It was still dark when the three of them reached Terra’s outer gate.

  Their lungs burned. Their legs ached. Dirt and sweat clung to their skin. They had run nonstop from the ruins, the sound of that monster’s final shriek still echoing in their ears.

  The moon hung low in the sky, barely piercing the thick smoke rising from the farmlands. Ash floated down like snow.

  No guards stood watch.

  The wide stone doors were open—one hanging crookedly from a single hinge. A helmet rolled slowly across the threshold, coming to rest beside a broken spear.

  Alden, Lyn, and Louie stepped through.

  And stopped.

  Terra was burning.

  Fires crawled along the rooftops, casting the streets in flickering red and orange. Long, jagged shadows danced across the walls. A low haze blanketed the city, thick with ash, blood, and something foul and metallic that made Alden gag.

  Monsters roamed freely.

  They were nothing like animals. Their bodies were twisted, malformed—limbs too long, jaws split unevenly, spines arched like cracked bridges. Some dragged themselves across the ground. Others loped on all fours. A few stalked upright like mockeries of people.

  All of them were hunting.

  Bodies lay across the stone roads. Guards in green armor. Civilians. Children.

  Alden dropped to his knees and vomited.

  Lyn covered her mouth, trying not to scream. Her eyes shimmered, wide with horror.

  Louie stood frozen, staring out over the city. Quiet. Too quiet.

  “…What did we do?” Alden whispered.

  Before anyone could answer, shouting rang out from around the corner.

  “Clear the path! Keep moving! Get them to the church—GO!”

  A cluster of green-armored guards appeared, escorting a group of shaken civilians. Some were limping. Others carried children or wounded neighbors.

  One guard broke off and ran toward them.

  “Hey! You three!” he barked, eyes wide. “What are you doing here?! The city’s lost—we’re evacuating! Go to the church, now!”

  Then—a low snarl.

  A creature dropped from the rooftop above—landing squarely on the guard.

  The man’s scream was cut off in an instant.

  Blood sprayed the street.

  The monster tore into him with jagged claws, twisting its neck as it ripped through armor like paper.

  The civilians screamed.

  One woman turned and bolted. Another collapsed, sobbing. The guards hesitated for just a moment before raising their weapons.

  “MONSTER!”

  Louie’s voice cracked through the chaos. “RUN!”

  Alden grabbed Lyn’s hand.

  They ran—joined by a handful of civilians and a few guards who weren’t fighting. Their footsteps thundered across the stone as they sprinted down the bloodied road, hearts pounding, the church just a desperate hope ahead.

  Behind them, steel clashed with flesh.

  And the screams didn’t stop.

  They ran.

  Down narrow streets choked with smoke. Past shattered homes and toppled carts. Past the market square, where flames climbed rooftops and the sky glowed orange with fire.

  “The church is past the artisan quarter!” Louie shouted between breaths.

  “We’re close!” Lyn yelled, clutching her injured arm.

  Alden’s legs burned, but he didn’t stop. Behind them, the sound of battle echoed—swords clashing, monsters shrieking, civilians screaming. The air was thick with ash and something worse: the smell of blood.

  They turned a corner—and found a street already under siege.

  Monsters poured from broken windows and shattered alleys, malformed and feral. They swarmed the last group of civilians and a handful of exhausted guards trying to hold the line.

  One of the guards turned. “More civilians! Get them behind the wall!”

  The trio didn’t need to be told twice. Alden pulled Lyn behind a collapsed stall, while Louie helped an elderly man duck behind an overturned cart.

  A guard’s scream pierced the air. Another was knocked off his feet and dragged into the shadows.

  Panic swelled.

  Then—the ground trembled.

  A pillar of earth surged up in the middle of the road, blasting three monsters backward.

  A man stepped through the smoke.

  Massive. Armored. Unshaken.

  He wore green-enchanted plate armor etched with thick bands of glowing brown-gold Terra script. His helmet was missing, revealing grizzled hair and a short-cropped beard streaked with gray. His eyes burned with focus.

  In one hand, he carried a towering shield, as tall as his torso. In the other, a broadsword that glowed like molten rock.

  “Dad…?” Lyn whispered, stunned.

  George didn’t even glance at her yet. His attention was on the monsters.

  “Shields up!” he barked at the remaining guards. “Hold the center!”

  The soldiers rallied—more out of instinct than hope.

  George marched forward and slammed his shield into the earth.

  Stone ruptured beneath him. A wave of jagged spikes burst from the ground, impaling two charging monsters before they could leap.

