Chapter 4 — First Night in the Rift
Stepping through the Rift was like drowning in cold light. For a breathless moment, I couldn't tell if I was falling or floating. Then my boots struck ground—damp earth, soft with moss.
I staggered forward, blinking hard. The world beyond the Rift was both familiar and alien. Towering trees stretched into a canopy of black leaves, their bark glowing faintly with green veins. The air was thicker here, alive with hums and distant screeches. Even the shadows moved.
Around me, the rest of Group Seven stumbled into place. Some gasped, others swore under their breath. A few nobles pretended they weren't shaken, straightening coats and brushing invisible dust from their boots.
"Set camp," an overseer's voice barked from the fading shimmer. "Your week begins now." Then the Rift pulsed once—and the overseers were gone.
We were alone.
---
From the survival packs, nobles pulled out collapsible shelters, fine canvas and steel poles that snapped together easily. Within minutes, rows of neat, gleaming tents rose from the ground like a miniature fortress.
The tower-born scrambled with their simpler kits—flimsy tarps stretched over rope, stakes hammered into soil. It wasn't much, but it looked like shelter.
I dragged my own canvas roll from the pack. Thin, patched, barely big enough for two people. Mara knelt beside me, her hood tugged low. "Guess it's like home," she said dryly.
"Better than the bunks," I said, though my hands shook while I drove the first stake.
Together, we fought the stubborn canvas until it formed something close to a tent. Crooked. Leaky. But it stood.
Mara crawled inside, tossing me a ration bar. "Same room, same tent. Don't snore."
I chuckled, chewing the tough bar. The taste was ash, but hunger didn't care.
---
By nightfall, the fifty of us gathered around a crude firepit. The nobles sat closer to the flames, their polished armor catching the light. The rest of us circled wider, letting them pretend they owned the fire.
Laura—mayor's daughter, her braid catching sparks of orange—stood near the pit with a handful of others. She raised her voice so we all could hear.
"We have seven days. If we scatter blindly, more than half of us won't make it back. We should plan together, at least for the first night."
Murmurs rippled. Some agreed. Some didn't care.
Tyler, the golden-haired noble with the hawk crest, stepped forward. His jaw was sharp, his smile sharper. "Planning's a waste of time. We only have a week. Anyone with sense will spend it hunting, not hiding. Strength is what matters, not sitting around a fire holding hands." His friends chuckled, nodding eagerly.
Laura didn't flinch. "We'll all have our own strategies. But if we don't share information, we'll walk into deathtraps. That's not strength, that's stupidity."
Her eyes swept the circle and landed on me. "Avon Standfeild, you're leading the orphans, aren't you?"
I blinked. "I… guess. We stick together, yeah."
"Then you're captain of one squad. Your opinion matters."
The circle went still. Tyler's smile curdled into a sneer. "You're asking him?"
Laura didn't even look at him. "I am."
Heat crawled up my neck, but I forced myself to speak steady. "We've got seven days. The first thing we should do is scout the area. Learn the terrain, find the dangerous zones, mark safe spots. If we rush in blind, we'll waste lives before we even find a beast worth killing."
For a moment, silence. Then nods spread through the circle. Tower-born muttered agreement, even a few nobles shifted uncomfortably.
Laura nodded. "Good. I agree."
Tyler's voice snapped through the murmurs. "Pathetic. We're not here to play safe—we're here to evolve. While you're sniffing dirt and counting trees, I'll be killing beasts and growing stronger. That's what this is about. Power. Not maps."
His friends cheered him on. A couple of tower-born shifted toward him, emboldened by his arrogance.
Laura's gaze was steel. "Then take your squad and do as you like. But the rest of us will not walk blind."
The firelight flickered over Tyler's clenched jaw. He shot me a look filled with venom. "Hide behind your little tent if you want, rat. When I come back with a Trait, don't beg to join me."
I met his glare, refusing to look away. "We'll see who's begging."
The circle broke slowly after that, smaller groups retreating to their shelters. Tension clung to the camp like smoke.
---
Back at our crooked tent, Mara stretched out on her mat. "Well," she said, "you've made your first enemy. And your first ally."
I sat with my sword across my lap, listening to the forest breathe. "Yeah. And I've got a feeling both will matter more than I want them to."
Above the canopy, the alien stars burned faint and cold. Seven days. That was all we had.
I tightened my grip on the hilt. Scouting first. Fighting later. Survive.
And maybe, just maybe—prove them all wrong.