The smell was the first thing to pull Raina from the depths of her exhaustion. It wasn't the smell of rot, or damp fur, or the metallic tang of dried blood that had become the perfume of the last twenty-four hours.
It was the smell of bacon.
Raina opened her eyes. The bioluminescent fungi on the cave walls were dimming, signaling what passed for "morning" in the eternal twilight of the Shadow Weald. She pushed herself up from the pile of furs, her muscles screaming in protest. Every inch of her body felt bruised, but the aroma wafting from the fire pit was compelling enough to override the pain.
Korg was hunched over the fire, looking like a bear attempting to play house. He was using a flat, heated stone as a griddle, manipulating a crude spatula he had whittled from a branch.
"Awake," Korg rumbled, not turning around. "Eat. Fuel is life."
Raina crawled toward the fire, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Nix was already there, sitting cross-legged on a log, holding a wooden plate with both hands. The Glimmuck looked cleaner than he had the day before, having apparently found a way to wash his face and his glasses.
"Good morning, Sunshine," Nix said, his mouth full. "Do not ask about the provenance of the protein. Just consume it. The amino acid profile is surprisingly robust."
Raina looked at the stone griddle. Sizzling there were thick strips of meat that looked suspiciously like bacon, alongside three large, speckled eggs that must have come from a bird the size of an ostrich.
"Is that..." Raina pointed at the meat.
"Boar-Kin," Korg grunted, flipping a strip with surprising dexterity. "Pig-Men try to kill Korg. Korg kills Pig-Men. Korg eats Pig-Men. It is efficient."
Raina stared at the meat. Her stomach gave a treacherous growl. She was a soldier. She was a survivor. She had eaten MREs that tasted like cardboard and axel grease. She could do this.
"Pass the plate," Raina said.
Korg piled food onto a wooden slab and handed it to her. He also added a handful of blue, spherical fruits that glistened in the firelight.
Raina took a bite of the meat. It was salty, smoky, and gamey. It was delicious. She ate with a fervor she didn't know she possessed, tearing into the food while the giant bear watched with yellow, satisfied eyes.
"The fruit," Korg pointed a claw at the blue spheres. "Cerulean Drupes. Grow on the high ridge. Sweet. Good for the blood."
Raina bit into one. The skin snapped, releasing a burst of juice that tasted like a cross between a mango and a blueberry, with a hint of static electricity. It was cool and refreshing, washing away the grease of the meat.
"I don't get it," Raina said, wiping blue juice from her chin. "This place... the Weald. Nix said it's a trash compactor. A drain. But things grow here. You have chickens?"
"Giant Swamp Raptors," Nix corrected, tapping his eggshell. "But the yolk is compatible with human digestion."
"Life is stubborn," Korg said. He sat back, the stone beneath him groaning under his weight. "Weald is dark. But top of mountain has light. Water comes down from the peaks. Clean water."
"Filtration," Raina murmured, her engineering brain latching onto the logic. "Sedimentary rock layers. Activated charcoal deposits in the soil. It cleans the runoff before it hits the swamp."
"Smart female," Korg nodded. "Water is life. Where there is water, there is fruit. Where there is fruit, there is prey. Where there is prey, Korg eats."
He reached into a large wooden chest behind him. "And where there is Korg, there is... collection."
The bear pulled out a box. It was a plastic storage bin, cracked and yellowed with age, likely another casualty of the Slipgate's instability over the decades. He upended it onto the cave floor.
Raina stared at the pile of debris. It was a time capsule of Earth's junk. A Rubik's cube with the stickers peeled off. A single roller skate. A terrifying clown mask. A stack of cassette tapes held together by a rubber band.
Korg picked up an object. It was made of purple silicone, about eight inches long, and shaped unmistakably like human male anatomy.
The bear held it up to the firelight, turning it over, his massive brow furrowed in concentration.
"This," Korg rumbled. "Found in a crate. Rubber. Flexible. No handle. No blade. Useless weapon. But feels... funny."
