The creature had been following the groups scent since it noticed that it's prized possession was missing from the cave some time ago.
Evrin didn't know that yet. Didn't know what it was or why it had come.
All he knew was that the darkness beyond the firelight had begun to feel like a living thing, and the weight of its attention pressed against his skin like a hand.
Kestin's watch didn't last long.
Evrin watched the four-armed Vellon struggle against exhaustion for perhaps an hour before his five small amber eyes began to fade into darkness and his lower arms began twitching with decreasing frequency. His breathing deepened and evened out as he lowered himself to the ground, hovering an inch or two above the dirt in the way of his kind.
Then he was asleep.
Evrin's chest tightened.
He glanced toward Evris. She was curled against his side, her breathing shallow and uneven. Asleep, or close enough to it.
Across the fire, Marek had the stolen object pressed tight against his ribs even in sleep, one hand curled possessively around it like he thought someone might try to pry it away.
Rist was the only one still awake.
The Vyx stretched his long limbs and scanned the darkness with his crystal eye.
"Boss?" Rist's voice was quiet. Almost thoughtful. "Want me to check what it is?"
Marek stirred but didn't open his eyes.
"No. I need everyone here incase something happens."
Rist shrugged—a strange, disjointed motion that made his chitin plates scrape together.
He continued stretching, his movements languid and unhurried.
Evrin watched him.
The Vyx's left arm extended past the large rock where Evrin and Evris had been sitting earlier. His hand reached blindly into the dark, fingers splayed.
Something moved.
It happened too fast for Evrin to process.
One moment, Rist's hand was reaching into the shadows.
The next, a sound tore from his throat—the piercing, chittering wail his species was known for, but twisted into something agonized and wrong. It climbed in pitch, sharp as metal scraping glass, then broke into a wet, ragged gasp that cut through the camp like a blade.
Evrin's heart slammed against his ribs. He scrambled backward, dragging Evris with him, the chain scraping over stone and dirt.
Rist stared down at his hand.
A chunk and two of his three fingers were gone.
Sheared clean, as if something had bitten through chitin and bone in a single snap. Dark blood welled from the damage and ran down his pale arm in thick rivulets, pooling at his wrist.
"AW, WHAT THE FUCK?!"
The words ripped out of him—raw, high-pitched, trembling.
Rist clutched his ruined hand against his chest, his crystal eye wide and unfocused.
Evrin had never heard him sound like that before.
Afraid.
Something exploded from the camp's edge.
Evrin caught only a flash—sleek and dark and a little glowy, something luminescent pulsing beneath its skin. It moved low and impossibly fast, a blur of predatory grace that defied its size.
Then the darkness swallowed it whole.
The camp detonated into chaos.
Kestin jolted upright, all four hands splayed wide—upper palms raised, lower palms thrust outward as if to ward off an invisible threat. Marek's eyes snapped open. In one fluid motion, he whipped up his silver pistol, the metal flashing cold in the firelight.
For several heartbeats, no one moved.
Every eye fixed on Rist's mangled hand as the same realization settled over the camp like frost.
Whatever had done this was powerful enough to maim a Vyx in a heartbeat.
Kestin spun toward Marek.
"See?! I told you there was something big out there! That's what I saw!"
Marek didn't look at the wound.
He stared down at the object clutched against his chest. His expression was strange—greed and terror flickering across his face like competing flames.
"Fuck this, we're using it!"
The words fell into the silence like stones into deep water.
Evrin didn't understand what they meant, but he felt the weight of them. Felt the way everyone went still.
Rist clutched his mangled arm, mandibles clicking in rapid, involuntary spasms as blood dripped steadily onto the dirt. Evrin and Evris moved in with bandages, their hands shaking.
"You sure you want to use that?" Rist's voice had gone tight, strained through the pain. "You know the ris—AH!"
His good hand lashed out, catching Evrin across the shoulder and sending him sprawling.
"You little shit! Watch what you're doing!"
The blow caught Evrin across the shoulder and sent him sprawling. Pain flared hot and bright, but he bit down on the sound trying to escape his throat.
Evrin pushed himself up on trembling arms. His vision swam.
Evris was beside him, her hands on his shoulders, pulling him back toward the edge of the firelight.
Across the camp, Kestin was already moving, all four arms gathering supplies in a frantic blur. His upper orbed hands glowed bright—one opening a small portal for supplies, the other seeming to accelerate his lower hands as they pulled items through in rapid succession.
"Don't bother, Rist." His voice was tight. Resigned. "Once Marek makes up his mind, there's no changing it."
Marek pointed into the dark, his stolen prize clutched even tighter to his chest than before.
