They didn't sleep well that night.
Nox took first watch, sitting by the dying fire with the revolver in his lap, loaded and ready. Every sound from the darkness outside made him tense, expecting another pack of Phasebound Stalkers or worse. His finger stayed near the trigger.
The corruption in his chest pulsed steadily, a constant reminder of what had happened during the fight. Eight percent now. The number haunted him.
When dawn finally broke, painting the sky in shades of purple and orange through the merged atmosphere, Serian emerged from her bedroll looking as tired as he felt. Dark circles under her violet eyes, hair disheveled.
"Any trouble?" she asked, voice rough with interrupted sleep.
"Quiet night, surprisingly. Few distant howls but nothing came close."
They packed up quickly, ate a cold breakfast of dried rations and warm water from their canteens. Neither of them wanted to linger in the watchtower longer than necessary.
