They laid flat against the damp grass, watching the fortress from the cover of the trees. Guards patrolled in strict intervals—predictable, but not careless. The main gates were too well-guarded, and the walls were too high for a direct climb. A different way in was needed.

  "You see that cart?" Jake asked Cole, nudging his arm slightly.

  Cole drifted his head to the right, seeing a wooden wagon in the distance approaching the fortress. He turned his gaze to where Jake pointed. A wooden wagon was slowly making its way toward the fortress, pulled by two tired horses along the creek. The sound of the cart’s wheels dragging against the floor echoed faintly in the still night air. It was an opportunity. A cover to slip inside unnoticed.

  "We get in with them."

  Cole considered it for a moment. The plan was risky—but it was the best chance they would get as of now. "Alright. Let’s move."

  With practiced silence, they crept from the trees, making their way toward the cart. They stayed low, pressing their bodies into the shadows, careful not to make a sound. The guard at the gate was too busy checking the contents of other carts to notice them slipping underneath the wagon. Cole held his breath as he gripped onto the wooden frames, keeping his body glued underneath as he tried to be as still as possible.

  The cart moved forward as the gates groaned open. They were now inside.

  Cole and Jake waited until the cart came to a stop in a quiet, secluded area of the fortress. The walls of the fortress loomed over them, casting long shadows on the stone floor. It was eerily quiet, except for the occasional shuffle of footsteps. But something about the place felt... wrong. Like a coldness that seeped into the very walls.

  They slid out from behind the crates, moving silently into the shadows of the nearby building. Cole’s heart pounded in his chest as he scanned the area. There were no other sounds of activity. No voices, no chatter. Just the faint echoes of footsteps and the strange, almost unsettling stillness that clung to the air.

  “Something’s off,” Jake muttered, his eyes scanning their surroundings.

  Cole nodded, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The fortress was too quiet. It was as if the whole place was holding its breath.

  They moved deeper into the fortress, hugging the shadows. They passed by storage rooms with doors slightly open, crates left half-open, and supplies scattered as if abandoned in haste. A faint metallic scent lingered in the air—blood, faint but unmistakable.

  Turning down another corridor, they found signs of struggle: dark stains smeared across the stone floor. Cole’s stomach tightened. Something had happened here—something violent.

  Jake crouched beside the marks, running his fingers over the dried blood. "This isn’t fresh. Maybe a day or two old. But there’s no bodies."

  "Or someone cleaned up," Cole replied grimly.

  They continued, each step heavier than the last. They avoided the main courtyards, weaving through side alleys and narrow passages. At one point, they narrowly escaped detection when a lone guard appeared, his movements jerky and unnatural. The man’s eyes were hollow, his skin pale under the torchlight, and his footsteps echoed too loudly.

  They ducked behind a stack of barrels, holding their breath as the guard passed. When the coast was clear, Jake whispered, "Did you see his eyes? He wasn’t... right."

  Cole didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. They both felt it—this place was wrong.

  After what felt like hours, they finally reached an inner courtyard. Here, the silence was deafening. They rounded a corner, ducking behind a stone pillar, when a figure stepped out from the darkness ahead. Cole froze, his pulse quickening. But the figure was familiar. It was Bea.

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  Before Jake could even utter a word of surprise, Bea’s hand shot out, covering his mouth. Her grip was tight, desperate, as her black eyes darted nervously across the shadows.

  Cole’s concern deepened. He glanced at Bea, noticing how pale her face had become, almost as if she hadn't seen the sun in days. Her hair was a tangled mess, and her clothes were torn, yet there was something unsettlingly sharp in her eyes, an alertness that contrasted with her disheveled appearance.

  Bea didn’t say a word. Instead, she slowly crouched to the ground, reaching into her bag and pulling out a small, worn diary. She flipped through the pages with shaky hands, ripping out a piece of paper. Her movements were slow but deliberate as she placed it on the cold stone floor between them.

  Cole watched as Bea’s hand hovered over the paper, and then she began to write, her handwriting shaky but legible.

  “What are you guys doing here?”

  Cole picked up the pen she passed him and began to write his reply.

  “Sent to gather information. We are in The Convergence War.”

  She nodded, her eyes flickering with something that was close to shock. Her hand trembled as she scrawled more words on the paper.

  “Alright, we need to get out of here.”

  Cole frowned, still unsure. “Why?” he wrote.

  She hesitated, biting her lip as she scribbled her next sentence. Her words came out even more hurried now, as if the weight of what she was about to say was unbearable.

  “We’re trapped.”

  The words hit Cole like a punch to the gut. ‘Trapped?’ He glanced at Jake, who looked confused, trying to process it all. Bea’s expression was a mixture of determination and dread.

  “This place…” Bea wrote, her pen almost shaking in her grasp.

  Cole leaned in closer, his brow furrowing as he watched her write the next line.

  “It’s all a trap.”

  Jake let out a low breath, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting something to come out of the shadows at any moment.

  Bea's hands trembled as she continued to write.”We need to leave before he finds us. Everyone here…” she paused for a moment, looking as though she wanted to stop, but then wrote the words that made Cole’s blood run cold.

  “They’re all dead.”

  The words stared up at him from the paper, and for a moment, Cole couldn’t move. His mind raced. ‘All dead? Was that guard from before also…?’

  They had to get out of here.

  Before he could think of anything else, the air seemed to grow still, the tension thickening. Bea’s eyes flickered toward the top of the wall, her face paling even further.

  Cole froze. The heavy voice, loud and chilling, echoed down from the walls above, like the very stones were speaking.

  "Welcome!"

  The words echoed, fracturing the fragile silence. A chill snaked down Cole’s spine.

  They’d been found.

  Bea’s face darkened, her voice a whisper. “It’s too late.”

  Cole’s jaw clenched, his mind in disbelief. ‘It can’t be… What was all that running for then?’

  All of it—the journey, the sneaking, the fragile hope that they had went unnoticed—it had been part of an illusion they created to comfort themselves. They weren’t no escape artists. They’d been the prey from the very start.

  ‘It was too easy sneaking in.’ Cole realized bitterly. They hadn’t outsmarted anyone. They had just walked straight into death’s open arms.

  ‘What a cruel joke.’

  The eccentric voice echoed again, sharper this time, sending a chill down their spines. Then came the screams—raw, guttural, and deafening. The guards, once silent and hollow, now roared like wild beasts, their cries filling the fortress.

  From every shadow, they came—dozens of them, their faces twisted with rage, eyes glowing with something not human. The ground seemed to shake with the force of their charge.

  "Welcome to Fort Blackridge!”

  The words weren’t just spoken—they were carved into the air, heavy and final, drowning in the sea of screams. It didn’t sound like a greeting. It sounded like a verdict.

  And their sentence was death.