the end of the word

Chapter 3: Into the Wildlands

The boundary of the settlement wasn't marked by walls or gates. It was marked by silence.

Victor Hollow stood at its edge, his breath fogging the cold, ash-thick air. Behind him, the noise of life still echoed — the clang of metal, the crackle of fire, and the quiet, murmured arguments of survivors trying to live another day. Ahead of him, however, was nothing but the vast emptiness of the wildlands.

No voices. No footsteps. Just the hollow, whistling wind weaving through dead trees and crumbling spires of ancient ruins. It was the kind of quiet that made you feel like you'd already been forgotten.

"Last chance to change your mind, Hollow."

Victor glanced back at Callen, who crouched on a nearby rock, chewing on a dried root like it was a feast. His eyes, sharp and watchful as ever, flicked between Victor and the vast unknown. "East ain't friendly, you know that. You walk in, something's gonna be waiting for you."

"I know," Victor said, tightening the straps on his satchel. Inside were three flare-stones, a jar of water, and scraps of dried meat wrapped in cloth. Not much, but better than nothing. His blade hung loosely at his side, the worn leather grip familiar in his palm. "I'm still going."

Callen raised an eyebrow. "For a light in the sky, huh?"

Victor didn't answer right away. He looked eastward, where the Starlight still hovered in the distance, steady as a heartbeat. It hadn't moved since last night, but it didn't have to. It had been waiting for him.

"Yeah," Victor said finally. "For a light in the sky."

Callen grinned, sharp and wolfish. "You're a fool, Hollow."

"I know."

There was a pause. Callen spat out the root, wiped his hands, and stood. "Fools die alone. Guess I'm coming with you."

Victor tilted his head. "You sure?"

"Not really," Callen muttered, brushing ash off his jacket. "But somebody's gotta write your obituary." He adjusted the rusted hunting knife on his belt, his grin fading to something more serious. "Let's go before I think too hard about it."

Victor gave him a nod, and together, they stepped into the wildlands.

The first few miles were easy. Too easy.

They moved cautiously, feet crunching over brittle stone and patches of hardened ash. Blackened trees reached for the sky like skeletal hands, their twisted limbs creaking softly with every breeze. The air smelled like burnt copper and rotting leaves.

Callen walked behind Victor, eyes darting to every shadow. "No Zhorul yet," he muttered. "That's not good."

"Rather have none than too many," Victor replied, though he didn't believe his own words.

Callen snorted. "Nah, man. None means something else is hunting them."

Victor glanced back, brow furrowed. "Like what?"

Callen didn't answer. He just kept scanning the shadows.

They passed an old ruin — a collapsed tower of green-black stone. Its top half had crumbled to the ground, leaving jagged pieces jutting up like broken ribs. Strange symbols were etched along its surface, worn by time but still faintly visible. Callen ran a hand over them as they walked by.

"Never seen these before," Callen muttered, tracing a spiral mark with his finger. "Think it's Zhorul writing?"

"Maybe," Victor replied, but deep down, he didn't think so. Zhorul didn't write. They didn't need to.

The symbols pulsed in his memory long after they'd moved on.

Hours passed. They saw no Zhorul, no other survivors, and no signs of life. Just twisted spires, jagged cliffs, and craters filled with dark, oily water. The only sound was the wind and the crunch of their footsteps.

"You feel that?" Callen asked suddenly, stopping mid-step.

Victor slowed. "Feel what?"

Callen's head swiveled, his eyes narrowing. "Like we're being watched."

Victor's grip on his blade tightened. He didn't see anything, but he'd learned long ago that Zhorul weren't always seen before they struck. He scanned the crags ahead and the broken ruins to the side, his heart picking up speed. His ears strained for sounds beyond the wind.

Nothing.

"Keep moving," Victor muttered. "If it's watching, it's waiting."

Callen hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

But they both knew it wasn't gone. It never left once it started watching.

By dusk, the Starlight grew brighter.

"It's getting lower," Victor said, eyes fixed on the glow ahead. It was closer than it had been that morning, and for the first time, he thought he could see something within it. Not just light, but movement. Flickers of shapes like shifting glass.

