carmine skies

Childe’s muscles coiled in tension as his grip tightened on the scale, the cold metal a stark contrast to the burning anxiety coursing through him. The steady approach of footsteps grew louder and sharper, each echo amplifying his sense of impending danger. His gaze locked onto the purple glow ahead, the faint silhouette of a figure emerging from the murky light. His heart raced, uncertainty gnawing at him. He couldn't tell whether this was the creature responsible for the chaos or just another survivor like himself. But he wasn't willing to risk it.

His vision wavered, the edges of the figure blurring. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog creeping into his eyes, but when he reopened them, the figure had vanished without a trace. His pulse quickened his senses on high alert. He scanned the surroundings, his eyes darting over every inch of the dim space. The air felt thick and oppressive, and there was nothing in sight—yet the distant, frantic cries of people echoed eerily from every direction, sending a shiver down his spine.

He turned to Ganyu, urgency in his movements. Without a word, he gestured for her to stand up. She met his gaze, and without hesitation, she rose to her feet, her eyes wide with the same unease that churned in his gut.

His breathing was shallow, his grip tightening on the makeshift weapon he had hastily cobbled together. The jagged metal scale, wrapped with pens and pins, felt crude in his hands, but it was all he had. Every small sound around him seemed to echo like a thunderclap in the tense silence—the distant, bone-chilling screams, the shuffling footsteps, the unsettling groans of the building shifting under some unseen weight.

His eyes flickered to Ganyu, who stood beside him, her wide eyes reflecting the same terror he felt. The soft whimpering breaths she took were the only sounds from her, but she remained still, her hands clenched tightly at her sides, waiting for his next move. Childe could feel her fear, yet she stayed calm—too calm for someone so young and caught in such a nightmare.

"Stay close," Childe whispered urgently, his voice barely a breath against the heavy stillness that surrounded them. "We need to move. Quietly."

Ganyu gave a small nod, her face pale, but she didn’t speak. She trusted him, and that trust was the only thing holding her together in the chaos. Childe motioned for her to follow and took the lead, moving carefully through the shadows. His boots were muffled against the carpeted floors, but every step felt like a thunderous echo, every floorboard creak loud enough to betray their position. The weight of their presence in the building seemed to draw attention, or perhaps it was the proximity of whatever had caused the horrific screams, but Childe’s instincts told him they were being hunted.

They reached a door, its wood slightly cracked. Childe eased it open just enough to slip inside. His heart pounded in his chest as his eyes scanned the room—empty. No movement, no sounds. He motioned for Ganyu to follow. She stepped inside, her soft footsteps barely registering as she moved past him, her eyes darting nervously to the shadows in every corner.

The office they found themselves in was dimly lit, the only light filtering in through half-shut blinds that cast elongated, distorted shadows across the floor. The smell of stale air and dust filled the space, and the faint sound of dripping water echoed somewhere off in the distance, but the silence between them felt like a heavy blanket, suffocating and oppressive. Childe exhaled sharply, closing the door as softly as he could, the lock clicking into place with a faint but solid sound. It was the kind of silence that made every breath feel too loud.

"Here," he breathed, his eyes scanning the room again, ensuring they were alone. The office was sparse—just a desk, a few chairs, and a stack of papers untouched for what looked like years. His eyes lingered on the window, noting the unnerving red tint of the sky outside. The eerie hue made everything look distorted as if the world had been painted over with a brush of blood. He shook his head, trying to push the thought away.

"Let’s just stay here for now," Childe muttered, his voice low and strained. "We can’t risk being out there right now."

He turned to Ganyu, who had made herself as small as possible, sitting in the corner by the desk, her knees drawn to her chest. She looked fragile—too fragile for the nightmare they were both trapped in. Her eyes were wide with fear, and her normally calm demeanor was now lost beneath the weight of uncertainty. Childe’s heart clenched, but he refused to show it. He couldn’t afford to be anything but the strong one now.

"Listen, Ganyu," he began, trying to sound reassuring even though his nerves were fraying at the edges. "I’m going to get us out of here. You just stay close. No matter what happens, don’t make a sound until I say so, okay?"

She nodded, her lips pressed together in a thin line. Her breath came in shallow bursts, and for a moment, Childe felt the weight of her silent plea—her hope that he could get them out.

