They moved through the fog-drenched ruins of a forest, heading southwest. The sky didn't so much as rise, but bled a thin, sickly light around the unmoving sun, just hanging there, staring down like a festering wound. Upon closer inspection, the trees looked less like flora and more like silhouettes of people frozen mid-flight, backs twisted toward the south as if they'd tried to flee something long ago and failed. The earth was cracked and dry, covered in ash that clung to their boots like something unwilling to let go.
Esther led the way, her feline tail twitching with irritation, spear resting carelessly on her shoulder. Veron walked beside her, pointing out faint trails with a familiarity that suggested he'd wandered here long ago. Behind them, Thierry and Emma moved together—more out of circumstance than any comfort—while Lee trailed at the back, quiet and ever-watchful.
The forest wasn't lush—it had been clawed and gutted, as if something had devoured its heart and left only the bones. The air was thick with smoke, curling low over the ash-covered ground, the wind whispering between the dead trunks like a long-lost memory.
Thierry kept one hand near his pack and tried to ignore the weight of the anchor inside. It hadn't done anything since the last time. No glow, no hum, not even a whisper. Just a cold, carved stone that pulsed occasionally, like it wanted to remind him it was still alive, just not for him.
Good. He didn't want it anymore.
He didn't understand how Flux worked, not really. Veron had tried to explain bits—something about Wellsprings and chains and the danger of using Flux raw—but it was like trying to catch smoke in a bucket. None of it stuck. The only thing he remembered clearly was what happened when someone crushed an anchor without a chain: they bled out of every pore and screamed until their bones cracked. He'd seen it once, from a rooftop back in Kuther when he was too young to understand why the air tasted like iron afterward. That memory stuck better than any lecture.
They slowed as the forest sloped down toward a ravine where the path narrowed and half-collapsed ruins hugged the stone. Ashen vines strangled the remnants of what might've once been an altar, and crumbled steps disappeared into a pit on the other side. Moss shifted sluggishly underfoot, as if debating whether it was alive or merely pretending.
Esther raised a hand, sharp eyes scanning ahead. "We stop here," she said, not looking back. "Something's been nesting nearby."
Veron stretched lazily, but his eyes flicked over the terrain like they were measuring it for threats. "Wonderful. Maybe we'll get lucky and find an abandoned brood of teeth and claws."
Lee said nothing, dropping beside a half-buried pillar, one axe resting against his knee. His silence didn't say much—but it didn't need to.
Thierry sat on a worn slab of stone, exhaling as the pressure in his legs caught up with him. He shrugged off his pack, letting it thud to the ground, then hesitated before reaching inside. His fingers found the anchor by instinct. It had become familiar, like a wound you checked just to make sure it still hurt.
It did.
He pulled it free. The shard of stone was roughly carved, edges worn smooth by time or touch. It didn't shine. It didn't tremble. But it beat, faintly, like a second pulse.
Emma hovered a few steps away, eyes drawn to it.
"You keep looking at it." he said without turning.
She startled, then stepped closer. "Is that… the one from before?"
"Yeah," he muttered, rolling it in his palm. "It didn't accept me."
"Oh."
Her silence folded in again, awkward and uncertain. She sat beside him, hands in her lap, trying not to glance at the shard but failing.
He caught the look. It twisted something in him—ugly and bitter.
"You want it?" he spat, bitterness dripping from every word.
Emma blinked. "What?"
"The anchor, you were staring at it, might as well try it. See if it likes you better."
She hesitated, clearly unsure. "I didn't mean to—"
Thierry shrugged, offering it out. "Go on. It's dead weight to me. Either it reacts or it doesn't."
He wasn't doing it out of kindness. Not really. To be honest, part of him hoped it would reject her, same as it had him or maybe even worse. Maybe she'd scream, or it would crack, or nothing would happen at all, and he'd feel better knowing he wasn't the only one Flux didn't care about.
Emma looked at the shard, then at him. Something in her expression shifted—uncertain, but not afraid. Slowly, she reached out and closed her fingers around it.
For a breath, nothing happened.
Then the Flux stirred.
It started as a hiss, soft and sharp like air escaping between teeth. The shard cracked—not shattered, but split—and pale threads of light curled from its surface, slithering into her skin, up her wrist and through her veins like white fire spun into silk.
Emma gasped, but it wasn't pain. It was awe.
Flux didn't fight her. It folded into her like it had been waiting.
Thierry stared, fingers curling into his palm. No screaming. No bleeding. No rejection. It just… accepted her. Just what is the difference between her and me?! I'm better than her...
Esther turned, catching the sound. Her eyes narrowed, tail lashing once behind her before she turned away and marched further ahead without a word. Thierry saw the tension in her back, the slight shift in her gait. She was pissed.
Lee glanced over from the rear. Said nothing. Just watched.
Emma blinked slowly, light still fading from her eyes. "I… I didn't think it would work."
"Neither did I," Thierry muttered, standing and brushing dirt from his coat. He couldn't look at her, not after seeing her get accepted by the flux. "Guess it likes you."
She rose too, carefully. "Why did you offer it?"
He exhaled through his nose, a bitter smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. "Because it was just going to rot with me..."
Emma looked at him, something soft in her gaze. Pity or maybe he was just imagining it. Either way, he hated it.
Before she could say anything else, Veron suddenly raised a hand. Esther had wandered too far ahead, nearly past a break in the treeline. "Stop," he said, voice cutting like cold steel. "Something's coming."
Everyone froze.
The air shifted—tightened.
A distant shriek sliced through the trees, high and reedy, followed by the sound of something massive tearing through the canopy above.
Thierry barely had time to look up before a shadow swept overhead.
A bird-like monster dove out of the sky, wings stretched wide, its feathers jagged like broken knives. Its talons gleamed as it descended, aiming straight for Esther.
Before it could reach her, one of Lee's axes flew past Thierry's ear with a sharp whistle, striking the creature's wing mid-dive. The monster shrieked again, tumbling sideways and crashing through a tree, branches snapping like bones.
Esther spun, spear raised, but the creature didn't stop—it scrambled to its feet, one wing dragging uselessly behind it, and launched back into the sky before anyone else could move. It left only a feather behind.
Lee stepped forward, retrieving the feather alongside his second axe with a grunt, his expression unchanged.
Veron watched the monster vanish into the clouds, his usual smirk gone. "It'll circle back," he said grimly. "They don't retreat unless they've already marked something."
Thierry swallowed hard, heart thudding. His fingers twitched near the hilt of his sword, not that it would've done a damn thing.
Emma moved closer to him without speaking, her bow now strung and ready. She looked more confused than scared.
Of course she didn't know what this meant.
Of course she'd still get accepted by the Flux while Thierry stood here feeling like a cracked glass pretending to hold water.
Veron looked at the group, serious now, his usual smug veneer stripped clean. "No more wandering off," he said to Esther, who didn't respond. "Everyone tight. Weapons ready."
Something was hunting.
And now it knew exactly where they were.