"My back is in agony," King grumbled, fixing his posture against the hard wooden frame of their carriage. "Curse this wagon. Ugh! Why did we even bother going back?"

"It'd be less painful for me if I hear silence instead," Pandora replied, her tone laced with dry sarcasm despite her otherwise impassive demeanor. King snorted, glancing out of the carriage window. He thumped his head against the ceiling when the vehicle suddenly jolted over a protruding rock. "You didn't put up much of a fight when we were in Venice."

"I don't know. Maybe because I didn't expect this seat as hard and sharp as a broken spine on my ass back then," King hissed, rubbing his head while gesturing the other hand wildly in the air. 

Pandora sighed. "I believe we are near anyway. Just endure it for a bit more."

Though he refrained from speaking, King emitted a snort through his nose and turned to look outside the window instead. Pandora remained silent as well. She was well aware of her cousin's unmentioned distaste for their pride. But they had already journeyed to Rumania, enduring hours of sea and land travel and now contending with the jarring ride of their shabby, stinky carriage. Though the carriage might have seemed on the verge of falling apart with every bump, it was sufficient for their needs. They just needed a quick ride outside the skirts of the city, and splurging on a more luxurious conveyance was not worth it.

King glanced at Pandora, who brushed a stray strand of her black braid from her face. Her expression remained neutral, seemingly oblivious to his unspoken pleas. King eventually resigned himself with a melodramatic sigh, tossing his head back against the headrest with a soft thud.

"Cease your grumbling," Pandora instructed without looking at him, getting annoyed. King muttered a foul curse through clenched teeth, rubbing his now aching head. A few moments later, he rested his head against the small window by his side, his faux sobs fading away as the cool breeze caressed his face.

It is so green, he thought, observing the tall trees passing by like a rolling film. Everything was familiar yet distant. He was accustomed to the capital, where man-made structures climbed toward the heavens and the metallic carriages of gas engines populated the streets. Venice has been rich in color, but this... this was unmatched.

King leaned back against the headrest, this time more cautiously, and watched as Pandora retrieve her coffee flask.

"You should reduce your coffee intake," King remarked, attempting to sound casual. He has heard bad effects of coffee to people, sickness, infertility, or hysteria, and is worried.

"I feel drowsy," Pandora replied, taking a sip.

"... That is your third today."

"Is it?" Pandora asked, sipping her coffee. King shot her a disapproving glance.

Suddenly, an abrupt snort followed by a snore emanated from the front of the carriage. King turned to look at his cousin, Douglas, an impressively large young man who was slumped awkwardly in his seat. 

Pandora furrowed her brows as King began to sing loudly. Douglas stirred, groaning in irritation. That didn't stop King; he was getting his revenge from when the latter had jolted him awake by screaming the previous day. His lips curled up as his voice rose in pitch, grating on the ears.

Douglas’ head shot up, confusion giving way to a scowl. "King! Shut it!" he snapped, giving King a weak kick on the shin before attempting to return to sleep. King continued his off-key singing, pitch so out of range that the latter bolted up for real.

"Ack—hey!" King fought back as Douglas grabbed him, his grip firm. Douglas delivered a sharp knuckle to his head.

"You asked for it, you shrimp!"

"Wha—who's a shrimp?!" King growled.

Pandora’s knuckles whitened around her flask as the two bickered, jostling at each other and bumping into her. It was another of their perpetual nonsense again. "Stop it, you—!"

Pandora’s words were cut off when the horses started to whine loudly. And before they knew it, all three were thrown off their seats, their worlds colliding against each other as a blinding flash along with the jaw-rattling noise of splintering wood swept their senses.

King gritted his teeth as pain bit into his body relentlessly like a mad dog. The world spun so many times he had semi-drifted out of consciousness, unable to process what had happened within the few seconds.

Then a moment later, everything ceased, the world gone into obscurity. King felt senseless. At times, his eyes slightly opened, like it was grasping reality for the first time yet again. He thought he was dreaming. Then he recollected some events.

Terra Madre, King thought, that shithole. King and the other two were heading back to their pride for his father's 60th birtday, which was going to be held on the same day as the succession rite, a formal ceremony which should have been him in the spotlight if things went differently in the past. And now, here they were, renting out a shabby ride from Slovenia and—

King gritted his teeth and twisted as he felt pain crashed back in on his guts. He started coughing and heaving for air, catching a whirl of dust and scenting the small trail of blood that dripped down his nose. Dust whirled in around him, wooden shard scattered around like a bundle of confetti.

He dazedly twisted his head to one side, hoping his cousins would get less than the abrupt correction of his nose. He watched Pandora move, who disturbed the hollow mass of wood. "Douglas?" King forced out of his burning throat, his voice barely reduced to a whisper.

Douglas patted his forehead, moaning as he soaked the tips of his fingers with a print of fresh blood. "I'm..." He groaned as he tried to sit up, "I'm all right?" he returned, sort of like a question rather than an answer. King and Pandora were still relieved to hear it.

King tried to move, and he hissed in response. There was a burning sensation on the left side of his pelvis. At least he wasn't dead, he thought.

"Get out," Pandora blurted, her voice urgent. "We have to—"

They froze. A faint, raspy growl slithered through the air, blending with the soft crunch of pebbles shifting under unseen steps. The world had gone deathly silent.

Then came the stench—thick, stagnant, and suffocating. It clawed at their senses, rancid and wrong. King grimaced, instinctively switching to breathing through his mouth, but even that did little to block out the putrid assault. His pulse pounded in his ears, each beat a war drum against his ribs.

Then he saw terror on plastered on the faces of Douglas and Pandora, whose wide, unblinking eyes were fixed on him... No, they weren’t looking at him—they were looking past him. Their expressions stretched into something unnatural, something carved from raw, breathless terror.

A shudder crept down King's spine. Slowly—painfully slowly—he turned.

Through a narrow gap in the wreckage, something stared back.

It was hunched, its leathery gray skin pulled taut over a skeletal frame. A twisted grin curled its lips, revealing rows of jagged, shark-like teeth. It didn’t blink. It didn’t move.

It smiled.