The smoke from the barrier still hung over the valley like a bruise.
By mid-morning, the fires had dulled to ash, but the air beyond the walls still carried the scent of scorched fur and ozone — a reminder of what Tina's light had burned away the night before.
Riverside Sanctuary stood quiet behind them, its walls blackened but unbroken. Inside, Tina's shimmering barrier pulsed faintly, a heartbeat of safety. Outside, the world waited — still wrong, still hungry.
Ethan led the small party through the eastern gate. His silver threads glimmered faintly under his skin, coiled and ready. Keith walked at his shoulder, staff in hand, calm as stone. Ellie took the rear, blade unsheathed. Between them moved Aria — the youngest of the survivors, barely thirteen, a new Beast Master whose screen still glowed with empty slots.
The forest just past the walls was twisted and strange. Charred roots smoldered where the barrier fire had scorched them, and veins of pale essence still pulsed through the ground, feeding things that should have died. No birds. No chatter. Just the wind through black leaves and the faint hiss of distant corruption.
"We won't go far," Ethan said quietly. "We find a clean bond or we fall back. First sign of corruption, we burn it."
Keith's eyes scanned the shadows. "Beasts don't wait to be found."
"They'll come," Ellie murmured, hand brushing her hilt. "They always do."
Aria said nothing. Her small hands gripped her knife so tightly the knuckles blanched. She'd seen enough horror the night before to last a lifetime — beasts clawing through fire, people screaming within sight of safety — yet she walked anyway.
---
The First Bond
They reached the outer woodlands within the hour. Ash softened the ground, muffling their steps. Then Keith raised a hand, halting them.
"There," he said softly.
In a clearing ahead, something moved through the ferns — sleek, black, and oddly deliberate. It moved too smoothly for a scavenger, too carefully for hunger. When it stepped into the light, Ethan saw the truth.
An ant. The size of a dog. Its carapace gleamed like obsidian, mandibles twitching as if tasting the air.
Ellie hissed under her breath. "That's new."
Keith tilted his head. "Soldier-cast, by the look of it. Not much bite, not much brain."
Aria stared. Her pulse thundered so loudly Ethan could almost feel it. "It's not angry," she said. "It's… working."
Keith frowned. "What?"
"Everything else out here is noise," Aria whispered. "But this one… it just wants to build."
Ethan looked between them, then nodded slowly. "Ants don't fight for rage. They fight for purpose."
He crouched to meet Aria's eyes. "If it feels right, trust it. Not everything strong needs to roar."
Ellie rolled her eyes but smiled faintly. "If it bites you, I'm cutting its head off."
Aria stepped forward, trembling but determined. The ant froze, antennae sweeping toward her.
"Easy," Ethan murmured, threads drifting outward in thin lines of silver, ready to intercept.
The ant didn't attack. It bowed.
Aria reached out with her will — that fragile thread the System had awoken in her — and touched it.
Light flared green between them. For a heartbeat, the air shimmered. Then the connection snapped into place like a lock finding home.
Aria gasped, knees buckling. Ethan caught her before she fell.
"I can feel it," she whispered. "Like… a hum in my head."
Keith watched warily. "And it's not trying to eat you. That's new."
The ant clicked its mandibles once, then lowered its body until Aria could reach its back.
Ellie blinked. "It's kneeling."
Aria climbed up. The ant rose smoothly, carrying her weight as if she were nothing. The girl smiled for the first time since the invasion.
Ethan let himself exhale. "First bond."
---
The Second Bond
They pressed deeper into the woods, leaving the burned zone behind. The air thickened. Shadows clung longer than they should. Twice Ethan felt the twitch of danger and once snapped a thread into the underbrush, slicing clean through the neck of something that had been watching them crawl.
Then they found the hollow.
It was a tangle of webbing — thick as rope, draped between trees, humming faintly with essence. The ground was littered with husks.
A sound cut the silence — a roar, deep and desperate.
From the shadows, a lion stumbled into view, half-bound in silk, eyes glowing faintly with corruption. It strained, bellowed — and then the web around it drew tight. Something massive dropped from above.
A spider the size of a car hit the ground, legs stabbing into soil, mandibles clicking wetly. Its eyes burned green. The lion didn't stand a chance.
Ellie's voice was a harsh whisper. "No. Aria, don't even think—"
"I want it," Aria said.
Keith spun on her. "Girl, that thing would drain your essence dry. It's not a pet. It's a monster."
Aria didn't back down. "It feels… quiet."
Ethan's gut twisted. He saw the same steady calm she'd shown with the ant. And something in the spider's stance — the precision, the patience — mirrored it.
He closed his eyes once, then nodded. "We do it my way."
---
The fight was fast and brutal.
Ethan's threads lashed out, binding the spider's front legs. Keith slammed his staff into the dirt, the ground rising like a wave to pin the creature's back half. Ellie darted in and carved clean lines along the joints, severing tendons before they could snap free.
"Now, Aria!" Ethan shouted.
The girl jumped from the ant's back, essence flaring like a second heartbeat. Her small hands lifted, glowing green, and the world seemed to tilt.
The spider thrashed once, then froze.
For one long, breaking instant, Aria screamed — not in pain, but in effort, as if holding something vast inside something small. Ethan pushed a stabilizing pulse through the air, steadying her, steadying everything.
Then the spider bowed.
Eight black limbs folded. The web trembled and fell silent.
Aria swayed, trembling, and Ethan caught her. Her skin burned with heat, but she smiled — dazed, exhausted, triumphant.
"I did it," she whispered.
"You did," Ethan said softly. "And it didn't kill you."
Ellie stared at the spider. "Yet."
Keith gave a low whistle. "Two beasts at thirteen. You're either blessed or doomed."
Aria managed a grin. "Maybe both."
---
Return
The walk back to the Sanctuary felt longer. The ant carried Aria gently, its antennae twitching with each step. The spider followed at a respectful distance, silent and strange, trailing silver web that shimmered like rain.
When they reached the gates, the guards froze.
Ethan raised a hand. "Easy! They're hers."
The spider stopped outside the wall. The ant stepped through.
Aria slid down, legs shaking, face pale but proud.
Keith rested a hand on her shoulder. "You've done a terrible thing very well, girl."
Ellie smirked. "That's the nicest thing he's said all week."
Ethan exhaled. "Rest. Eat. We'll talk about control tomorrow."
Aria nodded. "They'll listen," she said simply, and somehow, everyone believed her.
As she disappeared inside the hall, Ethan looked back at the spider waiting in the sun's dying light — a shadow bound by will and thread.
The world beyond the walls was still wrong.
But for the first time, they had proof it could be tamed.