DAY TWO

  The dawn of the second day brought new horrors. The sky had turned a sickly yellow-green, and the air carried a metallic taste that coated the mouth and burned the lungs. The composition of the atmosphere was changing as Nibiru's influence grew stronger, making each breath more painful than the last.

  "Adapt or run with us from beyond the veil! There is honour in either choice!" Mar'Dun commanded his people.

  They pushed onward, now crossing a vast open plain where their speed could be maximized. The land itself had begun to show signs of the coming catastrophe. Fissures appeared without warning, venting superheated gases from deep within the Earth's crust. Entire sections of ground would suddenly subside, creating sinkholes that swallowed the unwary.

  Scouts returned with disturbing reports: human settlements ahead were in chaos. Their populations panicked as they witnessed the cosmic disturbances. Their governments mobilized military forces to maintain order, with religious zealots proclaiming the end times from whatever religions were built up from the remnants of the previous cycle. No matter the era, there was always a genesis and a revelation.

  "We must avoid human contact at all costs," Mar'Dun decided. "Their fear and ignorance makes them too unpredictable."

  Styx said nothing, his gaze distant as if listening to something beyond the range of even Drow senses. Without warning, he moved to Mar'Dun's side, speaking in tones too low for others to hear.

  "I must leave you temporarily."

  Mar'Dun's surprise was evident, though he controlled it quickly. "Now? When we are most vulnerable?"

  "Something has gone wrong. Elsewhere." Styx's expression revealed nothing, but the intensity of his gaze spoke volumes. "I would not leave if it were not critical."

  For a moment, Mar'Dun seemed about to argue, then nodded once. "Go, then. But return swiftly. We will need your strength before the end."

  Without another word, Styx peeled away. His form seemed to waver like heat rising from sun-baked stone, then dissolved into countless bat-like shadows that scattered in all directions before vanishing entirely.

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  He would not return.

  The Drow witnessed this departure with varying degrees of alarm. Styx's presence had been both practical protection and psychological reassurance. Without him, the already daunting journey seemed suddenly more desperate.

  "Forward!" Mar'Dun's command cut through the murmurs of concern. "True Lord Styx has his own battles to fight. Ours is here, now, with every step we take!"

  They surged forward again, but maintaining the sixty-mile-per-hour pace grew increasingly difficult. Fatigue had already set in deeply, and even the legendary stamina of the Drow elite was reaching its limits after nearly thirty hours of sustained, superhuman exertion.

  By midday, they encountered a new obstacle—a mountain range they had planned to circumnavigate now blocked all viable paths. Massive landslides had rendered the planned routes impassable.

  "The only way is through," Ronya observed grimly, pointing to a narrow pass that rose steeply between jagged peaks.

  "The elevation will slow us significantly," objected Lord Verin of House Nightshadow. "And the pass is barely wide enough for five abreast."

  "We have no choice," Mar'Dun decided. "Tighten formations. The strongest at the front to break trail."

  The ascent was brutal. The near-vertical climb while maintaining pace was punishment beyond measure. Muscles tore. Bones cracked. Every step demanded concentration that their exhausted minds struggled to provide.

  Some simply stopped and fell, their bodies refusing commands from their indomitable will. Some pressed themselves against the mountain face, gesturing for others to continue past them. None spoke of it, but all understood. They were choosing to remain behind to die on the mountain rather than slow the others.

  In a terrible calculus of survival, Mar'Dun did not order them to continue. Each person who fell behind increased the chances, however marginally, for the rest.

  The narrow pass eventually widened into a high plateau, allowing them to increase pace again. But the elevation had taken its toll.

  As night fell on the second day, Mar'Dun ordered the first and only extended rest of their journey—a full thirty minutes to tend to the worst injuries, distribute water, and allow the most exhausted a respite.

  "He isn't coming back, is he?" Ronya asked quietly as she joined Mar'Dun at the edge of the resting forces.

  Mar'Dun gazed at the disturbed sky, where auroras now rippled in unnatural patterns. "Styx follows his own path. Always has."

  "Can we survive without him?"

  The king's expression hardened. "We must."

  The rest period ended too quickly. Already, their pace had fallen behind the brutal schedule required to reach Makhonjwa before the worst of the inundation. Every minute spent recuperating meant potential deaths later, but without the break, they might not have continued at all.

  As they descended from the plateau on the mountain's far side, using Earth’s gravity to maximize their speed, word passed through the ranks that they would reach a major human city by dawn. There was no way around it. All alternate routes were blocked by weather anomalies or seismic activity.

  Mar'Dun gathered his commanders. "We will pass through as swiftly and quietly as possible. No engagement unless absolutely necessary."

  But as the first light of the third day revealed the human settlement sprawling across their path, they realized immediately that peaceful passage would be impossible.