Light came quietly.
Golden didn't notice it at first. He was half-awake, body stiff, senses dulled by exhaustion. It wasn't until warmth brushed against his eyelids that he stirred.
He opened his eyes slowly.
Morning.
The violet sky hadn't vanished with the night. Instead, it had softened—lighter, calmer, streaked with pale hues that reminded him faintly of dawn back home. Strange suns—two of them—hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the ruins.
Golden exhaled.
He was still alive
Carefully, he sat up. His body protested immediately, muscles aching, joints stiff from sleeping upright against cold stone. The wound on his chest tugged painfully, reminding him it hadn't truly healed
He pressed a hand against it.
Still closed.
Still sore.
"Guess I didn't imagine that," he murmured.
Golden stood and stretched slowly, testing his balance. He felt weak, but not helpless. Weak enough to die if he made a mistake—strong enough to keep moving if he didn't.
Outside the shelter, the ruins looked different in daylight.
Less monstrous
More… ancient.
Stone towers rose in the distance, broken and half-sunk into the ground. Metallic structures—smooth and unfamiliar—floated silently in the air, suspended by systems he couldn't begin to understand. Vines crept over steel. Moss grew between glowing seams.
This world didn't belong to one era.
It was a graveyard of many.
Golden stepped out cautiously, eyes scanning every direction. Morning didn't mean safety. If anything, it meant visibility—for him and whatever hunted here.
He picked a direction and began walking.
Not aimlessly this time. He followed paths that looked worn, stones smoothed as if something—or someone—had passed through before. The thought made his heartbeat quicken.
After several minutes, he noticed it.
Marks.
Faint, but unmistakable.
Scratches on the stone. Straight lines. Too deliberate to be claws. Too uneven to be natural cracks.
Golden crouched, studying them closely.
"…Footsteps?"
They were old. Not fresh. But not ancient either.
Human-sized.
His throat tightened.
Someone else had been here.
The realization sent a strange mix of relief and fear through him. He wasn't alone—but that didn't mean he was safe. Whoever made those marks could be alive or dead.
Golden stood slowly, scanning the ruins again. The world felt different now. Larger. Heavier. As if unseen eyes might be watching from behind shattered walls and floating platforms.
He followed the marks for a short distance.
They ended abruptly.
No body. No blood. No signs of a struggle.
Just… gone.
Golden stared at the empty stone for a long moment.
Did they find shelter?
Did something find them?
There was no way to know.
A low sound echoed far away—deep and distant, like something massive shifting in its sleep. Golden flinched, instincts screaming.
He stepped back.
"Not yet," he whispered. "I'm not ready."
He turned away from the trail and headed in the opposite direction. If someone else was alive, he needed to survive long enough to meet them—on his terms.
As he walked, something strange happened.
A faint sensation stirred in his chest.
Not pain
Awareness
Like his body was quietly paying attention to the world around him—distances, movement, sound. His steps adjusted without him thinking about it. He avoided loose stones. Chose paths with better cover.
Golden slowed.
"…That's new."
The feeling faded as quickly as it came, leaving him unsettled.
He didn't understand this world.
He didn't understand himself anymore either.
But one thing was clear.
He had survived the first night.
Someone else might have too
And this forsaken world was only just beginning to reveal its teeth.