"Don't like that," Callen muttered, pulling his jacket tighter against the cold. His breath fogged in front of him. "Stuff falling from the sky never means anything good. Remember the Fire Rain from the south? Burned a whole settlement to ash."

"This isn't Fire Rain," Victor said. "It's… something else."

Callen grumbled, "Yeah, well, something else can still kill us."

They found shelter in a hollowed-out ruin with half a roof intact. The wind howled louder now, carrying with it the faint, distant sound of something that might have been a Zhorul's call. Low. Resonant. Too far away to be a threat, but close enough to make them sit with their backs to the wall.

Victor pulled out the jar of water and took a small sip, letting it sit in his mouth before swallowing. Callen didn't ask for any. He just sat with his knees up, knife balanced on his leg, watching the entrance of the ruin like it might bite him.

"Gonna be like this the whole way, huh?" Callen muttered.

"Probably," Victor said.

Callen sighed, tapping the knife's hilt. "You better be worth all this trouble, Hollow."

The next morning, they woke to claw marks.

Deep gouges lined the stone just outside the ruin, long parallel streaks like someone had dragged a rake across it.

Callen ran a finger over one of the marks, his face grim. "That wasn't here when we got in."

"No," Victor agreed, eyes scanning the gray fog beyond the ruin's entrance. "It wasn't."

"You hear anything last night?" Callen asked, checking the edge of his knife.

"Nothing," Victor replied. "You?"

Callen shook his head.

They stood in silence for a moment, eyes on the claw marks. Five claws. Deep. Precise. Not like a Zhorul's usual erratic strikes. This was different. Calculated.

"Tracks head east," Callen muttered, glancing at the faint prints leading away from the ruin. Each one was heavy, with toes spread wide, like something walking on all fours.

"Looks like it's following the Starlight," Victor said.

Callen blinked. "You think it's chasing it too?"

"Don't know," Victor replied, his gaze still locked on the tracks. "But I think it knows where we're going."

"Great," Callen muttered. "Love being hunted by something smarter than me."

Victor crouched by the claw marks, his fingers brushing the cold stone. The grooves were sharp. Fresh. As if the thing that made them had been watching them sleep, waiting just outside.

"Next time, we take turns watching," Victor said.

Callen gave him a look. "Next time, I'm sleeping in a tree."

Victor didn't argue.

The Starlight pulsed once, like a slow heartbeat. Both of them saw it.

"Did it just get brighter?" Callen asked, shielding his eyes from the glow.

"Yeah," Victor said, squinting against the light. It wasn't like before. The glow was warmer now, less like a star and more like a flame. It flickered, flashed, then held steady again, as if calling them forward.

"Feels like it's getting louder too," Callen muttered, rubbing his temples. "Not in my ears, though. In my head."

Victor glanced at him. "You hear it too?"

Callen nodded, frowning. "Like someone humming."

Follow the light.

The words echoed in Victor's mind. He'd heard them before. Back in his dream.

They walked east, the glow of the Starlight leading them onward. They didn't look back. Neither of them wanted to see if something was following.

Chapter 3: Into the Wildlands

The boundary of the settlement wasn't marked by walls or gates. It was marked by silence.

Victor Hollow stood at its edge, his breath fogging the cold, ash-thick air. Behind him, the noise of life still echoed — the clang of metal, the crackle of fire, and the quiet, murmured arguments of survivors trying to live another day. Ahead of him, however, was nothing but the vast emptiness of the wildlands.

No voices. No footsteps. Just the hollow, whistling wind weaving through dead trees and crumbling spires of ancient ruins. It was the kind of quiet that made you feel like you'd already been forgotten.

"Last chance to change your mind, Hollow."

Victor glanced back at Callen, who crouched on a nearby rock, chewing on a dried root like it was a feast. His eyes, sharp and watchful as ever, flicked between Victor and the vast unknown. "East ain't friendly, you know that. You walk in, something's gonna be waiting for you."

"I know," Victor said, tightening the straps on his satchel. Inside were three flare-stones, a jar of water, and scraps of dried meat wrapped in cloth. Not much, but better than nothing. His blade hung loosely at his side, the worn leather grip familiar in his palm. "I'm still going."

