Dawn breaks, illuminating the inky darkness of the cloud-shrouded night. Snow continues to fall. It coats the elegant crenellations and walkways of the battlements and the road beyond the gatehouse. A vibration begins to accompany the soft noise of so many falling flakes. Then, figures emerge from the snow-hazed morning in the distance along the highway. At first, it’s a few. Some shamble and jerk, and others stride with unnatural stiffness. Few become many. The many become hundreds, the sound of their steps drowning out the snowfall. The walls vibrate like a vile heartbeat with the quake of their march. Soon, thousands of walking dead, their hollow eyes burning with flames of hate, bear inexorably down on the city gates.

~ Envisioned by Joe Y.