Gray awoke to a heavy silence.
The kind that sinks into your bones before you even open your eyes. The kind that feels like it's watching you. The air inside the house had weight to it, as if the cold from the outside had seeped through the cracks in the wood and stone, settled into the floorboards, and draped itself over their shoulders like a wet wool blanket. It wasn't just cold. It was still. The sort of stillness that warned of something coming.
Light spilled through the narrow windows in long, pale stripes. It fell across scattered gear bags, some open and half-packed. A length of rope hung loose from a satchel, curling on the floor like a lazy vine. The brazier in the corner was unlit, long cold. No warmth lingered.
Gray sat up slowly, heartbeat sluggish, chest tight. This was it. The final day. The last morning before everything began. And in the pit of his chest was that familiar weight, like a smooth, heavy stone lodged just beneath his ribs. Not pain exactly, but close enough.
Across the room, Lira sat against the wall, spine straight, legs stretched out before her as she laced her boots. Her fingers moved with quiet purpose, each motion clean and efficient. The leather of the laces creaked slightly under the pull. There was something calming about the rhythm of it, the way she worked without speaking.
Gray stared at her for a moment, then whispered without thinking.
"I'm scared."
The words weren't loud, but they felt loud in the silence. Too loud. The kind of truth you can't take back.
Lira's hands stilled for half a second. Then she looked up, her expression calm. She nodded once, small and sure.
"Me too," she said. "But fear doesn't fix anything. All it does is ease the passage toward dying."
Gray blinked. He hadn't expected her to say that. "Where did you hear that?"
She gave a faint shrug. "From my aunt... Yurei Cael."
Her voice was steady, but her hands paused again, just for a breath, before she went back to her boots. Gray filed the name away.
Before he could ask more, the door creaked open. Two guards entered without knocking, their armor clinking softly. Neither spoke. Each carried a tray of food: lukewarm broth, slabs of hard flatbread, slices of preserved meat. It was travel food, endurance food. The kind you ate when nothing else mattered but staying upright. Its reminded Gray of the food back from District 7. The meal was slightly better than what they had received from the previous days. Maybe as a final appreciation gift for them to be their sacrifices.
They placed the trays in front of each person, then turned and left as quickly as they had come.
The others were already gathering around the table. Korr sat with his elbows on his knees, chewing with slow detachment. His gaze was fixed on the floor. Orrin ate quickly, glancing between the others as if trying to read something in their eyes. Renn barely touched the food, breaking pieces of bread with his fingers and setting them aside.
Gray waited until they had all taken a few bites. Then he spoke.
"So. What's the plan?"
It was Orrin who answered. His voice was low and brittle, like he had to force it through his teeth. "Do we even have one?"
Renn straightened slightly and took a slow breath, like he'd rehearsed what he was about to say.
"Korr, Orrin, and I will stay behind," he said. He hated to admit it. He hated to admit that... he was weak.
Orrin's hands curled into fists. "I can still try to sneak in later. If something goes wrong, I'll find you. I'll follow."
Lira shook her head. Her voice was calm, but there was steel underneath it.
"No. You stay. All of you. If we fail, someone has to survive to carry the message back. This can't all be for nothing."
She looked directly at Korr now. "Where is Rank Seven? He was supposed to be with us."
Korr's jaw clenched. "He's been imprisoned," he said. "No one knows why. They took him in the night. No one has seen him since."
For a second, Lira's face flickered. Then she shut it down and nodded.
Silence again. Just chewing and shifting fabric.
Renn cleared his throat. "If needed, I can try to get the truck running again. No promises. The engine's still half-frozen from the crash and is missing several parts."
Lira nodded.
"If we don't come back scratched up at the very least," Lira said flatly, "assume we're dead. If we succeed, meet us at the north bridge. No more than a day. After that, scatter."
They finished their meal in near silence. No one wanted to drag it out.
Just as the last tray was being stacked, the translator stepped into the room. She moved with that uncanny stillness, like her feet didn't touch the floor.
"Gray. Lira. Adel. Come."
They followed her through a narrow passage at the rear of the house. The walls here were carved stone, bare and cold. The chamber they entered was small and empty, except for a single torch burning on the wall.
The translator turned to face them.
"This is your last chance to speak," she said. "Final words. If you have any."
Then she stepped outside, letting the silence swallow the room.
Gray, Lira, and Adel stood in a loose circle. Orrin leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
"I'm not going down, so I'm—I'm going to survive," Orrin said after a pause. "So if you want something passed on, say it now."
Lira nodded. "Tell my aunt...Yurei Cael, that I'm still fighting. That I didn't forget what she taught me."
He turned to Adel. She hesitated.
"I have a brother," she said. "We don't speak. If I die, he won't care. Probably."
Orrin gave her a slow nod. Then his eyes moved to Gray.
"You?"
Gray looked down at the floor, then shook his head. "No one to send messages to."
Orrin didn't push. He just stepped aside and opened the door again.
Gray paused and turned to Korr. "Watch over Renn."
Korr gave a tight nod, his expression breaking just slightly. "You better come back."
Renn looked close to crying. Gray forced a smile.
"Of course I will," he said. "I know it."
Then they stepped out into the cold. Morning light cast a gray hue over the snow-dusted stone. The air bit at their skin, but they didn't stop moving. They followed quietly, taking in the scene for possibly the last time.
Lanterns flickered along the path, leading them downward. Stairs spiraled beneath the village, carved deep into the mountain. It grew warmer the deeper they went, but that warmth didn't lift the dread sitting in Gray's chest.
They passed into the rich quarter, where the walls were clean and the people wore layers of fine cloth and fur. Not one of them spoke. Their gazes tracked the three of them as they passed. Gray kept his eyes down, but he felt one woman's pity cut into him like a blade.
He wished they would all just look away.
At last they reached a long, sloped corridor. At the far end stood a massive iron door, dark with age, marked with layers of locking mechanisms. The translator stood waiting.
"This is the entrance," she said. "It leads into the winding tunnels. They all merge at your target. A nest."
Gray's stomach twisted. He remembered the nest from the trial arena. The stench. The webs. The shrieks.
"You may encounter more. Possibly worse. You know what to do."
She handed each of them a torch wrapped in oil-soaked cloth. "When you find the nest, burn it. Leave nothing behind. If you fail…"
She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't have to.
One by one, the locks opened. The door creaked as it swung back, revealing a dark, yawning tunnel.
"Good luck," she said, then stepped away.
Gray stared into the abyss. His breath came in clouds. He didn't move.
'Ahh, shit.'
The torch in his hand felt heavier than it should have. His legs wouldn't listen at first. Something inside him trembled.
Then a face flickered in his mind. A woman with hazel hair. Smooth skin. He didn't know her name. Maybe he never had. But there was something in that image that made him feel like he should remember.
Then it vanished.
'What... who was that?' He looked dazed.
"Come on, Gray. The quicker, the better."
Lira's voice brought him back to reality.
He nodded. Swallowed hard. Took the first step.
'Here we go...'