Callen raised an eyebrow. "For a light in the sky, huh?"

Victor didn't answer right away. He looked eastward, where the Starlight still hovered in the distance, steady as a heartbeat. It hadn't moved since last night, but it didn't have to. It had been waiting for him.

"Yeah," Victor said finally. "For a light in the sky."

Callen grinned, sharp and wolfish. "You're a fool, Hollow."

"I know."

There was a pause. Callen spat out the root, wiped his hands, and stood. "Fools die alone. Guess I'm coming with you."

Victor tilted his head. "You sure?"

"Not really," Callen muttered, brushing ash off his jacket. "But somebody's gotta write your obituary." He adjusted the rusted hunting knife on his belt, his grin fading to something more serious. "Let's go before I think too hard about it."

Victor gave him a nod, and together, they stepped into the wildlands.

The first few miles were easy. Too easy.

They moved cautiously, feet crunching over brittle stone and patches of hardened ash. Blackened trees reached for the sky like skeletal hands, their twisted limbs creaking softly with every breeze. The air smelled like burnt copper and rotting leaves.

Callen walked behind Victor, eyes darting to every shadow. "No Zhorul yet," he muttered. "That's not good."

"Rather have none than too many," Victor replied, though he didn't believe his own words.

Callen snorted. "Nah, man. None means something else is hunting them."

Victor glanced back, brow furrowed. "Like what?"

Callen didn't answer. He just kept scanning the shadows.

They passed an old ruin — a collapsed tower of green-black stone. Its top half had crumbled to the ground, leaving jagged pieces jutting up like broken ribs. Strange symbols were etched along its surface, worn by time but still faintly visible. Callen ran a hand over them as they walked by.

"Never seen these before," Callen muttered, tracing a spiral mark with his finger. "Think it's Zhorul writing?"

"Maybe," Victor replied, but deep down, he didn't think so. Zhorul didn't write. They didn't need to.

The symbols pulsed in his memory long after they'd moved on.

Hours passed. They saw no Zhorul, no other survivors, and no signs of life. Just twisted spires, jagged cliffs, and craters filled with dark, oily water. The only sound was the wind and the crunch of their footsteps.

"You feel that?" Callen asked suddenly, stopping mid-step.

Victor slowed. "Feel what?"

Callen's head swiveled, his eyes narrowing. "Like we're being watched."

Victor's grip on his blade tightened. He didn't see anything, but he'd learned long ago that Zhorul weren't always seen before they struck. He scanned the crags ahead and the broken ruins to the side, his heart picking up speed. His ears strained for sounds beyond the wind.

Nothing.

"Keep moving," Victor muttered. "If it's watching, it's waiting."

Callen hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

But they both knew it wasn't gone. It never left once it started watching.

By dusk, the Starlight grew brighter.

"It's getting lower," Victor said, eyes fixed on the glow ahead. It was closer than it had been that morning, and for the first time, he thought he could see something within it. Not just light, but movement. Flickers of shapes like shifting glass.

"Don't like that," Callen muttered, pulling his jacket tighter against the cold. His breath fogged in front of him. "Stuff falling from the sky never means anything good. Remember the Fire Rain from the south? Burned a whole settlement to ash."

"This isn't Fire Rain," Victor said. "It's… something else."

Callen grumbled, "Yeah, well, something else can still kill us."

They found shelter in a hollowed-out ruin with half a roof intact. The wind howled louder now, carrying with it the faint, distant sound of something that might have been a Zhorul's call. Low. Resonant. Too far away to be a threat, but close enough to make them sit with their backs to the wall.

Victor pulled out the jar of water and took a small sip, letting it sit in his mouth before swallowing. Callen didn't ask for any. He just sat with his knees up, knife balanced on his leg, watching the entrance of the ruin like it might bite him.

"Gonna be like this the whole way, huh?" Callen muttered.

"Probably," Victor said.

Callen sighed, tapping the knife's hilt. "You better be worth all this trouble, Hollow."

