The road west stretched like a ribbon of promise beneath a pale morning sun, flanked by lazy clouds and the gold-tinged haze of a world slowly waking. Behind them, Blount shrank—its iron-gated walls and stone towers shrinking to smudges on the horizon, the last bastion of familiarity fading into the distance. The creak of the carriage wheels kept rhythm with the steady clop of hooves, the scent of grass heavy in the crisp air.
Terron sat up front, comfortably settled into the high driver's bench, reins loose in hand, a wide grin stretching under his beard. The man relished the task, his broad back steady as the horses pulled their new carriage—sleek, sturdy, and built for long miles. The cart's suspension, blessedly smooth, let the others relax inside. The days of dragging half a wagon through untamed wilds were behind them—at least for now.
Seta perched near a slit window, her small, hovering drone flickering just above the roofline. Through its flickering lens, she monitored their surroundings, the streets behind, and the fields ahead—silent and watchful. Opposite corners of the cart belonged to the archers—Renn, lounging against the interior wall with a casual slouch and her feet half out the door beside Terron, while Eno took up the rear, sitting cross-legged on the lowered back gate. His summoned bow rested loosely across his lap, one foot bouncing idly, eyes half-lidded but scanning the plains with habitual vigilance.
Inside, Koda lay stretched out, his head resting on Maia's lap. Her fingers idly combed through his hair as he watched the fabric roof sway with the rhythm of their movement. The gentle sway, the warmth of her thigh beneath his cheek, the sound of leather reins and the hush of grass brushing the wheels—it was a peace so fragile it almost didn't seem real.
As the last hills gave way to a sweeping sprawl of plains, the terrain flattened and opened like a green ocean beneath an endless sky. The highland grasses, emerald and tall, swayed in long waves. Occasional herds of wild beasts—deerlike, horned, or broad-backed and shaggy—watched their passage from afar before bounding into the distance. Here, with visibility stretching for miles, ambushes seemed laughably unlikely. It was wide, fertile, and deceptively serene—exactly the kind of terrain one could feel safe in.
Still, they were careful.
Hours into the ride, Seta raised a quiet alert. Up ahead, nestled to the side of the road, was a crumbled structure, half-swallowed by earth and moss. Time and weather had gnawed it down to bones—low walls of gray brick with strange linear patterns etched by wear, jutting steel rebar curling like blackened roots. One wall bore the remnants of strange faded symbols, once paint, now warped by water and sun. Chunks of broken tile lay scattered beneath what might have once been a roof. The center of it had collapsed inward long ago, now an uneven pit choked with weeds and the twisted remains of something mechanical—rusted frames, glass panels shattered to glinting dust.
None of them could place its purpose.
"A ruin?" Eno asked, twisting on the back edge of the cart.
"Maybe a holdout," Seta muttered. "Shelter, once. Not anymore."
They slowed, scanning the shadows as they passed. The structure, though clearly old, bore signs of recent disturbance—disturbed grass, broken footprints, and a skeletal form half-sunken into the greenery near the rear, its bones stripped of armor, ribs splayed like a broken cage. Seta's drone passed overhead, clicking softly.
"Clear, mostly. One rotling's remains. Looks like someone already handled it," she said, eyes on the feed.
"Still," Maia murmured, her fingers pausing in Koda's hair, "it feels…off."
The ruin passed behind them, swallowed once again by distance and grass. And still they rolled on into the quiet plain, the breeze picking up, warm and constant.
For now, the road was kind. But every ruin whispered reminder that peace was borrowed time.
——
The sun began to dip low on the horizon, bleeding gold and fire across the sea of grass. The landscape shifted with the changing light—rolling waves of shadow sliding between the stalks, the distant silhouette of their path behind them swallowed by a slow, creeping dusk. With no trees or cliffs for cover, they made their camp in the open—vulnerable to eyes, yes, but not to surprise. There was no subtle approach here. Anyone or anything would have to cross open earth to reach them.
They circled the new carriage, using its bulk as the windbreak and center of their camp. No tents tonight—they didn't need them. The carriage's interior was tight, but with proper rotation and the folding benches, they made it work. Supply crates were repurposed as tables, and a small cooking fire burned low within a ring of stones. Their breath misted as the temperature dropped, the air sharp with the scent of ash, dry grass, and something faintly sweet from the fields.
