The ruins gave us shelter, but not peace. Wind threaded through broken stone, carrying the stench of husk ichor and scorched earth. Villagers huddled close, whispering prayers that vanished into the night. I leaned against a shattered wall, scarf drawn tight around my mouth, trying to slow the burn in my lungs.
Older me remembers—the desert night was never silent. Not truly. Beneath the quiet, something always shifted.
Nysera paced like a caged beast, golden eyes gleaming faintly. Her claws clicked softly against stone as she muttered, half to herself. "Too open. Too much scent. If they follow—" She stopped, ears pricking to the wind. "They'll follow."
Zero sat with his back to a pillar, blades laid neatly across his knees. His expression didn't change, but I caught the faint twitch of his fingers—restless, calculating. "Then we move before dawn," he said flatly.
Liora knelt with the limping child, her hands glowing with pale gold as she eased his pain. The boy slept fitfully, his breath ragged but steadying. Liora's shoulders sagged with exhaustion, though her face stayed calm. Her light held steady for the boy even as her own strength dimmed.
Laura sat apart, hourglass pendant resting in her lap, rings of blue-gold flickering faintly in her eyes. She stared at the sand where the husks had fallen, lips pressed tight. The Path weighed on her, though she didn't yet understand its full burden.
"Stop staring," Nysera snapped suddenly, turning toward her. "If you have strength, use it. If not, rest. Don't just sit there."
Laura's gaze lifted, steady despite her trembling hands. "I saw more," she whispered. "Not husks. Something deeper. Beneath us."
The air tightened. Even Zero's fingers stilled.
"Beneath?" I asked, stepping closer.
Laura touched the sand, and for a heartbeat, grains froze midair around her fingers. "Something moves under the ruins. Watching."
The ground answered her.
A low tremor rippled through the floor. Dust sifted down from jagged beams. Villagers gasped, clutching one another. Then the stones groaned—deep, hollow, like something waking.
The earth split.
Sand erupted in a spray as a hulking form clawed upward. Its body was half-stone, half-rotted flesh, face fractured by cracks glowing faintly with mirrored light. Not husk. Not beast. Something older, bound beneath the ruin and now loosed.
We barely had time to draw breath before it lunged.
Nysera darted in, claws striking sparks across its stone hide. Zero's knife whistled, vanishing into a glowing crack—light flared, and the creature howled. I split into echoes, flanking, blades striking in mirrored rhythm, searching for weakness.
The beast slammed down its fist, stone shattering in a shockwave. Villagers screamed as rubble cascaded. Laura's pendant flared—time bent. The falling debris slowed just enough for them to scramble aside.
"Hold the line!" Liora cried, golden threads unfurling into a radiant barrier. The beast crashed against it, the impact rattling through her bones. Blood beaded at her lip, but she stood unbroken.
We struck together—clumsy, chaotic, desperate. My echoes blurred into Nysera's fury, Zero's blades cut deep where stone cracked, Liora's light burned holes into the creature's rotted flesh. Laura's trembling voice shouted warnings, guiding us away from death by heartbeats.
Older me remembers—it wasn't victory that mattered here. It was survival. The ruins demanded blood, and we gave it, piece by piece, until the beast at last collapsed in a heap of shattered stone and ichor.
Silence again. Heavy. Fragile.
Villagers clung to one another, eyes wide with awe and terror. Nysera wiped black ichor from her claws, muttering, "Too many shadows." Zero sheathed his blades without a word. Liora slumped, drained but steady. And Laura—Laura trembled, staring at her hands as though they no longer belonged to her.
The Path had shown us a glimpse of what lay deeper. Shadows beneath the sand. And we were only at the beginning.
Older me remembers—we should have left the ruins that night. We should have fled. But the Path never lets go, and what waits below does not forgive the living.