@ChicagoWatcher: “Noon update: drones grounded. Cops say ‘temporary flight restriction.’ People are still filming with phones from across the river.”

  @BangaloreBuzz: “Prestige Tech Park perimeter extended to ORR service road. People have reported smells of iodine or sulphur in the vicinity”

  @DGCAIndia: “Advisory: Temporary ground stop at VOBL (Bengaluru) lifted. Operations resume with revised approaches. Helicopters & drones prohibited within 10 km of the affected tech park.”

  @CNoteAlerts: “Community Note: Viral ‘monster on highway’ clip is from a 2019 Indonesian short film. Not related to yesterday’s missing incident”

  @SydneyHarborWatch: “Water at Circular Quay site is warmer by 1.8°C within 50m of the barrier. Fisherman’s temp probe, not official.”

  @ChennaiWaves: “My cousin staying near Adyar says birds won’t fly over the cordoned off area. They arc around it like there’s a dome covering the area #EotW”

  @Ana.phys: “Anomalies that kill drones but not birds? Birds arc away voluntarily. Machines don’t. That’s not physics; that’s behavior.”

  @RiyadhCityWatch: “Dust crews say the plaza by the cordon needs sweeping every hour. The same patch keeps silting. There is no wind. #EotW”

  — Civilian responses on Day 2 of The Crossing

  Sid POV

  Sid felt it first, a prickle along his neck, a feeling of being watched. The light was thin under the canopy, and the air seemed still. He checked the others.

  Rohan and Aditi had Mahesh by the shoulders, trying to peel him off the trunk; the web clung in stretchy sheets that glistened like soaked glue. Aditi hacked at the translucent strands with a chipped shard. Each strike made the silk tremble but not part, and her jaw tightened with each miss.

  “Help her,” Rohan told Varun, flicking two fingers toward Aditi. He kept his eyes on her hands as she adjusted her hold on the shard.

  Varun watched, mouth tilted in a smirk. “Why bother with this farce? The web will dissolve in a minute or two.” He shifted, leaning against a tree, as if the outcome were certain.

  Rohan turned to call Sid over and paused. Sid was not beside him. He had drifted a few steps out, shoulders tight, scanning the dense tree line.

  “What is the matter?” Rohan asked, his tone tense, the light mirth from earlier gone.

  “I think we’re being watched.” Sid scanned from left to right and adjusted his stance to see between the trunks.

  Aditi looked up at once, lowering the shard. Panic spread across Mahesh’s face, and he started thrashing. The movement shook the silk and made the trunk thud.

  “Mahesh,” Varun snapped, finally lifting his spear. “It’s mostly on your clothes. Strip them. Fight in your underpants if you have to.”

  The words hit hard, and Mahesh froze, then nodded and worked on unbuttoning his shirt with clumsy fingers.

  Rohan stepped into the center. “Aditi, check the mist. Everyone else spread out in a circle around Mahesh. Keep your eyes peeled.”

  Aditi nodded once. “On it.” She tilted her chin and scanned the foliage for movement.

  The clearing settled into silence. Where moments before the air had snapped with tension and webbing, now only breath remained—shallow, uncertain.

  Then, a shape emerged from behind a wide, moss-covered trunk. It moved upright, slow. Not skittering. Human, or close enough to trigger doubt. Sid’s mind jumped between hope and threat. Before anyone else reacted, he called out. “Who goes there?”

  Aditi jumped and then turned on him with wide eyes. Rohan’s hand rose, as if to tell him to shut up. Varun turned quickly, spear lifted, tense.

  From behind the tree, a man emerged with both arms raised. “We mean no harm.” His voice was calm, but deliberate. Behind him, four more figures stepped into view, vague in the mist. His suit was wrinkled and streaked with damp, cuffs marked with mud and crushed leaves.

  Varun’s reaction was instant. He flinched and raised his weapon higher. The man halted, took two short steps back, and steadied himself. He wasn’t just scared. He was calculating the number of people, their spacing, the man webbed to a tree.

  Rohan turned to the new arrivals and raised a hand in return. “Hello.” His voice was calm but watchful.

  The man took the cue and closed the distance at the same measured pace. Humidity slicked his salt-and-pepper hair. His posture stayed straight.

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  Four others followed in a loose line: two men, two women. The nearer woman, blonde and pale under the canopy, kept her eyes forward, suit flecked with rain. The two men behind her wore matching restaurant uniforms. Their name tags were skewed; one still had an apron ribbon tied at his waist and kept touching it like he wanted to hide it.

  Sid blinked; he knew that guy in restaurant uniform. It was the manager from his regular lunch place. From the look on the restaurant manager’s face, he seemed to recognize him as well.

  The last was a young woman with a backpack riding high, straps cinched tight. The pack shifted with weight each time she stepped on wet leaf litter. She kept her stride steady, breath measured.

  “Name’s Nagaraj, you can call me Naga. We were in the cafeteria when… all this started,” the man said. His eyes checked their hands, counted faces, and paused on Mahesh. “I’m sorry, but what’s that?” He pointed at Mahesh’s bare chest and unbuttoned shirt.

  As if the attention tipped a balance, the silk relaxed. Threads slackened, turned cloudy, and sifted away as thin strands of light. Mahesh wrenched free with a tacky sound and caught himself, blinking. Naga’s composure slipped into brief astonishment before he set it back in place.

  “Can you tell us what’s going on?” Naga asked again, voice steadying.

