Welcome to VEDRAH

Natzy rushed to the bus door and tried to push it open.

Locked.

'What the hell...' she thought, her face twisting in anger. Her hand fell away in defeat.

She turned toward the empty driver's seat, surprise flickered across her face, but she said nothing. Her expression remained hard.

Behind her, the bus stretched back with rows of seats. Only one space was empty, near the front, as if it had been waiting for her. The rest were all occupied.

Natzy scanned the faces of the passengers, but her mind was elsewhere. She had to find Marcus, and it had to be tonight. She couldn't let him live to see another day.

"Marcus," she whispered under her breath, her face remained cold.

She had to get off this bus, as she didn't have time to waste here.

But then she noticed something strange.

The silence.

It was too quiet. A bus moving without a driver should cause panic, confusion, and whispers. But there was nothing.

'Am I reading too much into this?' she wondered.

'No. This definitely isn't right.' Her jaw tightened.

"Hey," she said, looking at the passenger sitting next to the empty seat.

It was a young woman in her twenties with a bright face and sharp eyes.

No response.

Natzy blinked. The woman stared straight ahead, unmoving.

Maybe she hadn't heard.

Natzy called again. "Can you hear me?"

Still nothing.

She reached out and lightly tapped the woman's shoulder.

The woman didn't flinch, nor blink. Her head remained forward.

Natzy's brows furrowed.

She moved to the next passenger. An elderly man who looked to be in his late forties. His face was pale, his beard rough. He had the skin of someone who had seen too much of life.

"Where is the driver?" Natzy asked, studying him closely.

No movement. Nor acknowledgment. He stared forward like all the others.

She glanced down the aisle. Every passenger sat in the same stiff posture, facing ahead.

"Damn it. A bunch of mutes," she cursed under her breath and turned toward the driver's seat.

"Show yourself," she said in a low, cold tone, walking forward.

Silence greeted her.

"Hey! Don't get me started. You're going to regret following me. I'm going to destroy whatever you're trying to pull, and then... kill you." Her voice rose with each word. Her face twisted with rage.

Still, silence.

But Natzy didn't stop. She was in a hurry as Marcus was still out there.

"Hey!!" Her voice filled the bus.

Nothing moved. Not a single passenger stirred.

Her heart pounded with frustration. Her teeth clenched, and her hands curled into fists.

'Let's see if you reveal yourself after this,' she thought with a dark smirk before bending down and pulling up her jeans. A dagger was hidden in her boot. She pulled it free, then checked her other leg and retrieved a gun.

'Let's see if you reveal yourself after this,' she thought with a dark smirk.

Without hesitation, she aimed at the windshield and fired.

Once. Twice. Three times... until the gun clicked empty.

"What...?" The word slipped out before she could stop it. Her mouth fell open, and her brows arched.

The glass remained undamaged and only her bullets clattered uselessly to the floor.

Her pulse quickened.

Then a booming voice echoed through the bus at that exact moment.

Thump.

Her heart skipped a beat.

"We will be on our way now... to the real hell."

Natzy spun around, but saw no one. She glanced back at the driver's seat. Still empty.

She scoffed. "Playing with me, huh? Interesting." She returned the empty gun to its holster but kept the dagger clutched in her hand.

'Who the hell is behind that voice?'

"The real executioner."

Natzy froze. Wondering how her thoughts had been read aloud.

She decided to play along, to uncover who was behind this.

Suddenly, the bus lurched forward and began moving.

'Fine. You'll have to stop somewhere,' she thought coldly, her gaze flickering to the motionless passengers. 'And when you do, whoever's behind this will pay.'

"And as for you... I'll come back for you, Marcus," she muttered through clenched teeth while staring outside the bus.

But then, just as suddenly, the bus stopped.

It was too soon than she had imagined.

Natzy frowned.

The doors slid open.

"Out of the bus. We are here." From the same booming voice.

The passengers, who had been frozen moments ago, suddenly came to life. They blinked, looked around in confusion, and began shuffling toward the exit.

Natzy followed, her body was tense.

She stepped off the bus and stopped.

Sand. Endless sand stretched in every direction.

The full moon hung high, spilling silvery light that cut through the darkness.

'A desert.'

But in the distance, she could see trees. A strange, twisted forest that didn't belong. The air was hot and dry, nothing like the cool night breeze outside the club.

'Where is this place?' she thought. 'I was in the city just minutes ago...'

Around her, whispers filled the air. The other passengers looked just as confused and frightened.

Natzy turned back toward the bus, hoping to find some clue or the driver.

But the bus was gone.

Vanished as if it had never existed.

Her eyes widened, before she rushed to the empty space where it had been, stretching her hand out.

But nothing. Just air.

Her arm fell weakly to her side.

'First, there was no driver. Then they were all mute. Then suddenly, everyone came to life...' She tried to piece it together.

'An unknown voice controlling everything. And now... disappearing into thin air?'

She spun around, her dagger still clutched in her hand. Her gaze swept across the other passengers. About fifteen people stood scattered in the sand, all looking lost and terrified.

'Someone here has to know something,' she thought, her jaw tightening.

She walked toward the nearest person. A middle-aged woman in a business suit, clutching her purse like it might save her.

"You," Natzy said sharply. "What's the last thing you remember before getting on that bus?"

