The dying embers of a small campfire flickered in the dark forest, casting faint, wavering light against the trees. The warmth barely reached them, but it was enough to stir a dazed boy from his slumber.

  “You snored,” Cole said, jokingly.

  Jake’s brown eyes blinked sluggishly as he took in their surroundings. His gaze landed on the fire, then on Cole. “We survived?”

  Cole didn’t answer right away. His eyes remained fixed on the fire, the glow reflecting in his eyes. When he finally spoke, the lightness from before had vanished.

  “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Somehow.”

  Jake started to prop himself up, wincing slightly but managing. Cole watched him before exhaling sharply.

  “This is getting dangerous,” he admitted. “Do we keep going with this mission? We could try to find another way.”

  The flames crackled, their glow barely holding back the surrounding darkness.

  A short laugh escaped Jake’s lips, “I wish we could. But this could be part of the trial.”

  Cole parted his lips, searching for a counter-argument, but before he could speak, Jake beat him to it.

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” His gaze flickered to the bandages wrapped around Cole’s torso. “You should be worrying about yourself. How did you even make it out alive?”

  Cole leaned back slightly, exhaling. “I used essentia to recreate your rifle-spear,” he said. “The energy bullet took him down.”

  For a moment, Jake said nothing. Then, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he looked towards his weapon.

  “I see.”

  A brief silence settled between them—not tense, but filled with unspoken understanding. They had faced death and survived, but their trial was far from over. Still, for this fleeting moment, they would allow themselves to rest.

  “I’m going to the creek to clean my wound,” Jake said, rising to his feet with a hand pressed to his side. “I’ve rested enough. It’s your turn.”

  Cole considered arguing, insisting Jake take a little more time to recover. But denying the truth wouldn’t change it—he was exhausted, both mentally and physically.

  With a quiet sigh, he laid back against the ground, using his pack as a makeshift pillow. His gaze lifted to the vast night sky, the stars distant and unwavering in their watchful glow.

  Yet something was missing.

  Normally, in Vahnor—their home planet—he would have felt something near the stars, an unseen presence lingering just out of reach—supposedly paradise, where the Gods resided. But here, in this strange place, he could not feel anything near the stars but something beyond them. Something watching over everything.

  That thought lingered as sleep claimed him.

  ***

  Once again, Cole stood on that endless shore, the soft roar of the waves filling the silence. The sky above stretched vast and only slightly blue, as if it fully lacked colour. The sand beneath his feet was cool, damp with the lingering touch of the tide.

  In the distance, the black, eyeless figure sat cross-legged, facing the horizon. Its posture was eerily human, yet something about it felt fundamentally wrong—like an imitation of life. The entity did not move, did not acknowledge his presence. It simply sat there, watching the relentless waves with quiet intent.

  Cole hesitated before stepping forward, his boots sinking slightly into the wet sand. Each step was slow and cautious.

  The question left his lips before he could stop himself.

  "Just who are you?"

  As expected, there was no answer.

  The entity remained still, its faceless head tilted ever so slightly, as if listening. But there was no reaction.

  Cole exhaled sharply, shaking his head. ‘What did I expect?’

  Saying nothing more, he sat beside it, mirroring its posture, his legs crossed and hands sinking into the grains of sand. It was fine and smooth, yet patches of rough, jagged fragments pricked his fingertips. The contradiction unsettled him.

  He turned his gaze toward the waves, watching them crash and retreat in an endless cycle. Something about the motion was hypnotic—comforting, even.

  Yet beneath the surface, an unease coiled deep within his chest, a sensation just out of reach.

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  Despite this, he didn’t move.

  Instead, he sat with the entity in silence, both of them watching the water.

  The thought settled in his mind with a strange certainty—’This is where my dreamscape trial will begin.’

  It made sense.

  This was the place his brother had died.

  His fingers curled slightly, pressing into the sand as that memory threatened to surface. The sound of the waves continued, uncaring.

  Cole swallowed, shifting his focus back to the figure beside him.

  ‘Would I eventually have to fight you?’

  The thought lingered, but there was no answer.

  He had grown accustomed to the silence.

  Then, the entity moved.

