The single hare lay limp in Eris's grip, its gray fur darkened with drizzle. It was a meager prize, made even more bitter by the ruined wire snares they had found further up the path.
Eris cast a dark look at the empty thickets, jaw tight, as he stared up at the steep incline rising ahead.
"We can't go back with just this," Kaylah said. She stared at the bare patch of earth where their last snare should have been. "One small hare won't even flavor the broth for the four. And Elder Soren is still waiting for those mushrooms."
Eris looked down at his bow, then lifted his eyes toward the steep, jagged incline rising directly ahead of them.
"We keep going," he said. "Past the boundary."
Kaylah went still.
"Eris, that's blood-hunter territory." Her eyes lifted toward the rugged slopes. "Only seasoned hunters come this far. If Ruvio finds out—"
"Grandpa isn't here," Eris said quietly. "We'll only go as far as the ridge. Look for roots, greens, and mushrooms. If we don't find anything, we turn back."
Kaylah hesitated. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her satchel before she gave a nod. "Fine. But we stay low, and we keep our eyes open."
They climbed in silence, leaving the familiar paths behind.
The land changed as they rose. The scrub thinned, giving way to broken ridges and stunted trees. The ground was rougher here, split by old cracks and loose stone. Tracks were scarce.
Eris kept his bow low, his fingers near the string. Beside him, Kaylah moved quietly, her eyes sweeping the soil for signs of edible roots or hidden movement.
They stopped together at the crest of the hill.
This was as far north as they had ever dared to go. From the ridge, the dead world opened before them. Broken ridges that rolled down toward the forbidden zone—the shallow gorge. Beyond the chasm, the wasteland stretched out into a chaotic patchwork of dead scrub and the old-world ruins.
"Where is it?" Eris murmured. His eyes followed the far edge of the gorge.
Kaylah frowned. "Where's what?"
"The path." He pointed with the tip of his arrow. "The one we took when we were saved. Do you remember?"
Kaylah felt the small hairs at her nape rise. She hugged her elbows against the morning chill, remembering the drop-off all too well. They crossed the lip of that chasm years ago, when Ruvio led them back to Haven. By then, they had been exhausted, frightened, and barely able to stand.
"I remember some of it," she said. Her voice softened. "The glass-back still haunts me."
"I was terrified too," Eris said, pointing with his arrow toward a sharp, crumbling ridge near the drop. "But I remember part of the way. Somewhere along there."
Kaylah followed the line of his arrow, and the color seemed to drain from her face.
"That ridge?"
"I think so. If I hadn't been so dazed, I might remember exactly where we came out."
"You said that before."
"It was a tunnel. I'm sure of that." Eris studied the broken slope. "Last season, we tried to find where we came out on this side. I nearly slid over the edge."
Kaylah's eyes widened. "That was your fault. You said the ground looked solid."
"And you saved me."
"Only because I didn't want to explain to Elder Ruvio how you fell into a gorge."
A faint smile touched Eris's mouth, but it faded when Kaylah stepped away from the loose ground.
"We're hunting beyond the boundary," she said. "I'll risk the northern ridge for food, Eris. But I'm not going back into that place."
Eris lowered his arrow, but his gaze remained fixed on the broken ridge. "It still scares me," he admitted. "But we can't keep running from it forever."
Kaylah studied him. For a moment, she saw the frightened boy Ruvio had carried through those dark tunnels—the boy who had once clung to her hand whenever the ground shook.
But that boy was gone.
Eris stood beside her now, lean and weathered, with old scars crossing his arms and a bow resting easily in his hand. He was still afraid. He had simply learned to keep moving with it.
A small smile touched her lips. "You're not that boy anymore," she muttered.
"Neither are you."
Her smile faded as she looked back toward the gorge. "Maybe," she murmured. "But I'm still not going down there."
He didn't argue. The gorge wasn't as deep as the precipice toward the sunset, but it was just as lethal—a sheer drop of loose shale where one bad step meant broken bones. Or worse.
---
Farther down, an old railroad line wound into the depths of the chasm. At the bottom ran what remained of the river—a toxic current that sometimes vanished beneath the porous limestone before resurfacing miles away.
On the other side, scrub oak and stunted brush grew thick enough to choke out the daylight.
Eris studied the dips and ridges along the valley floor.
"You think there's a big city beyond all that?" he asked.
His gaze shifted toward a second set of rusted rails farther to the right. The remains of the old track descended from the dead horizon and disappeared toward the canyon floor. Both lines seemed to converge near the dry riverbed.
Kaylah let out a quiet breath. A faint smile softened her face. "Dunno. Old Rhys loved that story, though. He swore his grandfather rode those metal cars when he was young."
She nodded toward the rails.
"Said hundreds of people used to sit inside them every morning just to go to work."
"Inside giant iron boxes?" Eris snorted. "Can you imagine?"
Kaylah gave a brief shrug and smiled.
"How old was his grandfather supposed to be?" Eris continued. "Older than the chasm itself?"
"Maybe." She shrugged. "But Elder Ruvio's older, for sure."
Eris nodded slowly. The humor faded into a quiet respect.
"Yeah. The old man acts as if he lived through the Great Quake itself. Like he actually saw the comet before the sky bled silver, just like the legends say."
He looked farther beyond the gorge. A vast black forest loomed against the gray horizon.
Even from this distance, the trees looked wrong. They were too dark, too dense, too tangled.
That was Ruvio's territory.
"Grandpa still crosses those woods," Eris said quietly.
Kaylah glanced at him. "You really think he still goes out there? Alone?"
"He has to." Eris gave a small smile. "And hey, he's your grandpa too. He took in all four of us."
