During Lanse's agonizing way back to Tess—the girl he'd once left for dead—the unthinkable happened. His nerves were raw, his eyes darting through the darkness, tracking the thick vines coiled around him like waiting predators. Something was wrong. Then it hit him—sharp as the pain burning in his leg.
A shadow zipped past him—fast, smokey, and dark as ink. An Elite. No... Elites. But why hadn't they attacked? No flash of swords from above, no tearing through flesh. Nothing.
His gut twisted. If they weren't after him, then…
Panic surged. Every nerve screamed a warning as he spun around. Behind him, a mass of crimson chaos surged forward—a hellish swarm eating through the vines like acid. Just touching it disintegrated the forest. Lanse didn't need more signs. He had to run.
It all felt like déjà vu—the red nebula. Was this... a reset?
Was the Elite running from that?