The woman blinked at her. "I... I was walking home from work. Then the bus just appeared and... and the door opened. I don't know why I got on. I just... did."

"You just did?" Natzy's voice was hard with disbelief.

"I couldn't help it!" the woman said, her voice breaking. "It was like something was pulling me!"

Natzy's eyes narrowed before moving to the next person.

It was a young man in his twenties, his face was pale with shock.

"What about you?" she demanded.

"Same," he whispered.

"I was leaving a bar. The bus came out of nowhere. I tried to walk past it but... I couldn't. My legs just... carried me inside."

Natzy's pulse quickened. 'We were all compelled. Pulled in against our will.'

She scanned the group again, counting faces. Then her eyes caught on someone standing apart from the others.

A man in the distance, sitting on a rock. He was sharpening a blade with slow, deliberate strokes. His face was calm, and unbothered, as if he'd been expecting this.

Natzy's attention started toward him, before...

"Hey!" a rough voice shouted behind her.

"Stop asking stupid questions and help us figure out where the hell we are!"

She turned.

It was the man from the bus. The one with the rough beard and aggressive eyes.

"I'm trying to figure that out," Natzy said coldly.

"By interrogating people? What are you, a cop?" He sneered, stepping closer.

"No," Natzy said flatly. "I'm someone who doesn't wait around to die."

His face darkened. "You think you're better than the rest of us?"

"I think I'm the only one here actually doing something."

"Hey! Stop it, both of you!" A woman's voice cut through the tension.

Natzy turned.

It was the woman from the bus. The one with the bright face and sharp eyes. She stood between them, with her hands raised.

"Fighting isn't going to help," the woman said firmly. "We need to work together."

The man scoffed. "Work together? We don't even know where we are!"

"Exactly," the woman said. "So let's figure it out. I'm Zeerah." She looked at Natzy with a smile.

"What's your name?"

Natzy didn't answer. Her attention had shifted to something else.

A young boy sat in the sand a few feet away, his knees pulled to his chest. He looked no older than fifteen or seventeen. His face was streaked with tears, and his whole body trembled.

'A kid?' Natzy thought, her chest tightening. 'Why would a kid be here?'

The aggressive man noticed her staring.

"Hey, kid!" he barked, walking toward the boy. "What are you crying about?"

The boy flinched but didn't respond.

"I asked you a question!" The man grabbed the boy's arm and yanked him to his feet.

The boy stumbled, nearly falling. "I... I don't know where I am," he whispered, his voice shaking.

"None of us do! Stop whining!"

Natzy's hand shot out and grabbed the man's wrist, hard. "Let him go."

The man turned on her, rage flashing in his eyes. "Stay out of this!"

"He's a kid," Natzy said, her voice cold as ice.

"So what?"

"So touch him again, and you'll lose that hand."

For a moment, they stared at each other. Then the man yanked his arm free and spat on the ground. "Crazy bitch."

He walked off, muttering curses.

Natzy looked down at the boy. "What's your name?"

"Naro," he whispered, not meeting her eyes.

She nodded once, then turned away, as she didn't have time for this. She needed answers, and not distractions.

Her gaze drifted back to the man with the blade. He was still sitting there, calm and composed, watching everyone with a glare.

Before she could take a step toward him, Zeerah appeared at her side.

"Thank you," Zeerah said softly. "For stopping that man. Not everyone would have."

Natzy said nothing.

"I'm Zeerah," she repeated, extending her hand with a bright smile.

Natzy glanced at the offered hand but didn't take it. Her face remained cold.

Zeerah's smile faded slightly. She lowered her hand. "Okay. I get it. You're not the friendly type."

"No," Natzy said bluntly. "I'm not."

"Fair enough." Zeerah crossed her arms. "But whether you like it or not, we're stuck here together. So maybe..."

Boom!!

A deafening sound exploded from the sky. Everyone's heads snapped upward.

Words appeared in the air, burning bright against the darkening sky:

"WELCOME TO VEDRAH"

Beside the words, a grinning skeleton head floated, its hollow eyes staring down at them.

Natzy's breath caught in her throat. The air around her felt thick, and suffocating.

Then the voice returned. The same booming voice from the bus.

"You have all been chosen. Welcome to your judgment."

Gasps and cries erupted from the group. Some people fell to their knees. Others backed away, as if they could escape.

"Judgment?" someone shouted. "For what?"

The voice didn't answer.

Instead, the ground beneath them began to tremble.

Natzy's heart pounded. She crouched low, her dagger ready in her hand.

The sand around them started to shift and swirl, forming patterns. The last was a circle.

They were standing inside a massive circle carved into the desert floor. And around the edge of the circle, symbols began to glow. Bright red, like fire.

"What the hell is this?" the aggressive man shouted, his voice cracking with fear.

The symbols flared brighter. The heat in the air intensified, becoming unbearable.

And then, from the center of the circle, something began to rise.

A stone pedestal emerged from the sand, smooth and black. And on top of it sat a single object.

An hourglass.

The sand inside was blood red, and it had already begun to fall.

"You have seventy-two hours," the voice said. "Survive, and you may live to witness the next trial. Fail, and you will remain lost... forever."

The last word echoed across the desert, with disturbing chill.

She looked back at the hourglass, watching the red sand fall.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The clock had started.

* * *