The air in the room seemed to grow thicker as he glanced toward the door. There was a faint rumble beneath their feet, the building groaning once again as if something larger than them was moving through the structure. The silence in the building was deafening. Childe’s heart raced in his chest, the only sound the rhythmic thudding of his pulse, as he stood frozen, barely able to believe the chaos they had just stumbled into. The door to the small office was slightly ajar, the dim light from the hallway spilling in and casting long shadows across the room. It illuminated the dust motes swirling in the stagnant air, an eerie reminder that this place had been abandoned for some time. The faint smell of mildew and stale air hung heavily, adding to the feeling of confinement.

Ganyu, sitting in the far corner, looked lost and helpless. She had huddled herself into a tight ball, her thin frame shaking with fear. Her wide, uncertain eyes darted to the corner of the room, the door, then back to Childe. There was no denying the panic that clouded her face. She could barely even speak, her breath shallow and quick, as though she were fighting to keep from panicking completely. The trembling of her hands clutched her blazer tightly around her shoulders, pulling the fabric even tighter as if she could somehow draw comfort from the physical barrier. She had always been composed in the past, a steady presence in times of crisis, but now she felt like a fragile thing. A single gust of wind could blow her away.

Childe, however, had a different kind of resolve. He had seen death, destruction, and chaos before, but this felt different. This wasn’t a war or a battle he could prepare for. This was... something else. Something raw, primal, and unexplainable. He could feel the weight of the weapon in his hands, a hastily assembled tool made from the most convenient things he could find—a metal scale, some tape, and a few pens. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. Better than waiting for whatever was out there to come crashing in. His grip tightened instinctively, the metal scale pressed against his palm as if the weapon could offer him any sort of comfort in the face of this unknown terror.

His fingers tightened around the makeshift weapon, and his gaze swept the room. The overhead lights flickered as if the building itself was alive and struggling to keep things functioning. The faint buzz of electricity was the only other sound in the room, fighting against the suffocating silence. Childe glanced at Ganyu once more, whose eyes were wide with terror. Her fingers clutched the blazer tightly around her shoulders, and the fabric bunched awkwardly as she huddled further into the corner. She looked smaller than usual, vulnerable, and completely out of her element. Childe was used to seeing her composed and confident, but this... this was different. There was a weight to this situation, and she could feel it too. She had never faced anything like this before, and the realization left her frozen. The terror in her eyes was not just for herself but for the danger they were both trapped in.

Childe's thoughts briefly wandered to the chaos outside the building. His mind raced, asking questions he didn’t have answers to. Was the city still standing? Was his family safe? He hadn’t had the chance to check on them since the outbreak began. His gaze turned toward the window, but the outside was as bleak as the inside. The streetlights outside were dimmed, casting long shadows across the abandoned roads. Nothing moved out there. The world outside felt like a hollow shell, everything alive but not truly living.

A low, echoing sound broke the silence. The first step. Childe froze, his attention snapping back to the doorway. His eyes narrowed, a sharp sense of caution creeping up his spine. The noise was slow at first—distant, faint. But it grew louder with each passing second. Footsteps.

The sound was muffled by the walls, but unmistakable. Someone—or something—was approaching. It was impossible to tell whether it was human or not, but in a world like this, every step was unknown. Childe’s muscles tensed, his body coiled like a spring, ready to move at a moment’s notice. His eyes narrowed, his senses sharpening. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, an instinctive reaction to the threat that loomed just beyond their door.

He glanced back at Ganyu. Her wide, frightened eyes met his, and for a moment, Childe saw something that wasn’t fear. It was hesitation. She wasn’t sure what to do. She didn’t know whether to trust him to keep them both safe or if they were simply doomed to whatever fate awaited them. It made her feel small, and powerless in a way she hadn’t experienced in a long time. The weight of this situation pressed down on her like a suffocating blanket.

"Ganyu," he whispered, his voice low but firm. "Stay behind me. Do not move unless I say so. Understand?"

Her gaze locked with his, and for a moment, there was no response. Then, with a hesitant nod, she whispered back, "Okay." The words were barely a breath, but the weight behind them was enough to anchor her in place. She had no choice now but to trust him. She had no choice but to follow.

The footsteps outside continued, now closer, their steady, uneven rhythm reverberating through the thin walls of the building. They were growing louder. The hairs on the back of Childe’s neck stood on end, a chill creeping up his spine. Something was wrong. Something was wrong.

Childe pressed his back against the wall, slowly inching toward the doorway. His grip on the crude weapon tightened. The adrenaline in his veins surged, flooding him with raw energy. His mind sharpened, and the noise of the world outside faded into a dull hum. He didn’t have time to think about anything except surviving this next moment. Every movement he made was calculated, and precise. Every step could be his last.

