MasukFor several seconds, I simply stared at him.Jacob Morgan.Khaelon's stepbrother.The last time I had seen him was yesterday, during the chaos that seemed to follow Khaelon wherever he went.Out of all the people I expected to sit across from me in the library, Jacob wasn't one of them.He smiled casually."Hey, Vida."I blinked."Jacob."He leaned back in his chair."You look less miserable today."I narrowed my eyes."That's a strange greeting.""It's an honest greeting."I couldn't argue with that.Yesterday had been horrible.Compared to that, today was definitely an improvement."Thanks, I guess."Jacob laughed."See? You're already doing better."I studied him carefully.Something about this felt strange.Not bad.Just unexpected.We barely knew each other.Yet he was sitting across from me as if we were already friends."You always talk to random people in the library?"He pointed at me."You're not random."I frowned."We've spoken exactly once.""Twice now."I rolled my eyes.
The chamber remained silent after the word extinction.Not a sound echoed through the massive room.Not even the hum.As though the structure itself was waiting.Watching.Calculating.Beside me, Jaron stood perfectly still.For once, the Alpha biker who never hesitated looked genuinely unsettled.His jaw tightened.His blue eyes remained locked on the glowing core."Extinction," he repeated quietly.The word sounded ridiculous when spoken aloud.Impossible.Yet somehow far more terrifying.Because nothing about this place felt like it was lying.I swallowed."What kind of extinction?"The voice answered immediately."Probability branch undefined."Jaron sighed heavily."That doesn't answer anything.""It answers enough."The voice faded.The glow dimmed slightly.And then silence returned.I looked toward Jaron.His expression had changed.Not fear.Focus.The same expression he wore before leading his riders into dangerous territory.The same look he had during pack emergencies.The
The descent toward the structure was slower than before.Not because the terrain demanded it.But because something about the place did.The air felt heavier the closer we got, as if the valley itself resisted movement. Every step carried a weight that had nothing to do with gravity. Even the wind seemed to bend around the structure instead of passing through it.Jaron noticed it too.“You feel that?” he asked, his voice low but steady.“Yes,” I replied, eyes fixed ahead. “Pressure.”“Like being watched?”“Not exactly.”He frowned slightly. “Then what?”I took another step down the slope before answering.“Like being measured.”That earned a quiet exhale from him.“…Yeah. That’s worse.”Behind us, the others followed at staggered intervals, just as we planned. No fixed formation. No predictable rhythm. It still felt wrong, but less wrong than before.Jaron glanced back briefly.“They’re holding the spacing,” he said. “No one’s slipping into pattern yet.”“Good,” I said. “Keep it that
The smoke thickened as we pushed south.At first it lingered like a warning—thin, uncertain, easy to dismiss.Then it became a trail.Then a presence.By the time the first ridge broke open ahead of us, it was everywhere.Jaron slowed, raising a hand. The group behind us stopped instantly.No one spoke.We didn’t need to.I moved up beside him, crouching low as we approached the crest.“Wind’s wrong,” he murmured.“It’s shifting,” I said. “Carrying it uphill.”“Which means whatever’s burning…”“Is still burning.”We reached the top.And saw it.The valley below—one of the southern supply corridors—was scarred.Not destroyed entirely.But dismantled.Precision.The storage outpost had been split open, not collapsed. Timber walls cut clean rather than smashed. Supply crates broken—not looted, not fully burned—just ruined.Made unusable.Jaron exhaled slowly.“…Yeah. That tracks.”My eyes moved past the structures.To the bodies.Not many.That was the first thing that stood out.A norma
We didn’t speak much on the way back.Not because there was nothing to say—But because there was too much.The forest had shifted again.Not physically.But perceptibly.Every snapped twig, every rustle of leaves, every shadow between trees now carried weight. Not immediate danger—no one was following us—but awareness.We had crossed a line.And whatever came next would not be small.Jaron walked slightly ahead this time, his usual loose posture replaced with something more deliberate.“You’re thinking five steps ahead again,” he said without looking back.“Trying to.”“And?”“And I don’t like any of the outcomes.”He huffed quietly.“Good. Means you’re being realistic.”We pushed through a stretch of dense undergrowth before the terrain finally began to rise toward the fortress ridge.From here, we could just barely see the outer watchtowers in the distance.Home.For now.“They wanted us to hear that,” Jaron said after a while.“Yes.”“The external threat.”“Yes.”He glanced over h
The ravine swallowed sound.Water thundered below, churning white against jagged stone, mist rising in cold bursts that clung to the air. It blurred distance, softened edges, made everything feel closer than it should have been.Or farther.Hard to tell which.Jaron shifted beside me, weight balanced, gaze sweeping across the figures lining the opposite ridge.“…That’s more than last time.”“Yes,” I said.Behind the silver-pendant figure, at least six silhouettes stood spaced with deliberate precision.Not clustered.Not random.Positioned.“They’re controlling the terrain,” Jaron murmured.“Funneling us,” I added.His lips curved slightly.“Good thing we walked in willingly.”The figure across the ravine tilted their head, as if amused.“You adapted quickly,” they called out, voice carrying cleanly despite the roar of water.Jaron didn’t bother raising his voice.“Occupational hazard.”A faint smile.“But adaptation alone isn’t enough.”“No,” I replied evenly. “But it’s a start.”The
The relief I felt was fragile, a thread barely holding me together. My mother’s chest rose and fell steadily, but her face remained pale, lips slightly parted in sleep. I pressed a hand to hers, brushing over her knuckles as if my presence alone could help her heal. Jaron crouched beside me, his ex
The hospital waiting room was cold, sterile, and unwelcoming. Every tick of the clock echoed like a drum, each second a reminder that my mother was in the hands of strangers in a room filled with surgical tools and sharp, dangerous intentions.I clutched the blanket I had brought, twisting it in my
The day passed slowly, each hour stretching longer than the last. The fluorescent lights of the hospital hummed softly, a constant reminder that my mother’s life rested in the balance.I had spent most of the morning holding her hand, keeping her company, whispering stories about my childhood and t
The next morning, the sunlight filtering through the hospital blinds was harsh, sharp, almost accusing. I sat beside my mother, holding her hand, counting her breaths, watching her sleep. The steady beep of her heart monitor was reassuring, but it also reminded me that time was slipping away, that