The next morning, they woke to claw marks.

Deep gouges lined the stone just outside the ruin, long parallel streaks like someone had dragged a rake across it.

Callen ran a finger over one of the marks, his face grim. "That wasn't here when we got in."

"No," Victor agreed, eyes scanning the gray fog beyond the ruin's entrance. "It wasn't."

"You hear anything last night?" Callen asked, checking the edge of his knife.

"Nothing," Victor replied. "You?"

Callen shook his head.

They stood in silence for a moment, eyes on the claw marks. Five claws. Deep. Precise. Not like a Zhorul's usual erratic strikes. This was different. Calculated.

"Tracks head east," Callen muttered, glancing at the faint prints leading away from the ruin. Each one was heavy, with toes spread wide, like something walking on all fours.

"Looks like it's following the Starlight," Victor said.

Callen blinked. "You think it's chasing it too?"

"Don't know," Victor replied, his gaze still locked on the tracks. "But I think it knows where we're going."

"Great," Callen muttered. "Love being hunted by something smarter than me."

Victor crouched by the claw marks, his fingers brushing the cold stone. The grooves were sharp. Fresh. As if the thing that made them had been watching them sleep, waiting just outside.

"Next time, we take turns watching," Victor said.

Callen gave him a look. "Next time, I'm sleeping in a tree."

Victor didn't argue.

The Starlight pulsed once, like a slow heartbeat. Both of them saw it.

"Did it just get brighter?" Callen asked, shielding his eyes from the glow.

"Yeah," Victor said, squinting against the light. It wasn't like before. The glow was warmer now, less like a star and more like a flame. It flickered, flashed, then held steady again, as if calling them forward.

"Feels like it's getting louder too," Callen muttered, rubbing his temples. "Not in my ears, though. In my head."

Victor glanced at him. "You hear it too?"

Callen nodded, frowning. "Like someone humming."

Follow the light.

The words echoed in Victor's mind. He'd heard them before. Back in his dream.

They walked east, the glow of the Starlight leading them onward. They didn't look back. Neither of them wanted to see if something was following.

Chapter 3: Into the Wildlands

The boundary of the settlement wasn't marked by walls or gates. It was marked by silence.

Victor Hollow stood at its edge, his breath fogging the cold, ash-thick air. Behind him, the noise of life still echoed — the clang of metal, the crackle of fire, and the quiet, murmured arguments of survivors trying to live another day. Ahead of him, however, was nothing but the vast emptiness of the wildlands.

No voices. No footsteps. Just the hollow, whistling wind weaving through dead trees and crumbling spires of ancient ruins. It was the kind of quiet that made you feel like you'd already been forgotten.

"Last chance to change your mind, Hollow."

Victor glanced back at Callen, who crouched on a nearby rock, chewing on a dried root like it was a feast. His eyes, sharp and watchful as ever, flicked between Victor and the vast unknown. "East ain't friendly, you know that. You walk in, something's gonna be waiting for you."

"I know," Victor said, tightening the straps on his satchel. Inside were three flare-stones, a jar of water, and scraps of dried meat wrapped in cloth. Not much, but better than nothing. His blade hung loosely at his side, the worn leather grip familiar in his palm. "I'm still going."

Callen raised an eyebrow. "For a light in the sky, huh?"

Victor didn't answer right away. He looked eastward, where the Starlight still hovered in the distance, steady as a heartbeat. It hadn't moved since last night, but it didn't have to. It had been waiting for him.

"Yeah," Victor said finally. "For a light in the sky."

Callen grinned, sharp and wolfish. "You're a fool, Hollow."

"I know."

There was a pause. Callen spat out the root, wiped his hands, and stood. "Fools die alone. Guess I'm coming with you."

Victor tilted his head. "You sure?"

"Not really," Callen muttered, brushing ash off his jacket. "But somebody's gotta write your obituary." He adjusted the rusted hunting knife on his belt, his grin fading to something more serious. "Let's go before I think too hard about it."

Victor gave him a nod, and together, they stepped into the wildlands.

The first few miles were easy. Too easy.

