Lein Thorne woke to the sound of knocking.
The wooden door of his small shack creaked open before he could answer. Two figures stood in the early morning light—Marcus, one of the faction's Tier 1 evolved, and Verna, a woman who worked in the communal kitchens.
"Lein," Marcus said, his voice flat. "We need you. Come with us."
Lein sat up slowly, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "What for?"
"Just come. Won't take long."
Something in Marcus's tone made Lein's chest tighten. But he nodded. He always nodded. That's what people like him did—the unevolved, the weak. They followed orders and stayed quiet.
He pulled on his worn boots and stepped outside.
The faction's settlement was already stirring.
Children ran between the wooden buildings, their laughter echoing off the crude walls. Farmers tended to small plots of mutated crops—vegetables that grew faster but tasted strange. A few evolved soldiers walked past in leather armor, swords and bows strapped to their backs. One carried an old rifle, though everyone knew bullets were nearly useless now. Too rare. Too weak against the monsters.
Lein followed Marcus and Verna through the settlement, past the central square where smoke rose from cooking fires. No one looked at him. No one ever did.
They passed through the outer gate—a patchwork of sharpened logs and scrap metal—and entered the forest.
The trees here were massive. Evolved. Their trunks were wide as houses, their leaves shimmering faintly with residual energy. The faction had cleared paths through the underbrush, cut back the more dangerous plants, and killed off many of the smaller monsters.
But not all of them.
Never all of them.
Lein's unease grew with every step. "Where are we going?"
"You'll see," Verna said without looking back.
Marcus walked ahead, silent. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword.
Lein's heartbeat quickened. He slowed his pace, suspicion coiling in his gut. "Marcus—"
They stopped.
Ahead of them, partially hidden by thick vines and shadow, was the mouth of a cave.
Lein froze. "What… what is this?"
Marcus turned to face him. His expression was blank. Empty. "We're sorry, Lein."
"What?"
Verna stepped forward. "The faction needs this. You understand, don't you? The spider queen has to be fed, or she'll attack again. We can't fight her yet. Not until she sleeps."
Lein stumbled backward. "No. No, you can't—"
Marcus moved fast. His evolved strength made it effortless. He grabbed Lein by the collar and hurled him toward the cave entrance.
Lein hit the ground hard, the air knocked from his lungs. He scrambled to his feet, but Marcus was already walking away.
"Wait!" Lein screamed. "Please! Don't do this!"
Verna glanced back once, her face unreadable. Then she turned and followed Marcus into the forest.
Lein ran after them, but his legs were too slow. Too weak. By the time he reached the edge of the trees, they were gone.
He stood there, chest heaving, staring at the empty path.
Then he heard it.
A soft chittering sound.
From deep inside the cave.
Lein turned slowly.
The darkness of the cave yawned before him like a mouth. He could smell it now—rot and something sour, something wrong.
He took a step back.
Then another.
His foot caught on a root, and he fell.
The chittering grew louder.
Lein scrambled to his feet and ran—not toward the forest, but sideways, along the cave's edge. Maybe there was another way. Maybe he could find cover, wait until nightfall, slip past—
Something skittered in the shadows.
Lein froze.
A spider emerged from the dark. It was the size of a large dog, its body covered in coarse black hair. Eight red eyes glinted in the dim light. Venom dripped from its fangs.
Lein's breath caught in his throat.
The spider lunged.
Lein ran.
He crashed through the underbrush, branches tearing at his skin. His lungs burned. His legs screamed. But he didn't stop.
Behind him, the clicking of legs on stone grew closer.
He spotted a fallen log, half-rotted and hollow. Without thinking, he dove inside, pressing himself against the damp wood. His heart hammered so hard he thought it might burst.
Silence.
He held his breath.
The clicking stopped.
For a moment, Lein thought he was safe. Maybe it had lost him. Maybe—
A leg pierced through the wood beside his head.
Lein screamed.
The spider tore through the log like paper. Its fangs flashed, and Lein felt a sharp, burning pain in his shoulder. He tried to pull away, but the spider was too fast, too strong.
It bit again.
And again.
Lein's vision blurred. His body went numb. The venom spread through his veins like ice.
He collapsed onto his back, staring up through the canopy at the pale morning sky.
The spider dragged him slowly back toward the cave.
Lein couldn't move.
He could only think.
Is this how it ends?
Flashes of memory flickered through his fading mind.
Hiding in his shack while evolved soldiers laughed outside. The way people looked through him, not at him. The gnawing fear that followed him every day—fear of monsters, fear of starvation, fear of being useless.
He had never done anything.
Never been anything.
Just… survived.
And even that, he'd failed at.
The sky above grew darker.
I hate this, he thought. I hate all of it.
Then there was nothing.