Some time had passed. Not long, but long enough for skin to scab and habits to settle in.

  The neighborhood still burned, but the way Dorian and Kesi moved through it had changed. They were no longer desperate. Not even cautious.

  They were intent.

  The Starspawn didn’t scream when it died.

  Most of them didn’t, unless they wanted something to hear them.

  This one folded without a sound, spine severed clean through. Its body collapsed inward like scorched parchment, flaking to soot until nothing remained but its weapon. A jagged, glassy shard, fractured like obsidian struck by lightning.

  A Remnant lay beneath the ash. Sharp-edged. Asymmetrical. It pulsed with a slow, steady beat.

  Dorian crouched and lifted it between two fingers. It throbbed once in his palm.

  He inhaled as he anticipated the absorption.

  The rush came immediately. Heat lanced through his chest. Not pain. Not quite. More like pressure, deepening, pushing inward the way a bruise did when pressed.

  He rose slowly.

  Across the street, Kesi scraped ichor from his blade against a concrete barrier. The blood hissed and evaporated into foul smoke.

  “That’s four,” Kesi said.

  “I thought we weren’t counting,” Dorian replied.

  Kesi shrugged. “How else do we keep it interesting?”

  They walked.

  Ash drifted through the half-lit streets like old snow. a car had melted into the sidewalk. A swingset lay folded in on itself like snapped ribs. Wind tugged at blackened plastic tangled in power lines. Every sound felt muted. Distant.

  They found the next group near the shell of the shopping center at the edge of the neighborhood.

  Six Starspawn stood in a loose ring around a collapsed entrance. Motionless. Weapons dragged behind them. Long and narrow. Some curved like blades, others straight as skewers.

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  They were waiting.

  Dorian moved first. Will surged into his legs. Dust kicked up as he leapt, a low barrier flaring across his forearms. Both saber-tooth blades came down together.

  The nearest Starspawn turned too late. Its torso split clean in half. The upper body crumbled before the rest followed.

  Gone.

  Kesi followed, silent and precise. He drove his axe under a ribcage and cleaved hard. Ash fell where the creature stood.

  They moved through the rest in rhythm. Strike. Step. Deflect. Strike again. No wasted motion.

  Then it was quiet.

  Dorian sheathed his blades and scanned the area. Nothing remained but scorched concrete, heat shimmer, and the fading hum of adrenaline.

  Kesi bent and picked up a Remnant wedged between fallen ceiling panels. His hand lingered for a moment before he inhaled.

  He didn’t even flinch as he absorbed a Remnant.

  “You’re getting reckless,” he said as he straightened.

  “I’m getting efficient,” Dorian replied.

  Kesi studied him. “Efficient gets you killed only slightly slower than reckless.”

  Dorian checked one blade for hairline cracks. “I don’t see you holding back.”

  “That’s because I don’t have to,” Kesi said arrogantly. He rolled his shoulders. “You burn Will like it never runs out.”

  “It’s worked so far.”

  Kesi gestured at the long gash torn across Dorian’s coat from a Dormant Fiend earlier. “Barely…”

  Dorian didn’t answer.

  Another Remnant glowed near a melted bike rack. He picked it up and clicked his tongue against his teeth as he absorbed its power. He let out a tired breath after.

  The heat curled into his gut again. Familiar now.

  Too familiar.

  They had both passed the equivalent of fifty Remnants.

  Dorian wiped sweat from his jaw. The air felt wrong. Too still. No drifting ash. No distant shrieks.

  Just the silence that came before something landed.

  He was starting to recognize it. The way the world seemed to brace.

  Kesi slowed beside him, eyes scanning rooftops swallowed by smoke. His eyes wandered as he was listening for movement.

  “You feel that?” Kesi asked.

  Dorian nodded. “Yeah.”

  Pressure built behind their eyes. It wasn’t painful. There was no sound. Just steady, rising pressure.

  They looked up.

  The clouds hung low and gray, backlit by the sun as always. Something moved behind them. At first, just a smudge. A trailing arc of embers.

  Then more followed. Smaller meteors, flaring orange as they tore through the atmosphere in loose formation. A couple dozen, maybe more.

  Standard drops, Dorian thought. Probably Fiends mixed in.

  Then he saw it.

  At the center of the arc, something larger. Heavier. It wasn’t breaking apart. It descended slowly, deliberately.

  It didn’t burn bright. No sparks. Just a dull red glow, like it had already endured too many atmospheres to care.

  It was falling closer.

  “Kesi,” Dorian muttered. “That one’s not breaking up.”

  The pressure in his gut deepened. It felt almost like Will but different.

  Scale.

  The impact hit the horizon a beat later. Far enough not to vaporize them. Close enough to rattle their teeth.

  A white flash bloomed, then vanished into rolling smoke.

  The shockwave followed. Low and flat. Windows shattered for blocks.

  Dust rose across the skyline like a curtain.

  Then the ground shifted.

  Quake wasn’t the right word. A settling.

  Like something enormous had just planted its weight where it did not belong.

  “That wasn’t normal,” Kesi said, not realizing his perception of normal had so radically shifted.

  “No,” Dorian replied. ‘We’re going. Now.”

  They turned and sprinted for the camp.