  A slow, unnatural tilt of its head—before its body shifted, leaning towards him.

  Cole stiffened.

  Something was different this time.

  He had seen it in the distance before. Stood next to it. Now even sat beside it. But never had it done this.

  And then, it spoke.

  A voice, distorted and hollow, like a sound being dragged through water.

  "Belong? You. Don’t."

  A chill clawed up Cole’s spine. His breath paused as his head snapped toward the entity.

  It was right there.

  Closer than before.

  Its melted, shapeless face hovered inches from his own, its presence suffocating. The black void where eyes should have been stared through him, into him.

  Then, its mouth began to open.

  A slow, wet stretch—like tar being pulled apart.

  "Don’t. You. Belong?"

  Cole felt his body react before his mind did—he recoiled, pushing himself backward across the sand. His pulse pounded against his ribs, breath uneven.

  What did that mean?

  His hands clenched against the ground as he forced himself to meet its gaze, trying to steady his racing thoughts. But the entity didn’t move any further. It simply raised a hand—long, slender fingers that bent at unnatural angles—and pointed behind him.

  Cole hesitated. Every instinct screamed at him to keep his eyes locked on the entity. To never turn his back to it.

  But something was out there.

  He could feel it.

  Slowly, warily, he turned his head.

  At first, there was nothing but the vast expanse of sand stretching toward the horizon. The ocean, endless and uncaring. The sky, deprived of warmth.

  Then, he saw it.

  A shape in the distance.

  No—shapes.

  His heartbeat increased as his vision adjusted, and realization set in.

  The bodies.

  The piled bodies from before.

  They were no longer still.

  They were moving.

  Slow, jerking steps, their limbs stiff and unnatural. Dragging themselves forward, heads lolling, vacant eyes locked onto some unseen destination.

  The figures moved in unison, staggering forward through the sand. No sound came from them—no moans, no cries, no breath. Only the shifting of feet against the grains, the faint scrape of dragging limbs.

  They marched toward something unseen.

  And then, with dawning horror, Cole realized.

  They were walking toward him.

  ***

  He woke to the sound of boots grinding against the dirt. His eyes fluttered open to see Jake stomping out the last of the embers, his expression unreadable in the dim light. The fire had left wisps of smoke curling into the crisp morning air.

  Cole pushed himself up, wincing as the movement tugged at his poorly wrapped injuries. The pain had slightly dulled overnight, settling into an uncomfortable ache. He glanced at Jake, who was testing his own movement, rolling his shoulders as if trying to gauge how much strain his body could handle.

  “We should move,” Jake said. “The longer we stay here, the more likely something finds us first.”

  Cole nodded. They had already rested longer than they should have. Every hour spent idle increased the risk of discovery, and after everything they had barely survived the previous day, neither of them wanted to push their luck.

  They set off, heading deeper into the Ironwood. The deeper they went, the thicker the fog became, weaving through the undergrowth in ghostly tendrils. The air grew colder, carrying with it an eerie stillness.

  For hours, they pressed forward. Despite their wounds, they moved at a steady pace, keeping their senses sharp. Cole's grip tightened around his compass, the worn metal warm against his palm.

  Nothing had attacked them. No threats had emerged from the shadows. It should have been comforting, but instead, the silence felt unnatural. As if something was waiting.

  Then, the compass spoke.

  A voice crackled through the device, distorted and uneven, like someone trying to talk through a failing radio.

  “Turn back.”

  Cole stopped mid-step, his breath paused. Jake shot him a confused glance, but Cole wasn’t looking at him—his eyes were locked onto the compass, fingers tightening around it.

  The voice came again, urgent, fraying at the edges with something close to desperation.

  “Turn back. Run. He is coming.”

  A chill ran down Cole’s spine. The voice belonged to the faction leader—the same man who had sent them on this mission.

  Cole exchanged a look with Jake, whose expression had turned rigid, all traces of exhaustion gone.

  Then they heard it.

  In the distance, something shifted. The sound wasn’t immediate, wasn’t close—but it was there. Birds took flight from the trees, their cries sharp and panicked as they scattered in every direction.

  Something was moving through the Ironwood.

  And it was coming for them.