The clearing stretched endlessly before Harry as he took another painstakingly slow step forward, his boots barely brushing the grass. His heart thudded in his chest, each beat amplified in his ears. Every movement was deliberate—heel to toe, weight shifted with care—his body tense as a coiled spring.
His breaths were shallow, his lips pressed tightly together. Not a single sound escaped him. The ground beneath his feet felt like it could betray him at any moment.
Behind him, the group watched, holding their collective breath. No one shouted, no one called after him.
That was good.
He didn't need any distractions.
'One step at a time,' Harry thought, swallowing hard. He glanced down at the ground. Every tuft of grass, every uneven patch of dirt felt like a potential trigger for disaster.
Three minutes passed. Maybe four. He wasn't sure anymore. But when he chanced a glance back, he realized he'd covered nearly fifty meters. It wasn't much. At his current pace, it felt like a lifetime.
He sensed Jess's intense gaze but decided to ignore it.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed movement.
Tim.
The guy was tiptoeing forward, his face pale and drenched in sweat but determined nonetheless. Harry's eyes flicked to the rest of the group. They were hesitating, but he could see the resolve in their eyes.
Jess and Darrow must've given instructions. The way they were spacing themselves out, with gaps between each person, wasn't a coincidence.
One by one, more people started following.
It was surreal. A slow, silent procession of survivors, each moving as if walking through a minefield. Jess and Darrow took up the rear, their expressions unreadable, but Harry didn't miss the way Jess's sharp gaze kept flicking back to the forest.
He knew what she was thinking.
They weren't safe yet.
An hour crawled by.
The fortress loomed larger now, its jagged silhouette stark against the fading light. The group had made progress, but it was slow, agonizingly slow. They'd covered half the distance, maybe a little more, but the horizon had started to bleed shadows, the sun dipping lower and lower.
Harry paused, glancing back over his shoulder. The forest behind them had started to come alive again.
The growls were faint at first—distant, guttural echoes carried on the wind. But they were growing louder.
The creatures were moving, creeping out of the shadows of the forest.
Harry's chest tightened. His gaze darted to Jess, who had also stopped. Her expression was grim, her lips pressed into a thin line.
The monsters wouldn't go beyond the forest shadows earlier. That much was clear. But now, the shadows were stretching. With every passing second, the sun's retreat gave the monsters more ground to work with.
Harry clenched his fists.
'Damn it. The sunlight theory was right, but it doesn't matter if the sun's leaving us behind.'
He forced himself to keep moving, every step feeling heavier than the last.
When the fortress was less than two hundred meters away, Harry's heart sank further.
There were no gates.
No doors.
No ladders.
Just massive, smooth walls stretching upward like an impenetrable barrier.
Harry bit down on his lower lip, his mind racing.
'There has to be something. A crack, a rope, anything.'
He shook his head. There was no point panicking now. 'First, get there. Worry about climbing later. One thing at a time.'
The minutes slipped away too fast.
Five minutes left.
They'd covered another hundred meters, but that left another hundred to go.
The sun was almost gone now, the sky bathed in deep reds and purples. And the forest creatures? They were still advancing. Slowly, yes, but deliberately. Harry's stomach churned as he realized why.
'They're savoring it.'
The Jonkeys were prowling, their growls guttural and eager. The Grimlings were silent for now, but Harry caught glimpses of their leathery wings flapping in the distance. as for the Endtalkers, they had just come out of the forest.
Fear prickled at his skin, but his legs kept moving.
'Don't think. Just move.'
The darkness pressed in from all sides, and with it, the weight of the monsters.
Everyone around him was tense, their movements jerky and uncertain. No one spoke, but the fear was palpable, a living, breathing thing among them.
Harry's teeth ground together as he glanced at the fortress again.
'We'll figure it out,' he told himself, gripping the knife at his side. 'We have to.'
The seconds ticked by, the growls of the forest monsters growing louder. And Harry knew—if they didn't reach the fortress before the last light disappeared, it wouldn't matter how slow or quiet they were.
The monsters would run them down.
He took another careful step forward, his heart pounding in his ears.
Meanwhile, the growls behind them were growing louder.
Too loud.
He glanced over his shoulder. The Jonkeys had stopped prowling. Their bodies were tense, their glowing yellow eyes locked on the group like predators waiting to pounce.
Something was about to happen.
He could tell it easily.
"Not good," Harry muttered under his breath.
As if on cue, one of the Grimlings let out a bone-chilling screech, its leathery wings unfurling. The sound cut through the air like a blade, and the Jonkeys responded with guttural roars.
Harry's stomach dropped.
'Here we go…'
The monsters surged forward.
The Grimlings leapt into the air, their wings flapping erratically as they soared toward the group. The Jonkeys didn't even bother trying to close the distance on foot. Instead, they started hurling their projectiles—sharpened stones and jagged debris—straight at the survivors.
"RUN!" someone screamed, their voice breaking the fragile silence.
And just like that, chaos erupted.
Harry didn't need to look back. He could feel the panic spreading like wildfire, hear the frantic shouts and the thunder of footsteps as everyone abandoned their careful pace and broke into a full-on sprint.
A sharp whistle cut through the air—a projectile—and Harry instinctively ducked. It slammed into the ground inches from where he'd been standing, sending up a spray of dirt.
"Move!" Jess's voice roared from the back of the group, sharp and commanding.
Harry's legs burned as he pushed forward, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The fortress was so close now, but it still felt impossibly far.
"Keep going!" Darrow shouted, his voice raw.
The sound of wings beating the air grew louder. Harry chanced a glance upward and saw a Grimling diving toward the group, its claws outstretched. It swooped down on one of the survivors, narrowly missing as the man stumbled and rolled to the side.
Another projectile whizzed past Harry's head, too close for comfort.
'They're trying to pick us off before we even get close,' he thought grimly.
Then, the ground rumbled.
'Shoot-!'