They moved cautiously, feet crunching over brittle stone and patches of hardened ash. Blackened trees reached for the sky like skeletal hands, their twisted limbs creaking softly with every breeze. The air smelled like burnt copper and rotting leaves.

Callen walked behind Victor, eyes darting to every shadow. "No Zhorul yet," he muttered. "That's not good."

"Rather have none than too many," Victor replied, though he didn't believe his own words.

Callen snorted. "Nah, man. None means something else is hunting them."

Victor glanced back, brow furrowed. "Like what?"

Callen didn't answer. He just kept scanning the shadows.

They passed an old ruin — a collapsed tower of green-black stone. Its top half had crumbled to the ground, leaving jagged pieces jutting up like broken ribs. Strange symbols were etched along its surface, worn by time but still faintly visible. Callen ran a hand over them as they walked by.

"Never seen these before," Callen muttered, tracing a spiral mark with his finger. "Think it's Zhorul writing?"

"Maybe," Victor replied, but deep down, he didn't think so. Zhorul didn't write. They didn't need to.

The symbols pulsed in his memory long after they'd moved on.

Hours passed. They saw no Zhorul, no other survivors, and no signs of life. Just twisted spires, jagged cliffs, and craters filled with dark, oily water. The only sound was the wind and the crunch of their footsteps.

"You feel that?" Callen asked suddenly, stopping mid-step.

Victor slowed. "Feel what?"

Callen's head swiveled, his eyes narrowing. "Like we're being watched."

Victor's grip on his blade tightened. He didn't see anything, but he'd learned long ago that Zhorul weren't always seen before they struck. He scanned the crags ahead and the broken ruins to the side, his heart picking up speed. His ears strained for sounds beyond the wind.

Nothing.

"Keep moving," Victor muttered. "If it's watching, it's waiting."

Callen hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

But they both knew it wasn't gone. It never left once it started watching.

By dusk, the Starlight grew brighter.

"It's getting lower," Victor said, eyes fixed on the glow ahead. It was closer than it had been that morning, and for the first time, he thought he could see something within it. Not just light, but movement. Flickers of shapes like shifting glass.

"Don't like that," Callen muttered, pulling his jacket tighter against the cold. His breath fogged in front of him. "Stuff falling from the sky never means anything good. Remember the Fire Rain from the south? Burned a whole settlement to ash."

"This isn't Fire Rain," Victor said. "It's… something else."

Callen grumbled, "Yeah, well, something else can still kill us."

They found shelter in a hollowed-out ruin with half a roof intact. The wind howled louder now, carrying with it the faint, distant sound of something that might have been a Zhorul's call. Low. Resonant. Too far away to be a threat, but close enough to make them sit with their backs to the wall.

Victor pulled out the jar of water and took a small sip, letting it sit in his mouth before swallowing. Callen didn't ask for any. He just sat with his knees up, knife balanced on his leg, watching the entrance of the ruin like it might bite him.

"Gonna be like this the whole way, huh?" Callen muttered.

"Probably," Victor said.

Callen sighed, tapping the knife's hilt. "You better be worth all this trouble, Hollow."

The next morning, they woke to claw marks.

Deep gouges lined the stone just outside the ruin, long parallel streaks like someone had dragged a rake across it.

Callen ran a finger over one of the marks, his face grim. "That wasn't here when we got in."

"No," Victor agreed, eyes scanning the gray fog beyond the ruin's entrance. "It wasn't."

"You hear anything last night?" Callen asked, checking the edge of his knife.

"Nothing," Victor replied. "You?"

Callen shook his head.

They stood in silence for a moment, eyes on the claw marks. Five claws. Deep. Precise. Not like a Zhorul's usual erratic strikes. This was different. Calculated.

"Tracks head east," Callen muttered, glancing at the faint prints leading away from the ruin. Each one was heavy, with toes spread wide, like something walking on all fours.

"Looks like it's following the Starlight," Victor said.

Callen blinked. "You think it's chasing it too?"

"Don't know," Victor replied, his gaze still locked on the tracks. "But I think it knows where we're going."

"Great," Callen muttered. "Love being hunted by something smarter than me."

