First Encounter
Chapter 3: First Encounter
The morning sun filtered through the broken windows of the warehouse, casting long shadows on the dusty floor. Harry stirred, the events of the previous day flooding back. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and noticed Daryl already awake, sharpening his knives.
"Daryl," Harry began, "thanks for helping me yesterday. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been there."
Daryl shrugged, not one for sentimentality. "Just doin' what I had to. Can't leave someone stranded out there."
Harry smiled faintly. "Still, thank you."
A silence settled between them, the tension of two worlds colliding palpable in the air. Harry, with his background of magic and prophecies, and Daryl, a rugged survivor of a post-apocalyptic nightmare.
"Listen," Daryl finally said, "we need supplies. Food, water, ammo. You up for a run?"
Harry nodded. "Sure, just... lead the way."
The duo cautiously stepped outside, the eerie silence of the morning punctuated by the distant moans of walkers. Daryl led the way, his eyes scanning for any sign of danger, while Harry followed closely, his wand at the ready.
As they moved through the abandoned streets, Harry's mind raced with questions. How had the world come to this? What had caused the walkers to rise? Was there any hope for humanity?
Their first destination was a nearby pharmacy. Daryl hoped to find some medical supplies, while Harry hoped for any sign of magical artifacts or clues.
Inside, the scene was grim. Shattered glass, overturned shelves, and dried bloodstains painted a haunting picture. Daryl moved methodically, collecting bandages, antibiotics, and other essentials.
Harry, on the other hand, searched for anything out of the ordinary. Among the chaos, he found a small, ornate box tucked behind the counter. It emanated a faint magical aura, a stark contrast to the bleak surroundings.
"Daryl," Harry whispered, showing him the box, "this might be a clue. It feels... magical."
Daryl raised an eyebrow, skeptical but curious. "Magical? Like your wand?"
Harry nodded. "Exactly. I don't know what it is yet, but it might help us understand what's going on."
Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden crash from the back of the store. Daryl immediately raised his crossbow, while Harry gripped his wand. Slowly, they approached the source of the noise.
A lone walker, trapped under a fallen shelf, snarled and reached for them. Daryl took aim and quickly dispatched it with a single bolt. But it wasn't the walker that caught their attention. Next to it was a body, long dead, clutching a torn piece of parchment.
Harry carefully picked it up, his eyes widening as he read the familiar runes and symbols. "This is a spell," he murmured, "a very dark and powerful one."
Daryl glanced at the parchment, the symbols meaningless to him. "What does it do?"
Harry's expression darkened. "I'm not entirely sure, but I think it's connected to the walkers. This might be the key to understanding what happened to the world."
Daryl frowned. "Magic caused this? All this death and destruction?"
Harry sighed, the weight of the revelation heavy on his shoulders. "It's possible. Dark magic has the power to do unimaginable harm."
They shared a somber moment, the gravity of their discovery sinking in. But they couldn't dwell for long. The noise had attracted more walkers, and the pharmacy was no longer safe.
Daryl grabbed the supplies, while Harry carefully stored the magical box and parchment in his bag. They quickly exited the store, narrowly avoiding a growing horde of walkers.
Back on the streets, the two men had a new sense of purpose. If magic was involved in the apocalypse, then Harry had a duty to uncover the truth and find a way to reverse it.
And Daryl, ever the protector, was determined to ensure Harry's safety and the survival of his makeshift family.
Their journey had only just begun, and the road ahead was fraught with danger, mysteries, and the promise of hope.