He gave it a wobble. The purple object flopped back and forth.
Raina choked on her fruit. She started coughing, thumping her chest.
Nix leaned forward, adjusting his glasses to inspect the artifact. "Curious design. The flared base suggests it is meant to be anchored. Perhaps a joystick for a control interface? Or a dampener for a suspension system?"
Raina wheezed, wiping tears from her eyes. "No. No, it's not a joystick."
Korg looked at her. "You know this totem?"
"It's not a totem," Raina said, her face flushing hot. She couldn't believe she was having this conversation with a bear and an alien in a cave in another dimension. "It's a... a toy. For adults."
"Toy?" Korg squeezed it. It squeaked faintly. "For playing?"
"For... pleasure," Raina clarified, waving her hand vaguely. "On Earth, we call it a dildo."
Korg froze. He looked at the purple object. He looked at Raina.
"Dil-do," Korg said. The word rolled around in his deep chest, vibrating like a subwoofer.
"Yes," Raina said. "Dildo."
Korg let out a snort. Then a huff. Then a deep, rolling belly laugh that shook dust from the ceiling of the cave.
"Dil-do!" Korg roared, waving the purple silicone in the air. "Dil-do! Funny word. Sounds like a drum."
He pointed the object at Nix. "You. Little Glimmuck. You are a dildo."
Nix looked offended. "I am a highly skilled technician."
"Silence, Dildo," Korg commanded, wiping a tear from his furry cheek. He pointed it at Raina. "And you. You eat my bacon. You are a dildo too."
Raina laughed. She couldn't help it. The tension of the last day broke, and she found herself laughing until her sides hurt. "Yeah, Korg. Sometimes I am. That's actually a pretty common insult on Earth."
"I like Earth," Korg declared, tossing the object back into his treasure chest. "Earth has bacon. Earth has dildos. Good place."
He stood up, the humor fading from his face as he strapped his massive battle axe to his back. The transition from jovial host to armored tank was instant.
"Eat done," Korg announced. "Sun is high above the mist. We move South. To the smoke."
"Smoke means fire," Nix said, packing the rest of the blue fruit into his pockets. "Fire means civilization. Or at least, beings smart enough to not eat their meat raw. It increases our chances of finding a stable portal."
They left the sanctuary of the cave, stepping back out into the gloom. But the mood had shifted. The breakfast and the laughter had forged something between them. They weren't just survivors anymore. They were a unit.
The trek south took them out of the swamp and into a region Korg called the "Grey Gardens." Here, the vegetation was less aggressive. The carnivorous vines were replaced by tall, spiraling ferns and groves of the trees that bore the Cerulean Drupes.
Raina walked beside Korg, her hand resting near the hilt of the rusted knife she had taken from the Boar-Kin. Nix scouted ahead, moving with a fluid grace that matched his action movie star appearance.
"The smoke," Raina asked, pointing to a thin grey plume rising above the tree line in the distance. "Who lives there? More bears?"
"No," Korg said softly. "Old place. Stone house. Fell through long ago. Before Korg. Before pigs."
They crested a ridge and looked down.
Raina gasped.
Sitting in a clearing, surrounded by the choking vines of the Weald, was a building. It wasn't a castle or a dungeon. It was a massive, brick structure that looked like it had been ripped straight out of 1920s America.
It was three stories tall, with arched windows and a slate roof that had partially collapsed. The brickwork was faded and covered in moss, but the architecture was unmistakable. It looked like an asylum. Or a hospital.
Above the main entrance, a stone archway still bore a partial inscription: ...LEAKWOOD SANI...
"Bleakwood," Raina whispered. "It's a sanitarium. From Earth."
"I hear sounds," Nix hissed, appearing at Raina's elbow. His ears were swiveling. "Mechanical. Rhythmic. And... voices."
"Pig-Men?" Raina asked, drawing her knife.