Victor crouched by the claw marks, his fingers brushing the cold stone. The grooves were sharp. Fresh. As if the thing that made them had been watching them sleep, waiting just outside.

"Next time, we take turns watching," Victor said.

Callen gave him a look. "Next time, I'm sleeping in a tree."

Victor didn't argue.

The Starlight pulsed once, like a slow heartbeat. Both of them saw it.

"Did it just get brighter?" Callen asked, shielding his eyes from the glow.

"Yeah," Victor said, squinting against the light. It wasn't like before. The glow was warmer now, less like a star and more like a flame. It flickered, flashed, then held steady again, as if calling them forward.

"Feels like it's getting louder too," Callen muttered, rubbing his temples. "Not in my ears, though. In my head."

Victor glanced at him. "You hear it too?"

Callen nodded, frowning. "Like someone humming."

Follow the light.

The words echoed in Victor's mind. He'd heard them before. Back in his dream.

They walked east, the glow of the Starlight leading them onward. They didn't look back. Neither of them wanted to see if something was following.

Chapter 3: Into the Wildlands

The boundary of the settlement wasn't marked by walls or gates. It was marked by silence.

Victor Hollow stood at its edge, his breath fogging the cold, ash-thick air. Behind him, the noise of life still echoed — the clang of metal, the crackle of fire, and the quiet, murmured arguments of survivors trying to live another day. Ahead of him, however, was nothing but the vast emptiness of the wildlands.

No voices. No footsteps. Just the hollow, whistling wind weaving through dead trees and crumbling spires of ancient ruins. It was the kind of quiet that made you feel like you'd already been forgotten.

"Last chance to change your mind, Hollow."

Victor glanced back at Callen, who crouched on a nearby rock, chewing on a dried root like it was a feast. His eyes, sharp and watchful as ever, flicked between Victor and the vast unknown. "East ain't friendly, you know that. You walk in, something's gonna be waiting for you."

"I know," Victor said, tightening the straps on his satchel. Inside were three flare-stones, a jar of water, and scraps of dried meat wrapped in cloth. Not much, but better than nothing. His blade hung loosely at his side, the worn leather grip familiar in his palm. "I'm still going."

Callen raised an eyebrow. "For a light in the sky, huh?"

Victor didn't answer right away. He looked eastward, where the Starlight still hovered in the distance, steady as a heartbeat. It hadn't moved since last night, but it didn't have to. It had been waiting for him.

"Yeah," Victor said finally. "For a light in the sky."

Callen grinned, sharp and wolfish. "You're a fool, Hollow."

"I know."

There was a pause. Callen spat out the root, wiped his hands, and stood. "Fools die alone. Guess I'm coming with you."

Victor tilted his head. "You sure?"

"Not really," Callen muttered, brushing ash off his jacket. "But somebody's gotta write your obituary." He adjusted the rusted hunting knife on his belt, his grin fading to something more serious. "Let's go before I think too hard about it."

Victor gave him a nod, and together, they stepped into the wildlands.

The first few miles were easy. Too easy.

They moved cautiously, feet crunching over brittle stone and patches of hardened ash. Blackened trees reached for the sky like skeletal hands, their twisted limbs creaking softly with every breeze. The air smelled like burnt copper and rotting leaves.

Callen walked behind Victor, eyes darting to every shadow. "No Zhorul yet," he muttered. "That's not good."

"Rather have none than too many," Victor replied, though he didn't believe his own words.

Callen snorted. "Nah, man. None means something else is hunting them."

Victor glanced back, brow furrowed. "Like what?"

Callen didn't answer. He just kept scanning the shadows.

They passed an old ruin — a collapsed tower of green-black stone. Its top half had crumbled to the ground, leaving jagged pieces jutting up like broken ribs. Strange symbols were etched along its surface, worn by time but still faintly visible. Callen ran a hand over them as they walked by.

"Never seen these before," Callen muttered, tracing a spiral mark with his finger. "Think it's Zhorul writing?"

"Maybe," Victor replied, but deep down, he didn't think so. Zhorul didn't write. They didn't need to.