  One lunged from the side—he met it with a shoulder check, then crushed it underfoot as a wall of vines burst from the ground, slamming another into the stone.

  Another guard fought beside him but struggled to land a blow. George raised his hand, clenched a fist—and the ground beneath the monster swallowed it whole.

  It didn’t take long.

  Within moments, the street was silent except for heavy breathing and the hiss of burning wood.

  The monsters—what remained of them—retreated into the shadows.

  Guards lowered their weapons.

  Civilians began to breathe again.

  A young soldier hiding behind a splintered barrel peeked out. “That’s George,” he whispered. “One of the Ten. Chosen by the king. They say he carved out half the western tunnels by himself…”

  Alden glanced at Lyn, whose eyes were still locked on her father.

  George turned now—finally—and met her gaze. His expression cracked, just for a moment.

  “Lyn?” he said.

  She rushed to him, throwing her good arm around his chest plate. He dropped his sword and held her close with one heavy, gloved hand.

  “I’m so glad you’re” she began, voice breaking. “We ran, there were monsters, and then—”

  He squeezed her gently. “It’s okay, I’m here now.”

  She pulled back, face pale. “Where’s Mom?”

  George’s jaw tensed—but he nodded.

  “She’s at the church. Helping. We’ll be safer there.”

  Lyn blinked fast, trying to hold herself together. “Okay… okay.”

  George turned to the gathered crowd. “Everyone, stay close. We move fast and quiet. If you see anything move, shout.”

  Alden helped a limping man to his feet. Louie scanned the rooftops as they started moving.

  With George at the front, they pressed onward.

  Toward the church.

  The old stone church stood near Terra’s outer wall, its cracked dome silhouetted against the faint moonlight. Ivy crept along its edges, and its iron-framed windows flickered with candlelight. The front doors had been reinforced with stone slabs, and two guards stood watch—tired, but alert.

  As the group approached, a few soldiers stepped forward, visibly relieved when they saw George.

  Inside, the church was warm and dim. Rows of pews were packed with civilians—families huddled close, injured workers wrapped in cloaks. The air smelled of smoke, herbs, and blood. Healers moved among the wounded—some channeling magic, others working with steady, practiced hands.

  At the front of the sanctuary, a woman knelt over a bleeding soldier. Her sleeves were rolled up, hands glowing faintly green as she pressed against a deep gash.

  “Breathe,” she said gently. “You’re going to be fine.”

  The soldier gave a weak nod. She checked his pulse, wiped her hands on a cloth, and turned—

  “Mom!” Lyn’s voice cracked.

  Samantha’s breath caught.

  “Lyn?”

  They collided in the center aisle. Lyn clung to her mother, sobbing into her shoulder.

  “You’re okay,” Samantha whispered, squeezing her tight. “You’re safe. You’re here…”

  “I thought I’d never see you again,” Lyn choked out.

  George entered behind them, dragging his dented shield. His armor was cracked in three places, one shoulder bruised and bloodied.

  Samantha gave him a brief, knowing look. “Still breathing?”

  “Barely,” he grunted.

  Alden and Louie lingered near the entrance, unsure if they should follow.

  “You must be Alden and Louie,” Samantha said, looking up. Her voice was tired, but warm.

  Alden straightened awkwardly. “Yeah… that’s us.”

  “Thank you for staying with my daughter.”

  Alden rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly, I think she saved us more than the other way around.”

  Louie gave a polite nod.

  Samantha smiled faintly. “Still. I’m glad you were together.”

  She turned back to Lyn, gently guiding her to sit on the altar steps.

  “Let me see your arm. Does it hurt?”

  Lyn nodded. “A little.”

  “Just a little?” Samantha raised a brow, inspecting the bruise. “You get that from your father.”

  “The church is running low on supplies,” she added. “Alden, Louie—can you grab a kit from the back room? Second door past the altar. I need linen wraps and balm jars.”

  “On it,” Alden said quickly.

  He gave Lyn a thumbs-up as he and Louie slipped past the altar, heading down the side aisle. As they walked, they passed families huddled together, and wounded civilians with bandages around heads and torsos.

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  And voices.

  “They came through the fields...”

  “Crawled right out of the floor…”

  “My brother was on patrol. They never even found his sword.”

  “They had eyes. But not like us.”

  Alden glanced sideways at Louie. “What even are these things?”

  Louie was quiet for a second. “I don’t know. But I think they were waiting.”

  Alden frowned. “Waiting for what?”

  No answer.

  They reached the back room and rummaged through the shelves. Only a few items remained—most of the supplies had already been used.

