Eleven figures stood huddled in the dark belly of the cave. The air was damp and cold, heavy with the scent of stone and something faintly rotten. Some of them still looked rattled—Lena most of all.
Her voice came out small, uncertain."Did we lose them?"
Riko was the first to respond, eyes scanning the black maw of the tunnel behind them."Seems like it. At least… I hope so."
Lena's lips tightened. "Why did we even come in here? Especially with those ugly spiders crawling around?"
Nick, who usually spent his time glaring at the world like it owed him a debt, finally spoke."Why didn't we fight? We could've taken them."
Nicolas, who had been silently staring into the darkness ahead, broke his stillness at last. His voice was calm, but the words carried weight.
"They were just scouts. If we'd engaged, reinforcements would've swarmed us in minutes. We'd be dead. They're probably still searching for us now, so keep moving."
The cave swallowed their voices. No one argued. After a brief pause to catch their breath, the group began moving again, boots crunching over damp rock.
Tarrin stayed in the middle of the formation, letting his mind wander.
'Nicolas said the Basin starts at the end of this cave… We've crossed the whole mountain by now—it has to be close.'
Half an hour passed, their path sloping steadily downward. The tunnel grew narrower, the air heavier. Then, without warning, Nicolas stopped. The sharp precision of his movement set everyone on edge.
"This is it," he said quietly. "Be ready."
A wave of tension rippled through the group. They had survived the journey so far—barely. They'd only spotted one Anchored in the distance, a rare stroke of luck in these parts.
But luck didn't last forever.
And now, the real challenge was about to begin.
Muscles tightened as they rounded the final bend.
And then they saw it.
Light. Blinding at first after so long in the cave, spilling across the jagged stone. With that light came the sight of the land below.
Two hundred meters down stretched a vast wasteland, blackened and cracked, as if some colossal firestorm had torn through only yesterday. The ground shimmered faintly, distorted by rising heat.
A gust of hot wind struck Tarrin full in the face. His expression darkened. 'What is this? Miles upon miles, all scorched and burning? How does it stay like this? Are we inside a volcano…?'
Nicolas moved first, his boots steady and deliberate as he began descending the slope. The rest fell in line soon after—none of them eager to linger in the spider-infested dark behind them.
Jayden's voice broke the silence, strained with unease as his eyes swept the blackened expanse from above."So… how do we even find them in all this?"
From the lead, Nicolas answered without looking back. His tone was level, but carried an undercurrent that was hard to miss."There's no exact location. But the best guess? The nest is somewhere in the middle of the Basin."
Jayden stared into the endless charred horizon. Nothing but scorched earth, heat haze, and silence. His jaw tightened as his nerves began to fray.
When the group finally reached the bottom, the change was immediate. The air itself felt heavy, thick, charged with some unseen weight.
Tarrin's chest tightened. The sensation reminded him uncomfortably of his own aura—that quiet, oppressive dread pressing on lungs and mind alike.
He could feel it shifting inside him, the subtle charm he usually exuded dissolving into that suffocating pressure, as though the Basin itself was dragging his power toward its darker aspect.
He tried to rein it in. Failed.
'What's happening? Why can't I control my own damned power?'
Beside him, Celith stiffened. She sensed it instantly.
The sweet tantalizing smell she always associated with him was gone—replaced by that creeping dread, slipping beneath the skin like a whisper of something wrong.
Her golden eyes flicked toward him, confusion flashing for just an instant.
Tarrin caught the look. And he knew. If she had noticed already, it was only a matter of time before the rest did too.
'This is bad. Really bad. And now the headache's starting on top of it.'
He wasn't exaggerating. A sharp pulse of pain began blooming at the base of his skull, spreading outward like a slow burn.
Beneath it came a faint ringing—distant, but persistent, like a needle scraping inside his ears.
His vision blurred for half a heartbeat, and he nearly stumbled. Then, as quickly as it had flared, the pain dropped to something tolerable. Barely.
It still hurt. Just… less like dying.
'What the hell's wrong with this place? Why is it twisting my Gift inside out?'
"You feel that?" Riko's low voice came from beside him, wary eyes flicking through the haze.
Tarrin forced a smirk, even as his head throbbed. "You shit yourself already? We barely got here."
