The morning came cloaked in grey. Thick clouds draped the sky, but the wind had stilled, and snow had softened into a light blanket that covered the ruined town like a shroud. The silence was not peaceful, it was wary, as though the land itself had paused to listen.
Gray stirred first. Warmth spread through his limbs. Not the burning pain of overused Vyre or the ache of injury, but a steady, gentle warmth. It was unfamiliar. He sat up slowly, the crunch of his movement muffled by the blankets around him. Bandages were still coiled tightly around his arms and chest. He winced but managed to rise without too much strain.
His hand reached instinctively for his katana. It lay beside him on the floor, chipped along the edge but intact. He ran a thumb along its spine, reassured by its presence. With slow, steady movements, he walked to the door and gently pushed it open, stepping into the dim light of morning.
Korr sat on the porch, hunched over a steaming bowl of soup, the mist from his breath mingling with the rising steam. He didn't look up immediately.
"Morning, snow-hair," he muttered between bites. "Soup's better than yesterday. Barely."
'Snow hair? What kinda shitty name is that?' He grumbled quietly.
Gray sat beside him, his movements stiff. "You're up early."
Korr shrugged. "Didn't sleep much. That monster's still in my head. And the truck's out of fuel. Figured food was the one thing I could fix."
He handed Gray a spare bowl. The liquid was thin, but warm. Gray took a sip. Korr was right. It was slightly better.
Across the clearing, Orrin stood near a pile of gear, slowly dragging a whetstone down the length of his spear. His motions were deliberate, his focus unbroken. Gray watched him for a moment, studying the young man's profile. Orrin was no longer the boy Gray remembered. He no longer was scared, now his presence held some weight.
He looked at his suit, once standard issue and uniform in appearance, now reflected the journey they had endured. Lira's was lined with a thick outer layer, patches of reinforced plating along the sleeves and spine. It bore the marks of claw swipes and had entire sections charred, completely black.
Korr's armor was the same, mostly.
He had attached metal fragments to the shoulders and forearms, giving him a brutish silhouette.
Orrin's suit had been tailored tighter due to his physique.
Cael's remained the most intact, though faded and dulled.
Gray's was different. Everyone had the sane suit, but his seemed entirly different from the damage. It was torn and tattered, the chestplate cracked, the right arm guard missing entirely. His left one had claw marks, some going so deep his skin could be seen. The fabric underneath was non existent, and the outer layer had thinned from repeated strain. Not to mention all the blood that stained it, dying it almost entirely red.
He had tried to clean it but the suit was made from something he had never seen before.
It barely even protected him from the cold anymore.
One by one, the others rose. Lira joined them, bundled tightly in a thick coat with frost clinging to her hood. Mira moved quietly through the house, checking on Adel with a steady hand and tired eyes. The Rank Seven, Renn and Orrin all volunteered to help fix the truck.
He had always been in the background, quiet, observant but dependable. Gray noticed the way the rank sevens hands trembled slightly as he packed tools, the subtle strain in his voice when he spoke.
'Im not sure if he's going to be able to last longer...'
After a short, subdued meal, the group gathered in the front room. The fire had long since gone out, and the chill was creeping back in. The air was tight with fatigue and unspoken worries.
"We have until dawn tomorrow," Mira said. Her voice was calm, but her eyes were heavy. "That's when we move. Whether we're ready or not."
The group sat in silence for a moment, processing her words.
Assignments were given quickly, each one practical. Renn and Orrin would try to siphon fuel from Calem's old truck to power theirs. Cael would assist. Mira, Calem, and the burly man Jorrel would stay behind with Adel to prepare her for travel and guard the supplies. Gray, Korr, and Lira would explore the one part of the village they had always avoided, the far end, a place shrouded in rot and shadow.
Before setting out, they took time to pack supplies. Lira checked weapons. Gray adjusted his armor. Korr muttered to himself, checking and rechecking his axe. These small rituals grounded them.
They left together, crunching across the snow in silence. Their breath fogged before them in short, rhythmic bursts. The town stretched around them, hollow and patient. Rooftops sagged under snow, windows blinked with shattered glass, and overhead wires hung like tangled threads. Each step felt heavier than the last.
They moved beyond the central plaza, stepping over sunken stones and broken lanterns, and continued down a path choked with frostbitten vines. The buildings here were different, shorter, squatter. Each one leaned awkwardly, as if collapsing under invisible weight. Doors had been ripped from hinges. Windows were shattered. What little remained of furniture was splintered and soaked. The houses they explored were small, barely more than two rooms each. In one, they found skeletal remains huddled near a cold stove. In another, the walls had been clawed from the inside. No valuables remained, only scraps, faded drawings pinned to wood, and cracked plates left on tables long untouched.
Lira entered one of the homes and paused.
"There's writing here," she said.
Gray stepped in behind her. On the far wall, scrawled in something dark, were words barely visible: It watches when we sleep.
Korr grunted. "Comforting."
Gray knelt to examine the floor. A trail of footprints led to a corner and stopped. No signs of exit. Just a dark stain.
They kept moving.