  “You’re way too calm about all this,” Alden muttered as he grabbed the jar of balm.

  “I don’t have a choice,” Louie replied simply.

  Alden hesitated. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this scared.”

  Louie looked at him, then the supplies in his hands.

  “Then just do what you can.”

  When they returned, Samantha had finished cleaning Lyn’s wound. She tied the bandage with practiced ease and brushed Lyn’s hair from her eyes.

  “You’re stronger than you think.”

  “I don’t feel like it,” Lyn said quietly.

  “You don’t have to.” Samantha kissed her forehead. “Just stay close. That’s enough.”

  George sat nearby against a pillar, gritting his teeth as another healer unstrapped his armor.

  “You’re limping,” Samantha called over, not looking.

  “I’m fine.”

  “I’ll check it after this,” she said, calm as ever.

  “You’ve got enough to deal with.”

  “And you’re not helping by bleeding all over the floor.”

  A few chuckles came from nearby. Lyn cracked a small smile. Alden even smirked.

  More guards entered, guiding new survivors toward the pews. The doors were sealed again.

  For the moment—it felt safe.

  Alden sat beside Louie. “How did this happen? There were no alarms. No warnings.”

  A nearby guard looked over. “Because they didn’t come from outside. They came from under. Tunnels, cracks. Places we stopped looking.”

  George leaned forward. “They’ve been here the whole time. Waiting for something.”

  “Or someone,” Louie murmured.

  Quiet fell.

  Samantha broke it as she passed a bottle of herbs to another healer.

  “We don’t know what they are. Only that they’re not natural.”

  Alden looked up at her. “You’re a healer?”

  “I’m a doctor,” she said, then smiled. “But yes—I’ve trained in both.”

  “She’s helped everyone in the district at least once,” Lyn said, softer now.

  “Twice,” George grunted. “Including me.”

  “That’s because you never tell anyone when you’re hurt,” Samantha shot back.

  Lyn let out a soft laugh. Alden smiled. Even Louie’s shoulders seemed to relax.

  Then—

  crack.

  A sudden groan from above. Dust rained down from the ceiling. Heads turned.

  Then—

  the roof exploded.

  A massive, deformed monster tore through the dome. Its eyes bulged. Its jaw unhinged too wide.

  And before anyone could react—

  It lunged.

  And Samantha’s head was gone.

  Samantha’s body collapsed to the floor.

  No head. No final words. Just a wet thud and a spreading pool of blood.

  Lyn stared.

  She didn’t scream at first.

  She didn’t breathe.

  Then—

  “MOM!”

  She lunged forward, feet slipping on the slick stone, eyes wild.

  “NO—NO! GET OFF ME!” she howled as Alden tackled her down from behind. “SHE’S RIGHT THERE! SHE’S RIGHT THERE!”

  “She’s gone—Lyn—Lyn, please—” Alden’s voice cracked as he held her, too small, too weak.

  Lyn thrashed, kicking wildly. “LET ME GO! LET ME GO!”

  Louie grabbed her other side, quiet but firm, his face pale.

  They were all just kids. Tired. Shaking. Powerless.

  The monster crashed fully into the church.

  Its massive, deformed body crawled through the shattered dome, limbs cracking like tree trunks, skin stretched too tight over its bones. Teeth twisted inward. Arms bent the wrong way.

  And it was angry.

  The crowd scattered. Civilians ran in every direction. One tripped and was crushed before they could rise. A guard screamed for everyone to stay behind him—then was flung across the room like a doll.

  A woman tried to climb over a bench with her child.

  She didn’t make it.

  The monster tore through them.

  Blood soaked the altar steps.

  Alden watched in horror. Louie pushed him and Lyn toward the wall, into a gap behind a broken statue.

  “Stay down,” Louie whispered.

  George didn’t hide.

  He rose.

  His eyes locked on his wife’s body, then the thing that took her. His breathing hitched—once.

  Then his face twisted into something barely human.

  He bellowed—a roar of grief and rage that shook the rafters—and charged.

  Terra energy exploded beneath his feet. Vines whipped outward, cracking pews apart as they shot toward the monster. George swung his blade with everything he had, screaming her name with every strike.

  The creature reared back. He stabbed it in the gut.

  It shrieked and flailed—but George didn’t stop. He took a hit to the ribs. Another to his shoulder. He stumbled, bleeding, shield arm limp, but he kept going.

  Stone spikes erupted beneath the creature’s feet, staggering it. George leapt and buried his sword into its neck.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  The monster slammed him to the floor. His blade clattered away. His arm bent at the wrong angle.