His voice trembled—fear and excitement braided together into something dangerous. "And whatever's out there just tore through a Vyx in late-stage Husk, like it was nothing!"
He sat heavily, placing the prized object between his knees. Then he began digging into the dirt with his hands using them in frantic coordination.
Earth flew behind him in frantic sprays.
His breathing came harsh and quick.
He glanced toward the darkness beyond the firelight.
"Kestin. Hand over the Blood Seed."
Kestin was still gathering supplies. All four arms moved at once, sorting through packs and bundles with the kind of desperate efficiency that came from long practice.
Without thinking, he directed a packs opening to Marek and flung something out toward him.
Marek's eyes widened in horror.
"YOU DUMBASS!"
He threw himself sideways, one hand clawing at the dirt for purchase. The object struck the ground inches from where he'd been kneeling, sending up a small spray of earth.
"YOU COULD HAVE KILLED ME!"
Kestin froze with supplies frozen mid-air.
"Oh shit, sorry. I forgot about the blood in Blood Seed…"
Marek stared at the object lying in the dirt. His chest heaved.
"You four-armed floating hazard of a vulk!"
Evrin's gaze fixed on the thing Kestin had thrown.
It looked like a seed. Or maybe a shard. Something sharp and jagged that pulsed with a faint, rhythmic crimson glow.
Blood Seed.
The name made sense now.
Carefully—very carefully—Marek picked it up and placed it in the hole. He buried it halfway, leaving part of it exposed to the night air.
The visible portion pulsed. Red light spilled across the dirt in slow, steady waves.
Evrin felt something stir in his chest. Not quite fear. Not quite recognition.
Just a sense that whatever was happening now would change everything.
Rist watched from nearby. His injured hand was wrapped in a thick bundle of blood-stained bandages that were already soaking through.
"So why don't we just kill it?" he asked. "I'm pretty sure the three of us could take that thing."
Marek ignored him at first, patting the dirt around the pulsing seed with meticulous care.
"You idiot. We can't kill it now. It just took a bite out of you."
He looked up at the towering creature, expression grim.
"Do you understand how tough your kind is?"
Rist shrugged.
Marek looked up, and his face had gone pale.
"Are you fucking insane?"
His voice cracked on the last word.
Rist blinked. "What?"
Marek stared at him as if stupidity itself had taken physical form.
"It bit clean through your hand, Rist. Your hand. Do you get what that means?"
Rist shrugged, glancing at his bandaged fingers.
"It got lucky. Caught me off guard. Won't happen again."
Marek's laugh came out strangled, almost hysterical. "Lucky?" He jabbed a finger at Rist's bandaged hand. "You're covered in chitin that can turn a blade. I've seen you take hits that would pulverize bone—bites that would tear through muscle and tendon—and you don't even flinch. Not a scratch."
He pointed toward the darkness with a shaking finger.
"And that thing out there just bit through it."
The silence that followed felt heavier than the iron ball chaining the slaves.
Kestin had stopped packing. All four arms twitching more than ever before.
Rist's crystal eye dimmed slightly.
"So what do we do?"
Marek stared at the pulsing Blood Seed, his eyes darting toward the black horizon.
"We get help. Now."
Rist's crystal eye flicked toward the two slaves huddled near the fire, trembling beneath the weight of their chains.
"Then use the runts, their blood is thin, but they've got enough to spare. Why waste mine?"
Marek seized Rist's bandaged hand and squeezed the fresh wound.
Rist winced, a hiss of air escaping through his mouth plates and mandibles.
"Because we don't have time!" Marek roared, face inches from the Vyx's shielded skull. "That thing is out there. Every second we waste arguing about whose blood is pure enough, it's hunting us—waiting for us to let our guard down. Slave blood is too weak for a jump this far. It would sputter out before the gate even formed. But yours? Yours is rich. Dense. Thick with the strength of your kind."
He jabbed a finger toward the pulsing shard.
"You're Husk-rank, but you're still Vyx. Big body. Strong blood. It'll hold long enough to pull through a couple Husk-ranks—maybe an early-stage Primal or two if we're lucky, whether Dezcrin agrees or not." He paused, letting the weight settle. "That's our window. That's all we get."
Rist looked at his mangled hand, then back at the pulsing seed.
He knew Marek was right.
But the thought of feeding a half-buried pulsing shard with his own life-force made his skin crawl.
"Hurry," Marek snapped, shoving him toward the hole. "The seed is set. If we don't activate it now, we're serving ourselves up as a four-course meal."
Rist knelt beside the hole. Slowly, he unwound the blood-soaked bandages from his ruined hand.
Dark, viscous fluid dripped onto the crimson surface.
The Blood Seed drank.