The road narrowed as the buildings pressed closer together. The air grew colder, heavier. The snow seemed deeper here, but untouched. As if the storm had deposited it and then vanished. They passed an old schoolhouse, half of it collapsed into itself. Metal chairs lay twisted in a pile. A slide from a playground sat buried, the top just barely visible.
"We shouldn't stay long," Lira said, voice low.
Korr nodded. "Something's off."
They stepped into a narrow alley. On either side, the buildings seemed to loom. Vines crept down the stone, frozen mid-curl. A single lamppost stood in the center, still upright. Its glass had been shattered, and something hung from the frame, a necklace. A child's locket, the chain broken and looped around the post. Inside was a drawing, smudged by time.
Gray said nothing.
They emerged into what might have once been a communal garden. Now it was just a field of snow and glass, with patches of dead, frostbitten bushes poking out. In the middle stood a statue, its face chipped away, arms raised toward the sky.
Then Gray saw it.
Beyond the statue, almost hidden by an overgrown archway, was a gate.
A warped, wooden structure, twisted by heat or age. It stood partially open. Something about it tugged at him.
"Wait... do you see that?" he asked, pointing.
When he turned to share it, the others were gone.
His heart thudded.
"Lira? Korr?" he called out.
No answer.
Panic gnawed at the edge of his thoughts. He ran down the main street, boots crunching on snow and ice, but the village was empty. Not silent, not dead, but distant, muffled. Off.
He turned a corner and stopped in front of a blacksmith's shop. The windows were unbroken, the sign still hung straight. Lights flickered inside.
Gray entered.
Suddenly, the air was warm. People bustled around him, vendors calling out, hammers ringing against steel. He blinked. The town was alive. He reached out to touch a woman passing by.
His hand phased through her.
'What... what the hell?'
The moment he touched her, she dissolved into dust.
He stepped back. The smith continued his work, unaware. Others passed by, turning to ash as he reached out. His breath grew short. What was this?
He left the shop, and the town was still bustling. Laughter echoed from a distant square.
Gray walked, lost and unnerved. He passed a toy store, the dolls smiling with glassy eyes. A butcher's stall still had meat hanging, fresh and red. Snow did not fall here.
Then he felt it.
A tap on his shoulder.
He spun around and drew his sword.
Orrin stood behind him, eyes wide, hands raised.
"Gray. It's me."
A notification flickered across his vision.
[You have broken free from a Mental Cue]
'Was i under an illusion?'
Gray gasped for air, unknowingly he had been holding his breath the entire time.
He found himself back to the old town. Cold, ruined, dead.
"Where am i?" Gray asked.
Orrin pointed down a road. "At the market district, i was heading back to the hpuse tl get the rest.What happened? Aren't you meant to be with Korr and Lira?"
Gray swallowed. "Something is wrong. We need to move. Fast."
He turned around and quickly sprinted back to the house to get the others.
They had to leave now.
The snow had darkened. The house loomed ahead like a carcass in the storm.
Gray slowed as his instincts screamed. A pulse of warning surged through his senses. A notification appeared in the corner of his vision.
[Warning: Fear Level Rising. Proximity breach detected.]
He stepped onto the porch. The door creaked open with a light push. Inside, the air was wrong, thick, wet, buzzing with something just beneath hearing.
The warmth was gone. The hearth lay cold. The shadows clung to the walls in a way that seemed to twist and breathe.
Then he saw it.
Calem sat slumped near the far wall, legs bent at unnatural angles, his eyes glassy and fixed on the ceiling. Blood painted a fan-like arc behind him. His mouth was open, lips twitching slightly as if trying to form words that would never come.
'He's... dead'
Gray's eyes darted across the room.
The burly man was near the center, collapsed in a pool of blood. His chest had caved inward, as if crushed by something impossibly heavy. His massive body draped over something small.
Gray's heart pounded as he rushed forward and heaved the corpse aside.
Adel.
She was pale, breath faint, but alive. Her limbs twitched weakly as though trying to fight off a nightmare. Her entire body painted with blood.
'He gave his life saving her...'
Gray scooped her up and turned.
A sound cut through the silence.
Wet. Gnawing. A slurp, followed by a soft crunch. Something chewing flesh and swallowing bone.
It came from the kitchen.
Gray's feet froze, his head slowly turning toward the half-open door across the room.
The smell hit him first rot, bile, old meat turned inside out.
Then he saw a figure.
A figure hunched over what had once been Mira. Her body was sprawled across the counter. The thing crouched over her was thin, humanoid only in shape. Its skin was pulled too tight, stretched over long bones. Patches of flesh peeled and pulsed, revealing something beneath that writhed. Its head turned sharply, far too fast, far too fluid.
Its eyes were wide and blank. No pupils. It ignored Gray as if he was invisible and continued to eat.
He did not scream. He did not move.
The creature opened its mouth.
It did not speak. It inhaled.
Gray took his chance and grabbed the herbarium lying on the floor and ran.
He burst through the door, snow slapping his face like a wake-up slap.
Orrin met him at the edge of the market district, Korr and Lira stood beside him, mouth open to ask.
"Go," Gray shouted at the top of his lungs, almost screaming.
Without saying another word everyone got inside.
Only Gray knew what he had seen.
'I should've known...'
The monster followed Calem's group here.
The monster...
It was none other than the Pale Maw.