  George reached for his shield—but it was broken. Everything was broken.

  The titan-thing loomed above him.

  Lyn screamed again, hopelessly.

  Alden buried his face in his hands. “We’re gonna die. We’re actually gonna—”

  Then—

  The air shifted.

  A sudden pressure filled the church. Like gravity bending.

  A gust of wind cut through the sanctuary, snuffing torches, rattling broken glass.

  And then—

  he appeared.

  Not from a door. Not from the stairs.

  From above—falling like a meteor through the hole in the roof, cloak trailing, boots hitting the altar with a boom that split the floor.

  A lone swordsman.

  Slim. Silent. Face shadowed by a hood. One hand resting on the hilt of a single sword strapped across his back.

  Time seemed to slow.

  He stepped once.

  The monster turned.

  He stepped again.

  The trio watched from the shadows—too scared to breathe.

  Then, in a single, fluid motion, the swordsman drew his blade.

  One cut.

  Barely visible.

  A flash of steel—like light skipping across water.

  The monster didn’t scream. It didn’t lurch.

  It just fell apart.

  Its head slid clean from its body. The torso split, folding inward like it had been unzipped. Blood splashed across the altar in a clean, perfect arc.

  Silence.

  All eyes turned to the man with the sword.

  He didn’t gloat. He didn’t speak right away.

  He sheathed his blade with a click and looked toward the survivors—scattered, shaking, broken.

  Then finally:

  “Go to the central castle,” he said, voice calm but cold. “It’s the only place left standing.”

  Before anyone could ask who he was—

  He leapt.

  Back through the dome. Disappearing into the night like a ghost.

  They ran.

  Alden’s lungs burned. Lyn stumbled beside him, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. George was barely moving—his sword dragging behind him, blood soaking through the cracks in his armor. Two guards kept him upright.

  No one spoke.

  They just ran.

  The wide stone bridge leading to Terra’s central castle came into view. Its towering gates loomed ahead, built directly into the mountain—tall, ancient, unwavering. The final stronghold.

  And behind them...

  The sound.

  Screeching. Clawing. Howling.

  Alden looked over his shoulder.

  They were coming.

  Dozens of monsters, malformed and frenzied, swarmed from the burning streets behind them. Some crawled. Some galloped. Some climbed walls like insects.

  And behind them—

  Ten massive creatures.

  Their bodies were misshapen towers of flesh and bone. One lumbered forward on spindly legs that cracked with every step. Another dragged a tail that carved trenches in the stone. One had arms that hung like ropes, ending in claws that never stopped twitching.

  The guards faltered.

  “We’re not gonna make it—” Alden gasped.

  George tried to stand, raising his sword.

  “Form up!” he growled through clenched teeth. “Protect the civilians!”

  He could barely hold himself up.

  Then—

  the earth rumbled.

  And the sky opened.

  A sudden pulse of pressure rolled through the street—followed by silence.

  A figure hovered in the smoke-filled sky, high above the castle gates.

  A young man by appearance—no older than twenty-five. Cloaked in flowing green lined with gold-threaded veins. His crown of stone and ivy glowed faintly, and his bare feet hovered inches above the ground, suspended by a quiet current of energy.

  But no one mistook him for young.

  The way the air bent around him. The way the ground waited.

  He was ancient. Powerful. Terra incarnate.

  King Terra.

  He raised one hand slowly.

  "Enough."

  The street erupted beneath the monsters.

  A wall of thick, thorned vines exploded up from the stone, weaving into a massive barrier that slammed shut behind the fleeing survivors. Roots cracked through buildings. Ivy coiled along rooftops, pulling monsters from the sky.

  From above, King Terra extended his other hand.

  Spikes of stone burst forward from the street, skewering three creatures mid-leap. Carnivorous plants bloomed from alleyways, snapping jaws around limbs and torsos. Vines lashed out like whips, tearing flesh and pulling beasts underground.

  One of the massive monsters roared and tried to charge the wall.

  The King didn’t even blink.

  He clenched his hand—and a ring of stone jaws erupted from beneath it, clamping shut like a bear trap. The creature screamed once.

  Then silence.

  He hovered lower, descending just enough to meet the gaze of the survivors.

  Alden stared in awe.

  Beside him, the ring on his hand pulsed faintly green.

  Only Louie noticed.

  The King spoke—his voice carrying like thunder wrapped in calm.

  “The barrier will hold—for now.”

  He turned toward the guards lining the castle gates.

  “Reinforce it. Help the wounded. Anyone who can fight, stay.”

  The soldiers saluted instantly. “Yes, my King!”

