Ryvak leaned forward, voice low. "Alright. We all feel it. So let's stop pretending nothing's off." Asher looked up. The fire spat low embers, the light warping Ryvak's face into sharp, twitchy angles. "Someone killed the comms," Ryvak went on. He didn't blink. "And Asher—the antenna was right next to you." All eyes turned. Beth. Thorne. Both staring at him like they were just now realizing he didn't belong here. Asher didn't flinch, but the words settled in his gut like hot nails. "You serious? I didn't touch it." "Convenient," Thorne muttered. Beth crossed her arms. "And yet it was snapped clean. No impact marks. No weather damage. Just broken. And you were the closest." The silence dragged out long. Even the wind felt like it was holding its breath. Asher stood slowly. "You think I sabotaged our only way out?" "You tell us," Ryvak said. Beth took a step forward. "And let's not forget the transmission. The one calling someone a target. Not a squad. Not survivors. A target." "The real question is." said Ryvak. "Am I the target? I don't even know you man. Why are you coming after me?" he said with a bit of fear entering his voice.
Thorne's voice came quiet, steady. "The way I see it... none of us came from the same fireteam. We were scattered when the Hive hit. But Ryvak and I? We served together. I know him. I trust him." He didn't name names. But his eyes did the talking. "So what?" Asher said. "I wake up in the desert with a piece of alien rock stuck in my spine and suddenly I'm the traitor?" "You appeared under strange circumstances," Thorne said, his voice even but stripped of warmth. "And you've been a mystery since day one. You froze multiple times during our fights. Yet somehow you survive when many others more experienced and battle-hardened than you perished. We know you have Void-powers, and yet you never tell us what your aspect is. Everything you say and do is carefully guarded. Very suspicious. What are you hiding?" Asher felt heat climb up the back of his neck. "Because I was thinking. Because maybe I don't jump to impale foreign tech into my chest just to see what happens." "Enough," Beth said, stepping between them. But it wasn't enough. Asher could feel it. The split.
Thorne might follow orders, but the way he looked at Asher now? That wasn't trust. That was calculation. Like he was measuring how dangerous Asher really was. Ryvak had already made up his mind. That much was clear. Beth... Beth looked like she wanted to believe him. And hated that she couldn't. Beth's hand lingered on Thorne's shoulder a second too long. And Thorne... didn't pull away. Asher felt it in his chest like a hammer strike. Thorne finally exhaled. "We let command sort this out. That's the law." He stepped between Asher and Ryvak. "No one's dying tonight. We take shifts. We keep moving north." They all agreed. Not because they trusted each other—because they had no better option. Thorne stayed up. He didn't need rest like the rest of them now. Not since the shard changed him. Asher lay on his back, pretending to sleep. He could feel it in the way the others looked at him. The way their eyes lingered just a few seconds too long.
He could probably handle Ryvak. But Beth and Thorne? Too fast. Too trained. He mumbled something about needing space. They let him go. Nobody stopped him. Nobody cared to ask why. He climbed the northern ridge alone, boots dragging through the grit just loud enough to be heard. Loud enough to send a message. At the top, the wind slapped him clean. He crouched low and scanned the area. Bootprints. Not theirs. Too uniform. Too disciplined. A burn mark in the sand. A wrapper, half-buried. Someone had been here. Not long ago. No signal beacon. No gear. No ID. Whoever it was, they didn't want to be found. He couldn't shake the feeling—like something was out there. Watching. Waiting. Just far enough to stay out of sight. Empire wouldn't stay hidden like this. They'd have called for evac. Claimed survivors. This? This felt wrong.
He exhaled. No. Not Thorne. Didn't fit. Too rigid. Beth? Maybe. Ryvak? Rat-bastard was always smiling when he shouldn't be. The Stone in his spine gave a dull throb, like it was stirring in its sleep. "I know you're in there," he muttered. "You've been listening this whole time. Say something, damn it." Nothing. The silence stretched. A cold thought slipped in, slow and sharp. What if I did it? What if I broke the comms and just... forgot? He shook his head. No. That wasn't him. But the doubt didn't leave. He turned back. Camp was quiet. Ryvak was snoring. Too loud. Too hard. Asher slowed. Watched. Ryvak shifted—just a twitch—and a hand slipped back into his bedroll, pulling the flap closed. A second too slow. Asher's gaze dropped. Ration wrappers. Cherry bars. Salted meat. The good stuff. Torn open and tossed into the dark like garbage. He wasn't just stealing snacks. He was digging. Looking for something. Gear? Comm parts? Evidence?
Asher walked around the campfire, boots crunching louder now. Announcing himself. Ryvak didn't stir. Pretending. Alright, Ryvak. You want to act? Then I'll act too. Asher curled up in his bedroll, laid on his side. Eyes open. He watched the fire. Beth and Thorne were still gone. He wanted to believe they were scouting. Talking strategy. But deep down, he already knew. Minutes passed. Then voices—quiet, but clear. Beth: "You saw the damage. That wasn't from a fall. That was deliberate." Thorne: "We can't accuse without proof." "What if we wait too long? What if that Stone is controlling him?" Thorne didn't answer. Beth's voice dropped. "He's dangerous. You know it." "I stand by the rule of law," Thorne said at last. "We deliver him to command. They decide." Beth: "And if we never make it to the pickup point?" Another pause. Then Thorne again, firm: "We will make it. All of us." Asher didn't move. Didn't breathe. He curled his fingers into the sand, let it bite beneath his nails. By the time they returned to camp, he was already zipped up, motionless. Pretending. Just like Ryvak. His thoughts spun. What if it was me? What if it was Beth? Too quick to accuse. Too smooth. What if it was Ryvak? Caught digging through their things like a rodent. He kept his eyes on the fire. No one slept well that night.