  Sid stepped in before the silence grew suspicious. “We were attacked by a monster. When it died, it left behind a crystal. Rohan touched it and picked up one of its skills. That’s what we were testing when you arrived.” His voice stayed steady, just enough detail to satisfy, not enough to provoke.

  They’ll want more answers. I need them to see value in teaming up. But not everything needs to be on the table just yet, Sid thought. He shot a look at Varun, a silent request to stay quiet.

  Varun didn’t nod or flinch. He blinked once and gave no gesture of acknowledgement.

  “Did you see anyone else on your way here? Any monsters?” Mahesh stepped forward, placing himself between Rohan and the suited man, shoulders squaring.

  “A few others from the business park,” Naga said. “Then a boar hit us out of nowhere, and we ran. No one wanted to play the hero. Since then, slow and careful. No more contact.” Behind him, his group barely shifted.

  Drips from the trees tapped rhythmically against stone, but the newcomers stayed quiet, as if breaking the silence might break something else too.

  “Do you want to join us?” Mahesh kept his eyes on Naga, his tone clipped.

  He must’ve likely realized authority gravitating towards Rohan and wanted to wrench it back, thought Sid.

  “That would be…” Naga began.

  Varun cut in. “Why do we want them to join us? So they can run the next time a monster comes?” The volume stayed low, but the edge did not.

  Naga didn’t flinch. “Running away was normal,” he said plainly, meeting Varun’s gaze without apology. “Killing that boar is not. Most people when faced with teeth and blood, they run. It’s instinct. Don’t mistake it for cowardice.” His words were level, not defensive, and his gaze stayed with Varun until the tension cooled by a degree.

  Sid’s eyes tracked the newcomers’ gear: over-packed bags, no weapons, no coordination in stance or grip. He could already picture them slowing the group. “What are you offering?” he asked. “Why should we keep you around?”

  Every person here means more mouths, more risk, more noise. Even trust is a limited resource, he thought.

  Mahesh’s voice broke like a snapped branch. “What is wrong with you?” he said, too loud. “We need people. A way out. Maybe you don’t care, but I have a family.” The words rang against bark and stone and faded. The silence that followed was louder.

  Rohan stepped in and reset the flow. “Moving together might be safer for both of us. But we should set ground rules: checking supplies and objectives.”

  Naga waited for another cut-in that did not come. “Fair,” he said, concluding that Rohan was the de facto leader of the group. “Where do you want to start?”

  “Inventory,” Rohan said, leaning forward. “Food, water, weapons.”

  Naga lifted his hand and ticked items. “Two bottles of water between us. One kitchen knife. Clothes. Bed sheets. No food, though.” As he pointed to each person, they shifted and nodded, a small ritual of accountability.

  Sid turned to the backpacker, eyes dropping to the scuffed straps. “Returning from home?”

  She nodded, her gaze slid along faces, posture, and spacing, weighing distance like a bouncer watching a door. Sid’s mouth tightened in a private smile. Does she think she can take us? Not unless she has a trick, something like Varun or Rohan’s skills.

  “We were planning to find more people and camp near a water source,” Naga said, drawing the line back to plan and place.

  “We have two bottles and two packed lunches,” Rohan said. He let it sit long enough to be heard. The knife has value beyond a fight: for cutting stakes, dressing meat, and setting splints, he thought. If we risk cooking at all.

  Mahesh took out his phone. “Did you check your phones? Any signal?”

  Naga shook his head. “No signal.”

  Mahesh let out a breath, shoulders slumping.

  “Maybe if we head up the hill, we’ll catch a signal,” Naga said, a touch faster now. His eyes flicked between faces, looking for agreement.

  Sid’s voice was calm but searching. “How do you know we’re on a hill?” He locked eyes with Naga, hoping the man had more than guesses and half-remembered facts. We can’t keep pretending nature trivia equals survival skills.

  Naga counted on his fingers. “I’ve tested a few things—water flows faster one way, the bottle drifts with it, moss clings thickly to one side of every trunk, and the level app in my phone shows a gradient. Taken together, it suggests we’re on a hillside.”

  Sid gave a small nod, credit where due.

  “Wasted our water,” said the restaurant manager, muttering something else in Hindi, disapproval dripping in his tone. Naga let the comment slide and looked back at Rohan and Sid.

  Mahesh broke the silence. “We’ll go up and see if there’s a signal.” His tone dared disagreement, but when he looked to Sid and Rohan, he didn’t find agreement, just hesitation.

  “I don’t think we should go uphill,” Rohan said, eyes following the slight rise in the ground. “We’ve got four bottles of water; that’s about two mouthfuls each. Climbing wastes our resources.” He glanced at Naga, who gave a small, quiet nod.

  Varun drew a breath to push back, but Sid stepped in. “There might not be towers at all,” he said evenly. “We’ve got magic spiders handing out powers, for God’s sake. Let’s not burn energy on a ‘maybe’.” He kept his eyes on the group, not just on Mahesh.

  Mahesh stared at the ground. “I just want to get back to my family.” The words spilled out, low and raw, stripping the sharpness from his tone.

  Varun’s mouth twitched without humor. “If there’s even an exit.”

  Naga scanned their faces, reading reactions. “There’s a worse scenario.” He let it hang. “What if our families were brought here too? Not just us. Everyone.” The words dropped into the silence like a weight.

  Mahesh blinked, throat working. Rohan’s arms crossed, almost as if to hold the idea out. Sid’s hands dropped to his sides, and his eyes tracked the ground. Varun looked away. In that moment, the argument dissolved—not because it ended, but because its axis shifted. They were no longer debating escape. They were redefining survival.