He took a breath, his body still as a statue. Then, he carefully leaned to the side, peering around the corner of the doorway.

And there it was.

A silhouette—tall, lumbering, and unnervingly slow. It moved in jerky, unnatural steps, its head hanging at an odd angle as if it had forgotten how to function like a normal human. Childe’s breath caught in his throat as he realized that the creature in front of him wasn’t human. It was a zombie. His mind raced, but there was no time to think about how or why. There was only the raw, instinctual desire to survive.

The creature was ragged, its clothes barely hanging off its emaciated body. Bloodstains, rot, and filth caked its skin. The dull, lifeless eyes that stared ahead showed no signs of recognition or reasoning—just an insatiable hunger. Its jaw hung slightly open, emitting a low, guttural groan as it shuffled forward with a mindless determination. A putrid smell reached Childe’s nostrils, and he fought the urge to gag. The zombie was close, too close. He needed to act.

The footsteps slowed as the creature neared the door. Childe instinctively took a step back, barely able to keep his composure. His breath quickened, but he forced himself to stay calm. He couldn’t let it get the better of him.

He turned to look at Ganyu, who was still crouched in the corner, her eyes fixed on the zombie. She was trembling, her whole body shaking. The fear in her eyes made his chest tighten, but he didn’t have time to comfort her. It was too dangerous to be weak now. He needed to protect her—and survive.

"Get to the exit!" he barked at Ganyu, his voice hoarse, harsh with urgency.

Ganyu hesitated for only a moment, her gaze locked on Childe. She wasn’t sure she could leave him, but the look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. It was time to go. She quickly backed away, eyes never leaving the grotesque zombie. She scrambled for the door, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts.

The zombie took another step closer, its gaze now fixed on the door, drawn to the movement. It growled, low and menacing, as if sensing prey on the other side. Childe’s grip tightened on the weapon, his knuckles white. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep this up, but he didn’t have a choice. This thing had to go down—now.

With a sudden burst of movement, Childe stepped into the doorway, aiming for the zombie’s head. The weapon flew toward it, the makeshift metal scale connecting with a sickening crack. The creature recoiled, staggering backward for a moment, but it didn’t fall. It was still alive. Still moving. Hungry.

Childe gritted his teeth. The zombie was resilient and relentless. But he couldn’t afford to hesitate. It lunged forward, its outstretched arms reaching for him with terrifying speed. In that moment, Childe’s instincts took over. He spun out of the way just as the zombie’s claws barely missed him.

A flicker of movement caught his eye—Ganyu, slowly rising to her feet, fear flashing in her eyes. "Childe..." she whispered, but he didn’t have time to respond.

The zombie growled, its shrill sound echoing through the room, and lunged again. This time, Childe managed to side-step, but the creature’s decaying body slammed into his shoulder. He stumbled but didn’t lose his footing.

"Get to the exit!" he barked again, his voice firm.

Ganyu hesitated again, but this time, she didn’t wait. She smashed the door, her heart pounding in her chest.

With one final, desperate swing, Childe thrust the makeshift spear forward, aiming for the zombie’s skull. The spear sank deep into the creature’s head, and with a sickeningly loud crack, the zombie crumpled to the floor, lifeless. Blood and brain matter splattered across the floor, coating Childe’s hands in the thick, viscous substance.

Childe stepped back, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with each sharp breath. His heart was still racing, but he couldn’t afford to waste time. He needed to make sure the area was clear. He glanced at Ganyu, who stood frozen at the door, her face pale and horrified.

She was trying to hold herself together, but her hand was at her mouth, as though she were about to be sick. Childe’s gaze softened for a moment, but his instincts kept him focused. He knelt beside the fallen zombie, still feeling the eerie coldness of its body radiating outwards. His hand, coated in the creature’s blood, sifted through the brain matter with a grim determination. His fingers brushed over something cold, smooth, and oddly solid. He paused, pulling his hand back to inspect what he had found.

There, nestled within the grotesque mixture of blood and gore, was a small, clear pink crystal. It glistened under the faint light from above, its delicate shape contrasting sharply with the grisly scene around it. Childe furrowed his brows in confusion. What was this? He hadn’t seen anything like it before.

He held the crystal up to the light, examining it closely. It didn’t make sense. What would a crystal like this be doing inside the head of a zombie? It wasn’t like anything he had ever encountered.