"Boar-Kin," Nix nodded. "But different. The frequency is higher. Softer."
Korg growled low in his throat. "We go around. Place is bad juju."
"We need intel," Raina countered. She looked at the building. "If the Pig-Men are using this as a base, we need to know what they have. If they have radios. If they have a portal key."
"Too big for you," Nix said, looking at Korg. "You are a siege engine, my friend. You do not sneak. And you," he looked at Raina. "You are loud. Your boots are heavy."
"And you're a ninja?" Raina asked skeptically.
"I am a Glimmuck," Nix corrected, adjusting his suspenders. "I can fit in a 15-inch conduit. I have low-light vision. And I am naturally inconspicuous."
He pointed to a rusted ventilation grate near the foundation of the building.
"I will infiltrate," Nix said. "I will conduct reconnaissance. You two hold position here. If I am not back in twenty minutes, assume I have been turned into bacon and proceed south without me."
"Don't get dead, Dildo," Korg grunted.
Nix flashed a grin, saluted, and vanished into the tall grass.
Nix squeezed through the rusted slats of the ventilation cover. The air inside the shaft was stale, smelling of rust, mold, and something antiseptic—like rubbing alcohol mixed with sour milk.
He crawled on his belly, his elbows scraping against the galvanized steel. He counted the turns in his head, mapping the structure as he went. Left at the junction. Up two levels. Toward the heat signature.
He reached a grate that looked down into a hallway. He peered through the slats.
What he saw made his blood run cold.
The hallway was clean. Not hospital-clean, but clean for the Weald. The muck had been scrubbed from the tiled floor. And walking down the hall were Boar-Kin.
But these were not the armored brutes they had fought in the forest. These were smaller, softer. Their snouts were shorter, their skin pinker. They wore what looked like nurse's scrubs, stained and tattered, but functional.
"Females," Nix whispered. "Sows."
He had never seen a female Boar-Kin. The lore in the High Veil said the Boar-Kin were vat-grown. Soldiers manufactured for a war that ended centuries ago. Sterile. Clones.
He crept further, following the sound of the moaning he had heard from the ridge. It was getting louder. It wasn't the moan of a dying soldier. It was the rhythmic, primal sound of labor.
He reached a larger vent that looked down into what had once been an operating theater.
The room was a hive of activity.
In the center, on a rusted gurney, lay a female Boar-Kin. She was massive, her belly swollen and undulating. Her legs were strapped into stirrups. She was screaming, her tusks gnashing against a leather bit strapped into her mouth.
Around her moved a dozen other females, acting as midwives. They carried basins of hot water and stacks of clean linen.
But it was the figure at the head of the table that made Nix stop breathing.
It was a male, but he wasn't a Boar-Kin. He was tall, gaunt, and wore a pristine white lab coat that seemed to repel the filth of the room. He wore a mask over his face, and his hands were encased in rubber gloves.
"Push," the Doctor said. His voice was calm, human, and utterly terrifying. "The dilation is complete. The hybrid is viable."
The Sow screamed again, a sound that tore at the air.
Nix watched, horrified and fascinated, as the birth happened.
It wasn't a normal birth. It was too fast. Too violent.
The Doctor reached in and pulled.
A wet, squealing shape slid onto the metal tray.
Nix squinted. It wasn't a piglet.
It was a baby. A humanoid infant. It had pink skin, a small, upturned nose, and tufts of black hair. But its ears were pointed. Sharp. Like an Elf.
"Subject 7-Alpha," the Doctor announced, handing the crying infant to a midwife. "Check the vitals. Prepare the incubator."
Nix's mind raced. Hybrid. Elf ears. Boar-Kin strength. Natural birth.
This wasn't just a hospital. It was a breeding program.
The Boar-Kin weren't being grown in pods anymore. They were breeding. And they were being cross-bred with something else. Something from the High Veil.
"Next," the Doctor said, snapping his gloves. "Bring in the next mother."
