CRACK. CLANG. CREEAAAK.
The barricade shifted with a low groan, metal scraping against metal. Amara winced as her fingers curled around the edge of a rusted steel beam, grit and grime rubbing into her gloves. The taste of old copper filled the back of her throat. She gave it another yank, gritting her teeth as the frame gave way with a hollow clang that echoed far too loud for her liking.
"That's the last of it," she muttered, tossing the twisted frame aside. It hit the ground with a dull, hollow thud that rang through the crumbling hallway like a warning bell. Her eyes darted to the doorway, watching the empty corridor beyond.
No movement. No sound.
Behind her, Kieran knelt by the campfire, one arm resting on his bent knee, his other hand poking the embers with a bit of rebar. The faint glow flickered against his face, sharpening the hard edges of his jawline and casting his eyes in shadow. Wisps of gray smoke curled upward, thin at first but growing thicker, more deliberate. The smoke trailed toward the open window, sucked out into the orange-streaked sky.
"You sure about this?" Amara asked, giving the rising smoke a wary glance. "A signal like this could be seen for miles. And if this whole place lights up, well…" Her eyes flicked to the cracked, crumbling walls of the room. "We're stuck in a giant matchbox."
Kieran didn't answer at first. He leaned back, his gaze locked on the smoke as it twisted and curled into the air. "If the others are out there, they'll see it," he said at last. His eyes didn't move from the smoke, like he was reading something only he could see. "And if it draws something nasty, we'll handle it."
"'We'll handle it,'" Amara repeated dryly, crouching beside him. Her sniper rifle rested on her lap, her fingers tapping the metal frame in slow, rhythmic beats. "Yeah, sure. No big deal."
She stared at the smoke a little longer, unease crawling along her spine. It was too easy to imagine it as a beacon for every hungry thing out there. She glanced at him, sharp but not unkind. "Five days, Kieran. Five days, and nothing."
"Yeah," Kieran muttered, eyes on the smoke. He jabbed the fire with the rebar, letting sparks pop and crackle. "But we have to stay."
She didn't answer right away. Her eyes lingered on the smoke, watching it curl into the air. The wind wasn't moving, but the smoke twisted. Not randomly. Deliberately. It pulled in the direction of the distant fog.
"Idiot," she muttered, glancing down at her rifle. She slid the bolt back, checked the chamber, and snapped it shut. "Besides, someone's gotta babysit the big guy with the shield." She flashed him a sly grin. "Can't have you wandering off and getting eaten."
"Funny," Kieran said, his lips curling into a small, rare smile. He pulled his shield into place, the weight of it resting on his arm like it had always belonged there. The sigil on its face was faint but present, pulsing softly. "For what it's worth, Amara, I'm glad you stayed."
Silence settled between them. The only sound was the soft crackle of the fire, the distant hum of the rain outside, and the hollow plink, plink, plink of black goo rain dripping on shattered glass.
"What's with this rain, anyway?" Amara muttered, glancing out the window. Her eyes followed the way the black liquid trailed down the glass in jagged streams, thicker than water, like oil that never stopped running. "Feels like the whole world's bleeding."
"Maybe it is," Kieran muttered. He watched the rain too, his eyes distant. "Place like this, wouldn't surprise me."
They both watched. Neither of them moved.
Later That Night
Amara lay on her stomach, her rifle perched at the edge of the broken window. Her scope clicked into place, and she peered through it, breath slow and steady. The black rain made it hard to see, but she had a clear line of sight on the forest below.
Movement.
Her heart stilled.
Her scope tracked the source. Her breath caught as her crosshairs landed on something moving just beyond the trees. It was… wrong. The silhouette was too long, its limbs bent at unnatural angles. Long, pale arms stretched down to its knees, its fingers dragging across the ground. It didn't walk. It grazed, moving with the quiet grace of something that had hunted for far too long.
"...Kieran," she whispered, her breath fogging against the scope.
He was already at her side. His eyes darted toward the treeline, following her line of sight.
"What is that?" she whispered, trying to steady her breathing. "It doesn't look like an enforcer."
Kieran didn't answer. His eyes narrowed. The creature stopped. It tilted its head upward.
Toward the tower.
Toward them.
Meanwhile, Below the Tower
The fog moved against the wind. It curled around something unseen. It gathered. Thickened.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The sound was distant but deliberate.
The fog curled tighter, coiling around something blacker than shadow. No, not shadow. Mist. Thick, churning, and alive. The red glow of his eyes burned through the haze. They didn't flicker. They didn't blink. They just stared, locked on the source of the smoke.
He tilted his head slowly. The fog coiled tighter around him, curling like snakes drawn to warmth.
The Sentinel.
He took one step forward.
THUMP.
The gigantic creature bulldozing the trees froze. Its long, clawed fingers curled inward. Its head twitched once, twice, and then it spun toward the fog. It saw him. It saw him.
The Sentinel's eyes burned brighter.
The fog surged with him. His aura darkened, his steps heavy. Not a predator's charge. Not a soldier's march. It was something older. Something inevitable.
The creature screeched. It darted towards a crack in space. Not with grace. Not with confidence. It fled. Fled like prey into the real world.
The Sentinel didn't stop walking. He tilted his head up toward the tower. The faint glow of the fire flickered against the clouds. His eyes narrowed.
He knew where they were.
His armor pulsed with black mist, curling off his body like burning paper embers. His gaze didn't move from the tower, his eyes glowing like twin embers of malice.
He reached the base of the tower, one hand raised toward the wall. His fingers pressed into it, claws raking lightly across the surface. The fog curled around the wall like ink in water.
The fog hissed.
A crack formed beneath his palm.
His eyes flicked upward, focused on the thin stream of smoke curling from the window far, far above.
"...You'll do," he muttered, his voice hollow but certain. Not a whisper. A verdict.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
The fire was dying, the coals glowing faint orange. Amara leaned back, her eyes on Kieran. His gaze didn't waver from the stairwell leading down. He hadn't said a word for the last few minutes.
"You saw that too, didn't you?" she asked startled.
He glanced at her, his eyes sharp. "Yeah."
Her grip on the rifle tightened.
She tilted her head toward the stairs. "So… you ready?"
He stepped forward, shield on his arm, eyes locked on the abyss below. "No." He glanced at her, offering a faint grin. "But I'm going anyway."
They moved together, side by side. No words. Just the sound of footsteps descending into darkness.
Behind them, the fog outside shifted.
The fog stirred at the base of the tower. It coiled around something that had not been there a moment ago. It clung to something blacker than shadow.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The sound echoed like a heartbeat. Slow. Precise. Steady. It wasn't the clumsy charge of a beast. It was something methodical, measured. Each step deliberate, each impact final.
The glow of two burning red eyes pierced through the mist.
Smoke curled upward, rising like a signal flare in a war zone. He stared for a long moment, his gaze unwavering.
The red glow of his eyes flickered once.
His head tilted back down. The fog thickened. He stepped forward. Thump. Thump. Thump.
There was no hurry. He knew where they were.
He knew they would be waiting.
And soon, it would be their end.