The sky was broken.
Jagged tears of violet light ran across the heavens, scars that never healed since the day the beasts fell through. Once, Kael imagined the world beyond those rifts—stars, clouds, the sun at peace. But he was seventeen now, and peace was a word that belonged to history books buried under rubble.
The ruins stretched endlessly around him. Shattered skyscrapers leaned like rotting teeth, their steel frames covered in creeping black moss that hissed when touched. Bones of both man and beast littered the cracked streets. A storm of ash drifted in the air, stinging Kael's throat with every breath.
"Keep your eyes up, Kael."
He turned. Mira, his squad leader, crouched behind a collapsed bus, her crossbow raised. Her voice was a low hiss, sharp as broken glass. "Scavenging doesn't mean daydreaming. You want your throat torn out?"
Kael tightened his grip on the jagged spear he carried. It wasn't real steel—just sharpened rebar wrapped in wire—but it was all he had. "Relax," he muttered. "If something was close, I'd feel it."
Mira's glare burned through him, but she said nothing.
The four of them moved cautiously through the ruins, weaving between fallen concrete and abandoned vehicles. They weren't soldiers, not Bloodbound, just scavengers—scraping through the corpse of the old world for anything Ironhold Citadel would take in trade. Food, ammo, scraps of tech, beast marrow if they were lucky.
It was dangerous work. Too dangerous. But danger was the only thing left to gamble with.
Kael crouched near a rusted shopfront, prying open a metal shutter. Dust billowed out, choking his lungs. Inside, shelves were toppled, goods long rotted, but in the corner—he spotted a glint. A box of canned food, miraculously untouched.
"Jackpot," he whispered, reaching for it.
That was when the sound came.
Low. Wet. Guttural.
A growl that didn't belong to any living creature of Earth.
Kael froze. The others stiffened instantly. Mira raised two fingers, signaling silence. Even the air seemed to hold its breath.
From the shadows of the alley beyond, it emerged.
The beast was the size of a horse, its body a twisted mass of muscle and chitin, crawling on four legs that bent the wrong way. Its head was a cracked skull stretched with skin, and within its jaw burned a row of teeth that glowed faintly blue. A Riftspawn, one of the smaller breeds—but still enough to slaughter them all.
Kael's heart hammered. His body screamed to run, but his legs refused.
The beast's nostrils flared, catching their scent. Its gaze snapped to them, and for the briefest moment, Kael swore its eyes met his. Not with hunger alone. With recognition.
"Scatter!" Mira shouted.
The alley exploded into chaos. The Riftspawn lunged, its claws tearing concrete apart as if it were paper. Mira fired a bolt into its hide; the arrow snapped uselessly against its armor. Someone screamed—he didn't see who. Kael stumbled backward, spear raised, but the beast was already upon him.
Claws flashed. A wall collapsed. He hit the ground hard, ribs screaming.
The Riftspawn loomed over him, hot drool dripping onto his face, sizzling as it burned into his skin. Its jaws opened wide.
And Kael realized with brutal certainty—this was how he was going to die.