The Wastes didn't forgive mistakes. Reid was about to make his first.
Reid Veylan tightened the cracked leather straps of his scavenger harness until they bit into his shoulders. The last buckle clicked, and he gave it an extra tug. No loose ends. No noise. Beyond the outpost walls, silence could save your life; any metal rattle was a dinner bell for what lurked in the Wastes. He forced a steady breath. You've got this. Don't screw it up. If I pass, my sister gets her medicine. My family eats more than scraps.
Behind him, Stonehollow Outpost towered like a dying sentinel. From afar it looked strong, but up close rust streaked the walls, patchwork welds oozed corrosion, and watchtowers leaned as if they were tired. Smoke curled weakly from chimneys, and the faint cries of hungry children carried even here. This isn't just survival. It's a chance to make things better.
Beyond the wall stretched the Wastes—vast, broken, and patient.
Reid stood in line with a dozen other initiates. Most were older, broader, and wore scavenged armor that fit. He wore a mismatched vest, loose greaves, and a jacket too thin for the chill. His knife hung awkwardly at his hip. They look like fighters. I look like bait.
Captain Ryn Holt paced before them in flawless ERG armor that drank in the morning light. "Stay together. Call threats the moment you see them. If you freeze when the Wastes bite, you're already dead." Her visor turned toward Reid for a heartbeat too long. His gut clenched.
An elbow nudged him. Mara Kess stood beside him, spear balanced casually. "You look like you're going to puke."
"Thanks," Reid muttered.
"Relax. If something tries to chew you, I'll stab it first. Can't let my favorite pack mule die."
"Favorite?"
"You complain the least," she said with a grin, eyes flashing teasingly. "Plus, you're kind of cute when you're terrified."
Heat crept into his cheeks, and he quickly looked away. Mara smirked.
From the back, Jorik Vale snorted. "Cute won't save you out there. Hope you can do more than look scared, boy."
Reid's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
The gate groaned open, metal screaming against metal. The smell of dust, oil, and something rotten drifted in. Beyond, the Wastes stretched under a sickly sun, ruins clawing at the horizon like jagged teeth. Holt raised her fist.
"Move."
They marched in tight formation. The first mile was always the worst—quiet enough to hear your own heartbeat, long enough to imagine what might be stalking you. Even raiders avoided this stretch at dawn, but the silence felt more like a dare than safety.
Reid scanned every doorway, every rooftop. Skeletons of buildings loomed, windows like empty sockets. Faded signs whispered of a past no one remembered. His boots crunched on brittle concrete, every sound too loud.
He counted them—one, two, three—to stop his hands from shaking.
"Counting again?" Mara asked softly beside him.
He nodded.
"Whenever you count, I know you're scared."
"Is there a time out here I shouldn't be?"
"Sure," she said with a grin. "When you're dead."
He almost smiled. Her voice made the fear easier to carry.
They passed a toppled tanker, its hull split wide, rust-foam spilling like frozen vomit. Black moss climbed the metal, pulsing faintly.
"Skin-rot spores," Jorik warned, scars cutting his jaw. "Get close, you drown in your own blood."
Reid shivered. Every step's a gamble.
The air turned sour. Holt's fist shot up, halting the line.
Ahead, a twisted stump rose from the asphalt, its bark crawling with black vines that swayed though no wind blew. Bones littered the base—armor fragments clinging to some, others picked clean.
"Decay nest," Jorik muttered. "Captain, recommend—"
"Too late," Holt snapped.
A vine lashed out, coiling around a woman's leg. She screamed as it dragged her toward the hollow. Two more whipped out, binding her arms.
"Axes high!" Holt barked.
The line erupted. Blades swung, ichor hissed. Reid froze as the girl was dragged closer. Move, Reid. Or she dies because you froze.
Mara's spear cut a vine inches from his face. "Move, Reid!"
He dove forward, hacking wildly. Acid sprayed his gloves, burning his skin. Pain shot up his arm, but adrenaline drowned it out. He slashed again and again until the vine recoiled. The girl hit the ground gasping.
"Bomb!" Jorik yelled, lighting a glass sphere.
"Clear!" Holt barked.
The group scattered as the firebomb shattered in the trunk. Blue flames roared, vines shrieking as they curled inward. Acrid smoke filled the alley.
When it cleared, the stump was a blackened husk. Two initiates were dead, three burned. Holt's voice was cold. "Pack wounds. Keep moving."
Mara brushed Reid's arm as they regrouped. "Not bad, clumsy. You might survive." Her lips curved in the faintest teasing smile.
The sun climbed higher, turning shards of glass into blinding knives. They entered a canyon of leaning towers streaked with soot. The air here felt wrong—heavy, waiting. Wind died. Sound strangled itself.
Reid's gut twisted. Something's here.
Holt's voice crackled over the comm. "Stay sharp. Something's stalking us."
A metallic scrape echoed above. The initiates froze. Silence thickened.
Then it stepped into view—a Shade Hound. Skeletal frame, skin stretched taut, ember eyes burning in hollow sockets. Black saliva dripped from its fanged jaws.
"Mid-class!" Holt snapped. "Arc back, firing line!"
Rifles roared. Bullets punched holes that closed seconds later. The hound snarled and surged forward. Two initiates screamed as it ripped them apart. Mara hurled her spear, grazing its flank, buying seconds.
Reid's muscles locked. The hound's burning eyes pinned him. Move. Move, damn it!
A voice slid into his head, cold and intimate. "Do you wish to live?"
Time slowed.
"Answer."
"Yes!"
Fire exploded in his chest, veins lighting up. The hound lunged. Reid rolled beneath its claws, rising with unnatural speed. His knife slashed its throat, black ichor spraying. The beast howled, snapping at him. Panic fueled his strikes, each faster than the last. What's happening to me?!
The voice chuckled. "Faster."
He ducked, stabbed up into its jaw. Mara snatched her spear and drove it through the creature's eye. The hound shuddered and collapsed.
Dark mist rose from the corpse, spiraling into Reid. It burned as it filled him.
[Essence Absorbed: +5]
[Core Status: Red – Awakening]
Whisper:You're weak, but not useless. Feed me again.
Reid gasped, clutching his chest. Mara grabbed his arm. "Your eyes—what happened to you?"
Holt approached, visor unreadable. "Interesting trick. Retrieve shards. Then we talk."
Jorik's stare was sharp. "That wasn't normal."
"I don't know what it was," Reid said.
A faint distortion flickered across his vision: [Quest Pending…]. He blinked, and it was gone.
The voice curled back into his skull. "The first taste is free. The next will cost you."
Reid's breath hitched. He glanced around, but no one else reacted. Mara's eyes lingered on him longer than she needed to.
"You're pale," she said softly. "You sure you're okay?"
"I… yeah. I think so," he lied.
"Then keep it together. We're not done yet."
Holt's voice cut through. "Form up. We move."
Reid fell back into formation, the burning in his chest gnawing at him. Whatever had happened, he didn't understand it—only that it was inside him now, and it wasn't leaving.