The boy's sobs echoed long after the shadows withdrew.He sat curled near the fire, his crutch lying forgotten on the stone. The black marks around his throat looked like ink stains that would never wash away. His chest heaved in shallow gulps of air, each one as shaky as if he were afraid even of breathing too loudly.
No one moved to comfort him.
The circle of survivors was brittle now, like glass left too long in the cold—ready to splinter with the slightest touch.
The mother cradled her child closer, her arms wound tight around the boy as if she feared I might tear him from her grasp next. Her eyes flickered toward me and then away, again and again, weighing a question she could not bring herself to voice: Was I the greater danger, or the one protecting them from it?
The old man muttered under his breath, a hoarse, steady rasp that had not stopped since the betrayal. Words I could not make out, curses too old to matter—or maybe prayers, though none would be answered here.
The girl with the crowbar sat rigid, knuckles pale as bone, torn between watching me and watching the boy who had nearly died. Fear and pity wrestled across her face until both emotions hollowed her into something gaunt and sharp.
And Dev? Dev just sat there, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the fire as though if he stared hard enough, he could convince himself the world outside its circle of light did not exist. Pretending not to notice how the others leaned, ever so slightly, away from me.
Not from the night.From me.
✦
The trial hadn't ended. The system's message still pulsed faintly above us, the glowing words cold and merciless.
[ Trial of Trust: Ongoing. ][ Condition: At least one forgotten must choose to stay by your side until dawn. ][ Current Trust Value: Fragile. ]
Fragile.
The gods could've just written pathetic and it would've meant the same.
I stared into the flames, listening to the faint hiss as sap inside the wood boiled and burst. My blade rested across my knees, shadows curled faintly along its edge like smoke that had forgotten how to vanish.
The ink inside me wasn't calm. It writhed, trembling beneath my skin like a caged beast that tasted blood and wanted more.
And for the first time, I wondered—terribly, quietly—if it had been me who lashed out at the boy… or if the ink had acted of its own will.
✦
The old man spat into the dirt. The sound was loud in the stillness, like a stone dropped in a silent pool.
"This is madness," he rasped. "Sitting here waiting for dawn as if the gods care. We'll all die like chickens penned for slaughter."
The girl bristled immediately. "And what do you want to do? March into Kael's camp and beg them to finish us? They'll cut us down before we take two steps outside the plaza."
"Better them than him," the old man snapped, pointing a crooked finger at me. His nails were yellowed, cracked, trembling—but the hatred in his eyes was steady. "At least with Kael, we know where the blade falls. This one—" He jerked his head toward me, then at the boy wheezing faintly by the fire. "—this one brings storms even the gods don't command."
I did not move. I did not blink.
If I answered, the system would twist my words.If I defended myself, it would sound like desperation.And if I threatened him…
…then I would prove him right.
So I sat in silence. And the shadows whispered at my feet, coiling like serpents waiting to strike.
✦
The mother's voice finally cut through, thin but steady. "He saved us. Twice now. You can't deny that."
The old man barked laughter so bitter it sounded like phlegm in his throat. "Saved? Saved from what? From shadows we didn't see, from enemies only he commands? You think the gods will look kindly on that? Look at the trial. It doesn't ask us to survive. It asks us to trust. Trust him. The Bug. The anomaly." His pipe jabbed against the stone with each word, sharp little cracks like nails into a coffin. "Tell me, girl. Do you trust him?"
The mother looked down. Her arms tightened around her child. Her lips parted once, twice—but no words came. She turned her head aside.
Her silence was louder than any denial.
[ Trust Value: Declining. ]
The system's glow was merciless.
I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly.Of course.
✦
Dev leaned close, his whisper rough against the edge of my ear. "Reed, you can't just sit there like a statue. They're turning on you."
"I know."
"Then do something. Say something."
I cracked one eye open, watching the flames crawl across a half-burned log. "Like what? 'Please, everyone, don't betray me before dawn'? Sounds inspiring."
Dev groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Sometimes I wonder if you're trying to get erased."
"Sometimes," I admitted, "so do I."
The ink pulsed beneath my skin. A strange rhythm. Not quite a heartbeat. Almost like… laughter.
✦
The girl with the crowbar suddenly spoke, her voice thin but firm enough to cut the silence.
"I… I trust him."
Every head turned.
She flinched, but she didn't stop. Her knuckles whitened on the crowbar until it looked like the metal might snap. "He didn't have to save us back there. He didn't have to throw himself into the shadows. But he did. Twice. I don't care if the gods hate him. I don't care if the system calls him a bug. He's the only reason we're still breathing."
[ Trust Acknowledged. ][ Trial Progress: 41%. ]
The glow pulsed across the circle like a heartbeat.
The old man scowled, muttering curses. The boy turned his face into the shadows, shame burning across his cheeks. The mother whispered something too soft for me to hear.
But for the first time all night, a flicker of warmth stirred in my chest. One spark. One fragile flame.
Maybe enough to last until dawn.
✦
But the system never left things simple.
The fire guttered low, shadows pressing tighter against the edges of the plaza. My own darkness curled close, restless, as if shielding me. Yet beneath the crackle of flames, I heard something else.
A whisper.
Not from the survivors. Not from Dev.
From the shadows themselves.
It wasn't words at first—just shapes, echoes, murmurs slithering along the bones of thought. But then, impossibly, the noise sharpened.
"…he will fall…"
My breath caught.
I scanned the circle. No one reacted. They hadn't heard it.
The ink pulsed again—one hard throb that shook through my ribs.
"…trust is a blade… sharpened to cut the hand that holds it…"
I gripped my sword tighter, whispering under my breath. "Not real."
Dev glanced at me. "What?"
"Nothing," I lied.
But the shadows hissed again, curling at my feet like snakes.
✦
The old man shifted suddenly, creaking to his feet. His pipe clattered to the stone.
"I won't sit here waiting for the knife. If dawn wants me, it'll find me walking."
The girl stood, blocking his path with her crowbar. "If you leave the circle, the system might count it as betrayal."
"Then let it," he spat. "Better I betray him than let his curse swallow me whole."
The system shimmered faintly in the air.
[ Potential Betrayal Detected. ]
I stood as well, shadows stretching long and jagged across the stone. My voice was calm, too calm.
"Sit. Down."
The old man froze. His eyes narrowed, and for a moment I thought he might test me.
The fire popped. The silence stretched.
Then, muttering, he lowered himself back onto the stone.
The system's glow faded.
But the damage was done.
The firelight revealed the truth more clearly than any divine message: there wasn't trust left in this circle. Only fear, suspicion, and the fragile thread of one girl's desperate faith.
✦
The hours dragged. My eyes burned with exhaustion, but I did not dare close them. If I slept, the whispers might not wait.
The shadows moved strangely now. Not just curling protectively. Not just waiting for my command.
Sometimes they stretched toward the others. Sometimes they recoiled from me, as though I was no longer their master at all.
And sometimes… sometimes I swore they whispered in voices I almost recognized.
"…you were not meant to exist…""…rewrite and be rewritten…""…the Bug has teeth…"
I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling the ink thrum like a second heartbeat.
Was this my power?Or had I only ever been a vessel?
✦
When the sky finally began to pale with the faintest touch of dawn, I almost didn't believe it.
The system's glow sharpened above us, words cutting across the dawn-light like frost.
[ Trial of Trust: Pending Resolution. ][ Current Trust Value: Fragile. ]
Pending resolution. Not over yet.
Because the trial wasn't just about surviving the night.
It was about surviving what came after.
And the shadows were still whispering.