Nix backed away. He had seen enough. He needed to leave. Now.
He scrambled backward, his knees banging against the metal of the duct.
CLANG.
The sound echoed through the ventilation system like a gunshot.
Below, the Doctor looked up. His eyes, cold and blue above the mask, stared directly at the vent.
"Vermin," the Doctor said calmly. "Flush the vents."
Steam hissed.
Nix turned and scrambled. He didn't crawl; he scurried. Behind him, he heard the whoosh of high-pressure steam valves opening.
"Move, move, move!" Nix whispered to himself.
The heat was rising. The steam was chasing him, a white wall of scalding death.
He reached the junction. Left. Down. Right.
He could hear the Sows squealing below, raising the alarm. He heard the heavy thud of boots—the male guards were coming.
Nix threw himself down the vertical shaft, sliding uncontrollably. He hit the bottom curve with a bone-jarring thud, scrambled to the grate, and kicked it.
It didn't budge. Rusted shut.
The steam was coming. He could feel the heat blistering the back of his neck.
"Physics," Nix gasped. "Leverage."
He jammed his screwdriver into the mesh, using the frame as a fulcrum. He put his entire small weight behind it. Snap.
The grate flew off. Nix tumbled out into the grass, rolling through the mud just as a jet of white steam blasted out of the hole, wilting the ferns where he had been seconds before.
He didn't stop. He ran. He ran on all fours, scrambling up the ridge, ignoring the thorns tearing at his clothes.
Raina was pacing. Korg was sitting as still as a statue, watching the tree-line.
"He's late," Raina said, checking her nonexistent watch. "It's been twenty-five minutes. We go in."
"Wait," Korg rumbled. "Listen."
A crashing sound came from the brush.
Nix exploded out of the foliage, covered in soot, mud, and sweat. He collapsed at Raina's feet, heaving for air.
"Start... walking," Nix gasped. "Fast. Now."
"What happened?" Raina demanded, hauling him to his feet. "Did they see you?"
"They... smelled me," Nix wheezed. "And the Doctor... he has steam... vents."
Korg stood up, sniffing the air. "I smell fear on you, Little Dildo. What did you see?"
Nix adjusted his glasses. His hands were shaking violently.
"They aren't pods," Nix said, looking at Korg. "The Sows. They aren't sterile."
Korg's yellow eyes went wide. "Impossible. Pigs are made. Not born."
"Not anymore," Nix said. "I saw a maternity ward. Dozens of them. They are birthing them, Korg. Live births. And... they are changing the recipe."
"Changing?" Raina asked. "What do you mean?"
"The baby," Nix swallowed hard. "It had pointed ears. Like an Elf."
Raina felt a cold dread settle in her stomach. "Cross-breeding."
"With Fae stock," Nix confirmed. "Imagine the strength of a Boar-Kin with the agility and magic sensitivity of an Elf. And they are breeding them naturally. Exponential population growth."
Korg let out a low, vibrating growl that shook the leaves on the trees.
"If pigs breed," Korg said, "the Weald is lost."
"It gets worse," Nix said. "There was a Doctor. A human. Or something that looked human. He was orchestrating it."
"The Pale Man," Korg whispered. "He has moved South."
Raina looked back at the asylum. It looked silent and empty from here, but now she knew what was happening inside those brick walls. A factory. A biological weapon factory.
"This changes the mission," Raina said, her voice hard. "We aren't just escaping anymore. We have to tell Marcus. We have to warn Earth."
"If we can get out," Nix said. "They know we are here now. The hunt will be up."
Korg turned South. He unhooked the massive axe from his back, holding it in one hand like a hatchet.
"We move," Korg said. "Fast. To the Glade. Before the new pigs find us."
They ran. They didn't look back at the hospital, but Raina could feel the weight of it behind her. The rules had changed. The monsters weren't just anomalies anymore. They were evolving.
And somewhere in that building, a baby with pointed ears was crying for its mother.