It began with silence. Not the silence of crickets or wings. A silence that devoured sound itself.
Then came the screams.
The convoy jolted as something massive slammed into the outer cars. The walls groaned under pressure, metal bending with shrieks of protest. Shadows burst inward with clawed limbs, and suddenly the air was full of blood. Soldiers were torn from their seats, ripped apart before they could fire.
Children shrieked. Lamps shattered.
Nicolo's chest seized. It was happening. Exactly as he had seen it. The car filled with broken bodies, crimson rivers pooling across the floorboards.
And 12—her green eyes went wide as the beast descended upon her, jaws stretching unnaturally. Its fangs pierced her neck, and her body convulsed as blood streamed down her skin.
No. No, not again.
This time, Nicolo moved.
With a raw scream, he lunged forward, hands striking the beast's arm. His frail frame could not force it back, but the surprise was enough to break its feeding. 12 collapsed to the floor, gasping. Nicolo dragged her away with every ounce of strength in his thin arms.
"Run!" he shouted hoarsely to the other three children. They scrambled, clutching each other as he shoved them toward the far wall, away from snapping jaws.
Three soldiers remained, rifles spitting fire into the dark shapes crawling through the windows. Daron's blade shimmered with an unnatural glow as he cut a dweller in two, while Maris's arm twisted grotesquely into a spear of bone to impale another.
But there were too many.
Nicolo fell to his knees beside 12, hands trembling as he pressed against her wound. Her eyes fluttered, half-conscious, lips pale. "Why… you?" she whispered.
He had no answer. Only terror.
And then, the scrolls appeared again, blazing before his eyes.
[DO YOU WISH TO SAVE YOURSELF?]
The words shifted, sharper, brighter:
[DO YOU WISH TO SAVE THEM?]
Nicolo's vision blurred with tears. Around him, blood filled the car. His flaw was killing them all. Unless—unless he chose.
And for the first time, he was ready.