The attempt at humor landed flat. Riko just gave him a strange look—half confusion, half unease—and turned away.
When Tarrin looked toward the front, Nicolas was already watching him. Their eyes met. The Sergeant's expression was grim—sharp, measuring.
'Well, no surprise he sensed it. But why me? Why now? Will it affect the others too, or is this just my own private nightmare?'
He considered saying something, warning the others. But the thought died as quickly as it came. The air itself was pressing on everyone like a weight—thick, oppressive, alive.
If his own power was warping, maybe it would blend into the chaos. Maybe they wouldn't notice.
He lifted his gaze toward the horizon, searching for something—movement, color, a landmark—anything to give shape to the endless black plain.
Nothing.
Just scorched emptiness stretching to infinity.
"Fun ends now," Nicolas called out, voice cutting through the silence. "Let's move."
The group straightened, though their nerves were still frayed thin. They followed him wordlessly, boots crunching against brittle ground.
An hour later, exhaustion had already settled into their bones. The Basin drained strength like it was feeding on it.
"It has to be, what, forty degrees here?" Jayden muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. His eyes swept the horizon again—nothing but fire-scorched soil and heatwaves dancing like ghosts.
Tarrin couldn't help but notice Nicolas' eyes darting across the scorched plain, scanning every shadow and ripple in the air. The man looked like a predator trying to catch a scent.
He knows something, Tarrin thought, studying him from behind. Something the rest of us don't. Worth keeping an eye on… not like there's anything else to watch out here.
And then—right on cue—a sound broke through the burning silence.
A wail. Distant, drawn-out, and pitiful. Like something dying and refusing to accept it.
Every head turned. Muscles tensed.
Nicolas froze for a heartbeat, then spun toward the group, his gaze sharp enough to cut through steel.
"Let's move," he ordered, his tone clipped and commanding. In the next instant, he was already in motion, storming toward the sound with a hunter's focus.
The rest followed, struggling to match his pace. Sand and ash crunched beneath their boots as they moved, hearts pounding. It took barely two minutes before they arrived close enough to see the source.
They dropped low, crouching behind a jagged rise of stone, breaths shallow, eyes fixed forward.
There—half-buried in the scorched dirt—lay a creature. Sheep-like, at least in shape, but wrong in every other way. Its body was too long, the horns too sharp, and its wool shimmered faintly like molten glass.
It wasn't moving. The thing was dead—freshly so, judging by the rising heat distortion above it.
Nicolas gritted his teeth. His voice, when it came, was low but steady.
"We're about to be attacked," he said. "Stay alert."
It felt like the world itself was holding its breath—waiting.
Waiting for something.
The thing that was about to tear through them at any second.
Tarrin's mind raced, flipping through every creature profile he'd memorized from the reports Irene had oh-so-graciously dumped on his lap. Names, shapes, behaviors—more than a hundred Banes flickered through his memory in a blur of panic.
But one image refused to leave. One that froze the blood in his veins.
"Oh, fuck…" he muttered under his breath, the sound carrying farther than he meant it to. "It's the bloody snake, isn't it?"
The others turned sharply, realization dawning all at once. Their eyes darted across the scorched ground, searching for movement, for a shadow, for anything.
Tarrin glanced toward Nicolas—only to see the man staring at a spot right beneath Lena's boots, his expression unreadable, expectant.
'Oh, shit.'
Instinct took over. Tarrin lunged forward, boots tearing through sand. He barely felt the vibration underfoot before he reached her—pushing her out of the way with every ounce of strength he had.
Time slowed to a crawl. He caught a glimpse of Lena's wide, panicked eyes—just before the ground erupted.
A monstrous, scaled head burst through the earth, massive jaws splitting open in a roar that felt like it came from the core of the planet.
The thing's eyes burned with primal hunger, its teeth glinting like molten knives.
'Too fucking late.'
The thought flashed through his mind a heartbeat before impact. He didn't even have time to brace—
Then a hand clamped onto his uniform, iron-strong.
With one brutal pull, Nicolas yanked Tarrin aside.
The world blurred—sand, wind, and shock—just before the serpent's gaping maw smashed through the space he'd stood in, its bite missing him by inches.