"Childe..." Ganyu’s voice was barely a whisper, her tone strained as she watched him from the doorway. Her face was pale, and she looked as if she were about to vomit at any moment.

"Let’s go," Childe said, standing up and giving Ganyu a reassuring glance. "We need to get out of here before more of them come."

Ganyu nodded shakily, her wide eyes still reflecting the moment's shock. But she didn’t argue. She followed him as he led the way out of the room, both of them fully aware that danger could be lurking around every corner.

Childe’s brow furrowed as he held the pink crystal in his hand, his gaze still locked on its translucent surface. It shimmered faintly, almost as if it had its light, and the peculiar weight of it seemed to defy the chaotic scene around him. A zombie. A zombie. His mind struggled to reconcile the reality of the situation. The world was breaking down, monsters walked the streets, and now there was a strange crystal inside the head of a corpse. This wasn’t just some weird fluke. This wasn’t just blood and gore—it was something bigger. Something... unexplainable. But no matter how fantastical the idea of a crystal-laden zombie might be, it didn’t change the fact that what he had just killed was a zombie. He had seen too many battles, too many deaths, to ignore what was right in front of him. No matter how bizarre the circumstances might be, he had a job to do. Childe’s eyes narrowed as he pocketed the crystal. "A zombie’s a zombie," he muttered to himself, forcing the strange thought aside. "And I’m still alive." That was what mattered.

 Childe’s mind raced as he tried to think past the present, past the terrifying uncertainty of their situation. His heart ached with the weight of his responsibility. The sharp edge of his thoughts cut through the panic like a blade—his siblings. They were still out there, somewhere.

He clenched his jaw, his grip tightening on the crude weapon in his hands, his knuckles turning white. They were his family. His responsibility. The image of them, so young, so fragile, flooded his mind like an overwhelming tide. He could still see their faces, those expressions of trust, of dependence, that so often made him feel both proud and burdened. Nadia, always looking out for them, always standing as a shield between them and the harsh realities of the world. But even Nadia wasn’t invincible—not in this chaos, not in a world turned upside down.

Childe swallowed hard, his thoughts swirling in a storm of guilt and fear. Could he be sure they were safe? Could he trust Nadia to protect them? He hoped she was, but he also knew better than to assume anything in this situation. She wasn’t the kind of person who needed to be asked to take care of his siblings—she’d do it without a second thought. But this wasn’t just any other mission, any other day.

In any other situation, the world could’ve burned around them, and Childe would have kept going, knowing his siblings were safe in Nadia’s hands. His eyes flicked back to Ganyu, her vulnerable form still etched in his mind, reminding him of the importance of protecting those who were left. But here… now… it was survival. The rules had shifted. The game had changed. His siblings were not his priority at this moment—not in the same way they had been before.

He cursed under his breath, a frustration that twisted in his gut. He couldn't afford to put them first right now—not in this place, not with the sound of something dangerous prowling outside their door. The air felt like it was suffocating him, thick with the realization that he couldn’t protect them from afar. He wasn’t there with them now, and no matter how badly he wished he could be, no amount of hope could change that.

The thought of them out there in the midst of whatever nightmare was unfolding, without him, made his blood run cold. They were barely on the edge of adulthood—too young, too inexperienced. He could already feel the weight of responsibility crushing him, the harsh reality sinking in. He never believed in one but if there was a God out there, he’d never prayed harder in his life.

"Please," Childe thought, his mind desperate, "if I can’t be there if I can’t protect them, then let them be safe. Please, let them stay safe." He clenched his eyes shut for a brief moment, focusing on the deep, guttural need to ensure their safety, even if it meant sacrificing his own life. He wasn’t sure where that kind of hope came from, but the desire to save them ran deeper than anything else. If he had to make a deal with fate, with the gods, he would.

But even as he silently begged, he knew there was no guarantee. This wasn’t about guarantees. This was survival. And right now, his survival was the one thing that mattered.

He couldn’t afford to let anything—anything—happen to Ganyu. He couldn’t afford to lose her, too. She was his responsibility now, just as much as his younger siblings. The sharp sting of guilt gnawed at him, and the tightness in his chest only deepened. If there was anything he could do to make sure that, at the very least, she was safe, he would do it.

"Stay with me," he muttered under his breath, eyes flickering back to the door. It wasn’t just his siblings anymore. It was everyone he cared about.

And in that moment, Childe swore to himself that he would fight until his last breath to keep them safe. No matter the cost.