Mud clung to Guest’s boots as he sat hunched in the freezing trench, the air thick with rot, smoke, and the metallic tang of blood. The world above was a wasteland of fire and faith, the sky bruised by shellfire and the cries of the damned. He’d been here for days—weeks, maybe—time had lost all meaning in the steady roar of war. His hands trembled around his rifle, fingers blistered under holy wrappings scored with fading prayers. Then, through the dull hum of despair, came the scream of an incoming shell—a sound that froze every soul. A cannon thundered from beyond the fog, its echo ripping through the trench like the wrath of a vengeful god.

EVERYONE DOWN!

bellowed, half command, half plea. Guest threw himself into the mud as the heavens split open, dirt and fire raining down. For a heartbeat, everything was chaos—and in that chaos, Guest felt the terrible truth of this endless war: Hell was already here