Ashfall kept his eyes on the faint trail of smoke still curling upward in the distance, the pale sky turning it into nothing more than a thin, gray smear. He shifted his weight against the broken wall they had been using as cover and finally broke the silence.
"So," he said slowly, "are we really doing this? Heading to that signal flare?"
Calethia didn't answer right away. She stood with her arms crossed, the hood of her cloak pulled forward so that her expression was half hidden, but her eyes flicked in the same direction he was looking.
"You sound like you've already made up your mind," she said flatly.
Ashfall gave a dry laugh that had no humor in it. "Last time I followed one of those damn things, it didn't exactly end well. Thought I'd point that out before we march right into another disaster."
She tilted her head slightly, studying him. "What do you mean? What happened?"
For a moment, he hesitated. Part of him wanted to keep his mouth shut, but the words slipped out anyway. "There was a man. He was a Timer Agent, same as us. Looked broken, sitting there like his mind had already lost to the madness. Then his clock went wild, spinning out of control, and before we knew it, he wasn't a man anymore. Just another monster. And there were others with me then: Ryn and Deryl."
Calethia's eyes sharpened. "And?"
Ashfall clenched his jaw. He could feel her gaze boring into him, searching for cracks, demanding details he didn't want to give. She still had his weapons. He still didn't know what kind of person she really was beneath the mask of composure. If he told her everything, she might decide he was a liability, or worse.
"And nothing," he muttered, shrugging it off. "You want the full story, you'll have to wait. Doesn't really matter now."
Her mouth tightened, but before she could push him further, a low tremor rolled across the ground. The distant sound of countless footsteps, overlapping and uneven, grew louder by the second. The laughter of Minor Mythbornes carried through the ruined streets, high-pitched and grating, echoing against stone and steel like some deranged chorus.
Calethia's hand went to her weapon without thinking. Ashfall cursed under his breath and leaned against the wall, straining to listen.
"Guess story time's over," he said.
She nodded once, her face hardening, and glanced toward the smoke again. "We circle around and avoid the main streets. From there we watch, decide if it's worth getting closer."
Ashfall let out a long sigh. "Of course. From 'we shouldn't even bother' to 'let's go check it out' in record time. Should've known you'd drag me along."
"You don't have to come," she said coolly.
He barked a laugh. "Yeah, sure. Walk around out here unarmed while you hold all the firepower? Not exactly an option, bestie."
Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't reply, already moving ahead with steady, purposeful strides. He followed, muttering curses under his breath, each one directed at her, at the flare, at the damn system that had thrown him into this nightmare.
The ruins grew thicker the closer they came to the flare's origin. Whole sections of houses had collapsed inward, and streets were nothing but snow. Above it all, the first Core Mythborne moved with its grotesque, stretched frame, towering high enough to peek over rooftops. Each step it took cracked through the remains of walls and sent clouds of snowy dust spiraling upward.
Ashfall ducked beneath a hanging support beam and risked a glance. Behind the slendering creature trailed a tide of Minor Mythbornes, their bodies jerking and stumbling, and their faces split by wild grins that never faded. The sound of their laughter made his skin crawl.
And then came the second one. The one he remembered from before, with the grotesque jaw that stretched so far down it nearly brushed the ground. Its arrival shook the street, its immense form weaving through what little remained of the ruined district. Wherever it passed, buildings toppled, stones shattered, and Mythbornes—Minor ones unlucky enough to be underfoot—were crushed like insects.
Calethia stopped, holding up a hand. Ashfall came up beside her and hissed, "Two Cores. Really? We're still walking toward that flare?"
"They're not moving toward us," she replied calmly, watching the devastation. "Something else is pulling them."
Ashfall followed her gaze. The monsters were heading directly toward the place where the signal had been fired. He swallowed hard.
"They're attracted to fear," he muttered, mostly to himself. "Someone out there's terrified enough to draw in an entire horde. Great idea to go there..."
Calethia didn't deny it. She adjusted her grip on her weapon and began leading them through a side street, the broken windows above them rattling with each thunderous step of the Core Mythbornes.
The further they went, the stranger it became. Smaller clusters of Minor Mythbornes drifted nearby, emerging from alleys and half-collapsed buildings. At first Ashfall tensed, expecting them to attack. But more often than not, they passed by, their grotesque faces twisted with the same endless grin, ignoring him as if he wasn't even there.
It made his skin crawl. Then it hit him: Fear.
They weren't going after him because he wasn't afraid, at least not enough. But he also wasn't armed, and that realization pressed down on him like a weight. He could feel his pulse rising, and with it came the cold suspicion that if he lost control of his fear, if it spilled out too much, those things would turn on him in a heartbeat.
He clenched his fists and forced his breathing steady. Don't show it. Don't let them smell it. You're already prey without your weapons; no need to look like it too.
Calethia glanced back at him once, her eyes unreadable. He didn't bother hiding the glare he shot back at her.
The ground shook harder than before, and then came a sound unlike any other. It wasn't laughter, or the crash of ruins collapsing. It was a strike, a single deafening blow that reverberated through the air and rattled every bone in his body. Ashfall staggered, his hands flying to his ears, the sound like iron grinding against his skull.
Calethia grimaced, covering her own ears as snow dust rained down from the shattered ceiling above them.
Ashfall's eyes snapped upward, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. The Clock of Apocalypse loomed above the broken sky, and its great hand had shifted with a sound that still echoed in his chest. The hour hand now pointed to the one.
He stared, his stomach sinking as a cold understanding spread through him. Each movement of that monstrous clock wasn't just a mark of time. It was a reminder; a countdown and a promise that things would only get worse.
Ashfall lowered his hands slowly, breathing hard, and muttered to himself, "One step closer. Just what we needed."
Calethia's expression was tight, her usual composure strained by the echo still vibrating through the world around them. She finally spoke, her voice quieter than usual. "The clock has moved."
Ashfall laughed bitterly. "Yeah. And I'm guessing that's not good news for either of us."
The distant laughter of the Mythbornes rose again, as if in response.