The symbols pulsed in his memory long after they'd moved on.

Hours passed. They saw no Zhorul, no other survivors, and no signs of life. Just twisted spires, jagged cliffs, and craters filled with dark, oily water. The only sound was the wind and the crunch of their footsteps.

"You feel that?" Callen asked suddenly, stopping mid-step.

Victor slowed. "Feel what?"

Callen's head swiveled, his eyes narrowing. "Like we're being watched."

Victor's grip on his blade tightened. He didn't see anything, but he'd learned long ago that Zhorul weren't always seen before they struck. He scanned the crags ahead and the broken ruins to the side, his heart picking up speed. His ears strained for sounds beyond the wind.

Nothing.

"Keep moving," Victor muttered. "If it's watching, it's waiting."

Callen hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

But they both knew it wasn't gone. It never left once it started watching.

By dusk, the Starlight grew brighter.

"It's getting lower," Victor said, eyes fixed on the glow ahead. It was closer than it had been that morning, and for the first time, he thought he could see something within it. Not just light, but movement. Flickers of shapes like shifting glass.

"Don't like that," Callen muttered, pulling his jacket tighter against the cold. His breath fogged in front of him. "Stuff falling from the sky never means anything good. Remember the Fire Rain from the south? Burned a whole settlement to ash."

"This isn't Fire Rain," Victor said. "It's… something else."

Callen grumbled, "Yeah, well, something else can still kill us."

They found shelter in a hollowed-out ruin with half a roof intact. The wind howled louder now, carrying with it the faint, distant sound of something that might have been a Zhorul's call. Low. Resonant. Too far away to be a threat, but close enough to make them sit with their backs to the wall.

Victor pulled out the jar of water and took a small sip, letting it sit in his mouth before swallowing. Callen didn't ask for any. He just sat with his knees up, knife balanced on his leg, watching the entrance of the ruin like it might bite him.

"Gonna be like this the whole way, huh?" Callen muttered.

"Probably," Victor said.

Callen sighed, tapping the knife's hilt. "You better be worth all this trouble, Hollow."

The next morning, they woke to claw marks.

Deep gouges lined the stone just outside the ruin, long parallel streaks like someone had dragged a rake across it.

Callen ran a finger over one of the marks, his face grim. "That wasn't here when we got in."

"No," Victor agreed, eyes scanning the gray fog beyond the ruin's entrance. "It wasn't."

"You hear anything last night?" Callen asked, checking the edge of his knife.

"Nothing," Victor replied. "You?"

Callen shook his head.

They stood in silence for a moment, eyes on the claw marks. Five claws. Deep. Precise. Not like a Zhorul's usual erratic strikes. This was different. Calculated.

"Tracks head east," Callen muttered, glancing at the faint prints leading away from the ruin. Each one was heavy, with toes spread wide, like something walking on all fours.

"Looks like it's following the Starlight," Victor said.

Callen blinked. "You think it's chasing it too?"

"Don't know," Victor replied, his gaze still locked on the tracks. "But I think it knows where we're going."

"Great," Callen muttered. "Love being hunted by something smarter than me."

Victor crouched by the claw marks, his fingers brushing the cold stone. The grooves were sharp. Fresh. As if the thing that made them had been watching them sleep, waiting just outside.

"Next time, we take turns watching," Victor said.

Callen gave him a look. "Next time, I'm sleeping in a tree."

Victor didn't argue.

The Starlight pulsed once, like a slow heartbeat. Both of them saw it.

"Did it just get brighter?" Callen asked, shielding his eyes from the glow.

"Yeah," Victor said, squinting against the light. It wasn't like before. The glow was warmer now, less like a star and more like a flame. It flickered, flashed, then held steady again, as if calling them forward.

"Feels like it's getting louder too," Callen muttered, rubbing his temples. "Not in my ears, though. In my head."

Victor glanced at him. "You hear it too?"

Callen nodded, frowning. "Like someone humming."

Follow the light.

The words echoed in Victor's mind. He'd heard them before. Back in his dream.

They walked east, the glow of the Starlight leading them onward. They didn't look back. Neither of them wanted to see if something was following.