They set a two-hour rotation, always two awake. First were Maia and Eno.
Koda volunteered for the first sleep shift, exhausted from the night before, his body still weary from nightmares he couldn't quite escape. Maia had him lay his head in her lap again, cradling it gently as he drifted off. Her hand moved through his hair in lazy strokes, her eyes scanning the horizon while Eno sat cross-legged a few feet away, his summoned bow in his lap, face quiet but alert.
The last light disappeared.
And the unease returned.
It began with Koda's breath. It quickened, shallow and restless. His brow furrowed as his head twitched slightly in her lap. Maia felt the tension build in his jaw, saw his fists clench.
He was dreaming again.
In the Dream
A banquet of glistening gold and crimson stretched for miles—a grotesque, opulent feast devouring itself in a spiral of grandeur and madness. Silver trays collapsed under the weight of meat still twitching with life, plates piled high with fruits that pulsed like organs, dripping juice that smelled of rot and sugar.
Koda stood at the head of the endless table. Alone.
His mouth was full—too full—and he chewed. He couldn't stop chewing. His hands—bloated and trembling—shoved food between his lips even as his stomach bulged, the skin growing thin and tight, veins purpled against stretched flesh. He choked, coughed, and still chewed. His throat burned. His jaw cracked. Still he chewed.
Around him, mirror-versions of himself stared with hollow eyes, every one of them feeding.
Across the table sat figures—people he knew, now rotting and ruined. Terron laughed without humor as black bile dribbled from his mouth, chomping through bone. Seta's hands, elegant and deft, now clawed at food with skeletal fingers. Renn sat back, her eyes rolled white, body unmoving, jaw distended as a mass of insects spilled out of her throat. Maia was there too—at the far end, smiling with stained teeth and split lips, whispering something he couldn't hear. Something wrong.
Koda looked down.
His stomach was open.
And still he ate.
Back in reality, Maia stiffened.
Koda let out a low moan—too sharp, too raw to be just sleep. His body jerked once, violently, and she instinctively gripped his shoulders.
"Koda?" she whispered, voice thick with concern.
Eno glanced up. His brow furrowed.
Then they both heard it.
Not Koda. Beyond him.
A low sound, almost indistinguishable at first—a rustle in the grass. Then another. Dozens. Hundreds.
Maia stood up quickly, carefully lowering Koda's head to the floor of the carriage. Eno already had his bow in hand, stepping out to the edge of the firelight, eyes narrowed.
He didn't need to say it.
They were surrounded.
Figures emerged from the darkness, blotting out the horizon in jagged rows. Limbs broken at unnatural angles. Teeth bared. Eyes that glowed faintly with green fire. Undead—scores of them—half-dressed in rusted armor, others naked but for blood and claw.
Maia's heart raced. She kicked the carriage.
"Wake up! Everyone!"
Koda bolted upright with a gasp, drenched in sweat, eyes wide and unfocused, chest heaving. He looked around—faces, flames, weapons, shapes in the night—but the fear hadn't left him. His mind still half-bound in that banquet of gore.
"Koda!" Maia shouted, grabbing his face. "You're here. You're with us."
He blinked. Once. Twice.
Then his eyes snapped into focus.
Undead. Real.
And they were closing in.
Koda sat hunched forward, knuckles white where they clenched the edge of the carriage floor. His chest rose and fell in jagged bursts. The dream hadn't left him—not entirely. The gluttony, the voices, the sight of Maia smiling through blood. They clawed at the back of his mind like fingernails against stone.
Outside, the moans of the dead grew louder.
He stood abruptly, almost striking his head on the carriage roof. His shadow stretched across the others as he pushed open the side panel.
"Stay here," he growled, voice ragged, the edge of it guttural and barely human.
"Koda—" Maia moved to stop him, but Terron reached out and gently stopped her.
Koda glanced back at Terron. No words passed between them.
Terron nodded. He understood.
Koda stepped off the carriage and onto the open field, blades in both hands.
The night swallowed him.