The road stretched farther than Lin Shen could see.
Thousands walked beneath a sky that had forgotten the sun. Families carried what little they owned. Blankets. Pots. Children too young to understand why they could never go home again.
No one spoke.
Only footsteps echoed through the valley.
Every few moments someone glanced over their shoulder.
The mountain still stood on the horizon.
Silent.
Whole.
As though it had never split apart.
Only Lin Shen knew the truth.
Beneath that stone slept something that would one day swallow the world.
He tightened his grip around his spear and continued walking.
Grandmother Yue led the procession at the front. Though blind, she never stumbled. Her staff tapped against the earth with steady rhythm, each strike calming the frightened minds connected to the village's psychic network.
The children had finally stopped crying.
Even fear became exhausting after enough hours.
A cold breeze swept across the valley.
