The snow fell softer now, but the silence was worse than any storm. The four of them trudged through the ruins, boots crunching in the powder, their breath fogging the air. The fox-sized Mythbornes still lingered at the edges of sight, but for the moment they kept their distance, their laughter low and chittering in the dark.
It was the silence between the Timers that pressed hardest, though. The two loudmouths whispered to each other up ahead, their voices bouncing off the hollow shells of houses. They joked nervously, cursed the cold, argued about whether the metropolis would even have shelter. Every sound they made grated against Ashfall's ears.
He walked near the back, his pistol loose in his hand, and his eyes scanning the rooftops. Silence is better than company. But of course, they won't let me have that.
Sure enough, Ryn fell back beside him. His false smile was there, as steady as the crunch of snow.
"You're quiet," Ryn said, his tone light and casual. "Too quiet for someone just thrown into hell."
Ashfall didn't look at him. "Talking wastes energy."
Ryn chuckled softly. "Or maybe you're just the type who doesn't trust anyone. I can respect that." He let the words hang for a moment, then added, "Name's Ryn, if you forgot. Might as well get introductions out of the way before this world swallows us."
Ashfall finally glanced at him, his expression flat. "Ashfall." He left it at that.
"Interesting name," Ryn mused. "Sounds like something out of a story. Not that stories matter here." He kicked at a chunk of frozen wood as they passed. "But tell me, Ashfall... what do you think these twelve worlds looked like before the Clocks appeared? Before the Stars started driving everyone mad?"
Ashfall's lip curled slightly. Before? Who cares about before? The only world that matters is the one you're standing in, and this one wants us dead. Out loud, he said, "Doesn't really matter... they're all broken now."
Ryn tilted his head, studying him. "You don't wonder at all? Cities like these, maybe they were alive once. People laughing, markets full, children running in the streets. Now it's just… silence and monsters." His voice lowered. "I like to imagine it. Makes me think there's something left worth fighting for."
Ashfall's response was dry. "Imagination gets you killed."
For once, Ryn's smile twitched. Just a fraction. Then he laughed softly and tapped the corner of his eye. The tattoo in his pupil shifted when Ashfall looked, his hour hand was already pointing at the one.
"Noticed?" Ryn asked, voice sly. "Stage one. Got my first ability already. Feels different when the clock moves, doesn't it? Like you're carrying something extra in your blood."
Ashfall felt a faint pulse in his own eye, his minute hand creeping forward notch by notch with each kill earlier. He said nothing.
Ryn went on. "What's yours at?"
Ashfall finally met his gaze. "As you can see, not far enough to matter."
Ryn smirked. "Maybe you just need more practice."
Before Ashfall could retort, the two loudmouths fell back to join them, their laughter fading as they noticed the tension. The scarred one clapped his hands together, trying to warm them. "So, what are you two plotting back here? Sharing secrets?"
"Talking about the past," Ryn said smoothly. "Or maybe the future. Depends how long we live."
Ashfall opened his mouth to reply, but the sound that cut him off wasn't human.
A wet, tearing laugh ripped through the street, followed by the crash of splintering wood and stone. A wall exploded outward, showering snow and debris.
Something huge emerged.
It towered nearly twice their height. It had a body of black, liquid flesh that rippled and squelched with each movement. Its arms were grotesquely long, jointed wrong, bending and twisting as if the bones inside had liquefied. Its chest gaped open into a cavernous maw, a mouth that stretched downward until it almost dragged in the snow, lined with jagged, shifting teeth that clicked together like shattered glass.
The Core Mythborne's bubbling and wet laughter shook the air.
"Move!" Ashfall barked, shoving himself sideways as the creature lunged. The ground shook with the impact, snow spraying high as its massive arms slammed down.
The four scattered, scrambling for cover behind ruined walls and broken carts.
The creature's head jerked and then twisted slowly, until its jaw cracked around with a wet snap. It turned a full one hundred eighty degrees, the gaping mouth grinning at them upside down as black drool dripped into the snow.
The scarred one cursed loudly. "That's not natural!"
"No shit," Ashfall muttered, knife already in his hand. His heartbeat thundered, but his face remained cold. Fight or die. That's all this place offers.
Before they could regroup, another sound rose. It was a skittering, dragging tide of bodies.
Ashfall spun to see them. Hundreds of Minor Mythbornes, crawling from every alley, spilling from shattered doorways, dragging themselves across roofs. Their tiny arms reached forward in unison, their sobbing faces twisted into wide, hungry grins now. They moved like a black wave, filling the street, and hemming them in from behind.
"Fuck this," Ashfall muttered. "Now we're surrounded..."
The scarred one's voice cracked. "We're dead...! We're fucking dead!"
The wiry one screamed at him, "Shut up and fight!" But even his voice wavered when he saw how many eyes glowed in the dark.
Ashfall's thoughts raced. Core in front. Horde behind. No cover worth a damn. No exit. Unless—
Then Ryn stepped forward.
His grin widened, and for the first time there was no friendliness in it, only a strange delight. "Time to test this out."
He raised his hand, and the clock in his eye pulsed. A shimmer spread from his fingers. A distortion in the air, like heat rising off asphalt. It warped the snow, bent the shadows, and in the next instant the wave of Minor Mythbornes staggered. Their bodies convulsed, their little arms flailing as if they were being pulled sideways by some invisible tide.
"Go!" Ryn shouted. "Now!"
They didn't hesitate. The four bolted through the gap his ability tore open, sprinting across the cracked street. The Core howled behind them, slamming its massive arms down again, but the blow landed just short, sending shards of ice slicing past their backs.
Ashfall ran, his lungs burning, his boots slipping on the frozen ground. The sound of the horde clawing after them filled the air, joined by the bubbling laughter of the Core.
And then the wiry one tripped. Minor Mythbornes swarmed him instantly, crawling up his legs, biting and tearing with tiny teeth. He screamed, flailing, and grabbed desperately at the nearest thing; Ryn's ankle.
"Help me! Please!" His voice broke, raw terror tearing through it. "Ryn, pull me up!"
Ryn looked down. For a heartbeat, his face held that same false smile. Then it twisted. His eyes burned with something darker, colder. His lip curled, and he hissed through clenched teeth, "Let go."
Before the wiry one could plead again, Ryn raised his pistol and fired a single round into his skull.
The scream cut off instantly. The Mythbornes swarmed the corpse, dragging it into the tide.
Ashfall caught the scene in the corner of his vision as he ran. He didn't slow, didn't speak, but his jaw tightened. So that's your real face, snake. Good to know.
The scarred one didn't notice, because he was too busy running, too busy screaming at the monsters closing in behind them.
They tore through the ruins, weaving between collapsed buildings, the metropolis looming further away again with every step. The air was filled with laughter and sobbing, the sound of claws on stone, and the guttural roar of the Core.
Ashfall kept his eyes forward, his mind was cold. Trust no one. Not the monsters. Not the soldiers. Not even the ones who smile at you. Especially not them.
And with the city shrinking in the distance, its towers still jagged against the gray sky, he knew the real nightmare was only beginning.