, pulling him into one final embrace. Her voice broke with the truth of it. “You did good.”

“Wait Bria, where are you—?”

“Don’t worry,” she whispered against his hair. “I’ll be right back.” It was a lie. But it was a kind one.

She slipped from the manor into the night, her feet sure and steady on the rooftops. She had done this for three years. Lived between shadows, danced across shingles, learned the ways of quiet places where the infected could not reach. It made getting to the wall that much easier.

She took the long path past her village. Past the streets where hollow-eyed puppets still drifted. And there, just for a moment, she saw her parents. Standing together, staring at nothing. Their hands clasped, as if some part of them still remembered love. Bria let herself look at them. Just once more. Then she pressed forward, toward the Wall.

The pull of the gem grew stronger with every step. It thrummed against her ribs, called to her blood, sang to the core of who she was. At the top of the Wall, she laughed, a quiet sound, soft and free. Because now she understood how easy it was. How simple the right thing could be.

She pressed the gem to her chest and gave herself to it completely. Not just her life, but her love. Her hope. Her sorrow. Her guilt. Her will. For Cass. For her parents. For the Kingdom of Seren. The stone drank her in, and in return, it woke. A familiar glow bloomed from the gem, radiating outward, enveloping Seren in warmth and light. Energy spilled from her into the stone, and from the stone into the world.

Across the kingdom, hosts arched their backs, the parasites forced out of their vessels with cries no louder than whispers. One by one, they were expelled. Glowing forms dragged screaming beyond the walls, into the mist where they belonged. And Bria felt her life not ending, but becoming. Becoming something greater.

Her body faded, but her spirit remained woven into the Wall, into the light, into the beating heart of Seren. They would still call her Bria the Corrupted. But she knew the truth. She was Bria the Protector now. And she would always be watching.