  Then his eyes swept over the civilians.

  “If you can walk—go. The castle is the last sanctuary.”

  The heavy gates creaked open behind him. The survivors moved, half-staggering, half-running. Guards guided them in, shielding them with their bodies.

  Alden and Louie helped Lyn carry George through the archway.

  Behind them, the King remained suspended in the air—watching everything, vines curling beneath him like a throne made of earth.

  And as they crossed into the castle, for the first time all night—

  There were no screams.

  Only breath.

  The doors of the castle sealed with a deep thoom, muffling the horrors outside.

  But safety didn't feel like relief.

  The grand entry hall stretched wide and high, with stone pillars holding up an arched ceiling carved with old Terra glyphs. Green-glowing crystals flickered in sconces along the walls, giving off soft pulses of light.

  Healers rushed back and forth, arms full of bandages, jars of balm, and glowing stones. Civilians huddled in corners and along benches, some crying, others whispering prayers. A toddler wailed uncontrollably until their mother scooped them up in shaking arms.

  Alden sat with his back to a column, clutching his knees to his chest. His legs were sore. His mind was louder than the castle.

  Lyn was beside him on the floor, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her face was blank, her mouth half open like she was trying to say something but couldn’t find the words.

  “She’s gone,” she murmured. “She was right there, and now she’s gone.”

  Alden didn’t answer.

  He wanted to. But nothing he could say felt like enough. Not to her. Not to himself.

  George sat on a low step nearby, grimacing as a healer pressed cloth against his side. His armor was gone, stripped off to reveal a brutal gash down his ribs. Blood-soaked wrappings lay at his feet.

  Lyn turned her head. “You said we’d be safe here.”

  George met her eyes—and his voice failed him.

  Louie watched quietly from a few feet away. The noise of crying and hurried footsteps blurred together like static.

  He stood.

  “I’ll get water.”

  No one answered. Not even Alden.

  The castle hallway was quiet, far from the chaos and crying of the great hall.

  Louie moved slowly, his steps soft on the polished stone. Torches flickered with greenish light, casting shifting shadows across walls carved with Terra’s oldest runes.

  He wasn’t alone.

  King Terra stood ahead, near a narrow archway overlooking the inner courtyard. He didn’t speak at first. Just stood still, eyes fixed on the darkness beyond the castle walls.

  “You always find your way to the edges,” the King said finally.

  Louie stopped a few paces away. “They’re quieter.”

  The King turned, his gaze resting on Louie.

  “You haven’t changed,” he said. “You’re still in that body.”

  “I thought you liked things that don’t change.”

  The King’s expression didn’t shift, but the flicker of tension in the air was unmistakable.

  Louie’s hands stayed behind his back. Calm. Controlled.

  But the stone under both their feet felt heavier now. Like the ground remembered them.

  “You saw the ring,” the King said. “You felt it too.”

  Louie nodded. “I did.”

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The King studied him carefully.

  Louie continued, “But it doesn’t feel right. Like something out of place. Like it never belonged in this world.”

  “And yet you didn’t take it from him.”

  Louie didn’t flinch. “He didn’t do this on purpose.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  A faint tremor rolled beneath the stones, just enough for the torches to flicker.

  The King stepped closer, his voice low. “You and I both know how these things begin. A small shift. A wrong choice. Something strange ignored too long.”

  Louie’s jaw tightened. “He’s just a kid.”

  “Exactly,” the King said. “And kids open doors they can’t close.”

  They stood face-to-face now.

  Louie’s posture stayed loose. But the space between them was charged—like two trees with roots entwined but growing in opposite directions.

  “You used to believe people could learn,” Louie said.

  “I still do,” the King replied. “But not everyone should be handed fire and trusted not to burn down the forest.”

  “You think I’m being na?ve.”

  “I think you’re being hopeful. Again.”

  Louie’s gaze dropped for half a second. Not in defeat. In memory.

  “You’re guarding the walls so tightly,” he said, “you’ve forgotten what they were built for.”

  “They were built to keep people safe.”

  “No,” Louie said. “They were built so people could live.”

  Silence stretched between them.

  Then the King’s voice softened, but only a little. “If that ring is a threat…”

  “I’ll be watching,” Louie said.

  “And if you’re wrong?”

  Louie looked back at him, steady. “Then I’ll stop it.”

  Another silence. Not angry—just heavy.

  The King turned his eyes once more to the window. “You used to stand beside me.”

  “I’m still here,” Louie said, stepping back into the corridor. “Just not in the same place.”

  He walked away.

  And the stone didn’t tremble again.