"Yeah, I know," Kaylah nodded. "I'm just not used to calling him that. I'm not as close to him as you are. Why?"
"Why?" Eris asked, caught slightly off guard.
Kaylah hesitated, then looked back at the dark forest.
"I mean, why does he keep going out there?" She nodded toward the distant trees. "He says it isn't safe. He forbids everyone else from crossing into those woods. So why does he keep going alone?"
"Because he has to," Eris cut in sharply. "That's what he said. And besides... that's where he found us."
The memory hit him without warning. The screams. The shattering concrete, the armored bulk of the glass-back beast looming over them.
For one terrible moment, Eris was a frightened child again—frozen beneath the ruins, certain the beast would tear through them before anyone could help.
Years had passed since that night.
The fear had not.
Ruvio had led their small, shivering group through a hidden passage and out of the ruins. No one else in Haven knew where the route began or where it emerged.
No one dared ask the old man where it was. The passage remained one of the old man's most carefully guarded secrets.
Kaylah stared at the distant tree line. Her thoughts drifted beneath those black branches, following paths no one in Haven was allowed to take.
She often wondered what Ruvio had found during his solitary journeys.
Around the campfires, the elders spoke of enormous ruins hidden deep within the forest. They whispered of paved roads buried beneath roots, forgotten settlements, and a city larger than any other still standing.
And, if the stories were true, untouched machines.
Gears.
Tools.
Old-world devices waiting to be salvaged.
A small smile touched Kaylah's face.
The thought lingered between them—heavy, forbidden, and tempting.
---
"Come on," Eris said, breaking the heavy silence hanging over the chasm. "We're wasting time out here."
Before turning away, he glanced toward the land where the sun would set.
For an instant, something flashed deep in the valley. A thin metallic glint.
Then it vanished behind the rocks and tangled brush.
Eris narrowed his eyes. He could not tell what had caught the light—or whether he had truly seen anything at all. Still, he fixed the spot in his memory before leaving the gorge behind.
They turned toward the safer, rocky stretches along the northern boundary.
Over the next few hours, the focus Ruvio had drilled into him finally paid off. By combining his sight with the subtle hum of the silver in his wrist, Eris managed to down three more fat hares.
By midday, their satchels were heavy with meat, a handful of bitterroot, and a few resilient herbs. It wasn't a feast, but it would quiet a few empty stomachs in Haven Below.
Above them, storm clouds gathered in thick, dark layers. The valley air turned colder, and the wind carried the promise of rain.
It was time to go home.
They skirted the shallow brook near the old greenhouses. The longer path would keep them away from the loose slopes, but it would also leave them exposed if the storm broke early.
Then the wind shifted. It carried a metallic scent that didn't belong to the rain-soaked scrubland—copper and something sour.
Eris slowed to a halt. Kaylah followed a second later, her shoulders locking as her fingers twitched toward the patch knife at her belt.
"Eris," she whispered. "Look..." A dark stain spread across a patch of gray grass, buzzing with a swarm of flies.
Eris tracked the trail as it led to a thick tangle of briars. "A shoe," he muttered, pointing his unnotched arrow through the thorns. "There, behind the bush."
Kaylah stepped toward the heavy leather boot; her scavenger instincts overcame her caution. "You could use this if we find the other pair. The sole is still—"
She suddenly scrambled backward into the dirt with a choked gasp. "There's... there's a foot still inside it!"
Eris immediately stepped in front of her, his bow raised as he stared down at the lone boot. The leather around the ankle had been torn apart.
What remained inside was crushed and bloodied.
Eris forced his eyes away from it and searched the ground. Deep, gouged furrows ran through the mud. Someone had been dragged across the valley floor. The trail led toward the higher ground.
"What kind of teeth did this?" Kaylah whispered, her hands shaking as she scrambled to her feet. "Wolves couldn't bite through leather like that."
"...Not wolves," Eris murmured, a cold knot tightening in his stomach. "Something much bigger."
He dropped to one knee, keeping his bow angled toward the surrounding brush.
A torn piece of dark fabric hung from a thornbush nearby.
Eris nudged it with the tip of his arrow.
The cloth was thick and tightly woven. Reinforced leather had been stitched along one side. It was cleaner and better made than the patched clothing worn in Haven Below.
"That's not from Haven. The elders would know if someone was missing."
A few paces beyond the briars, something caught the weak daylight. Half-buried in the mud lay a narrow brass cylinder.
Eris stepped carefully toward it.
He picked it up.
The cylinder was heavy and solid. A strip of stitched leather wrapped its middle, and the lenses at either end remained unbroken.
"A spyglass," Kaylah whispered.
Eris looked back toward the ridge.
The glint.
This had been what he saw.
He slipped the spyglass into his satchel beside the hares, then marked the edge of the thicket with a broken branch.
"Maybe it belongs to the Ghost Walkers," Kaylah breathed, her voice trembling against the rising wind. "Barik has one, though not as good as this."
"Not a Walker," Eris said quietly, his silver blood humming low in his wrist as he studied the gore. "The leather is too fresh. It's a soldier. The trader's rumors... the war is here."
The wind howled through the rocks. Deep beneath his skin, Eris' arm prickled violently. The silver throbbed like an alarm against his bone—an icy spike of pure instinct. He had learned long ago never to ignore it.
"We need to move," Eris whispered, backing away from the thicket. "The blood is still fresh. Whatever did this could still be around."
Kaylah didn't argue. Looking down at the bloody boot and the brass spyglass, neither of them found any comfort in the weight of their prize.
---
They hurried the rest of the way back to Haven.
The satchel of game thumped against Kaylah's hip with every step. Four hares should have felt like a victory, but neither of them spoke much.
The mangled boot stayed in Eris's mind. So did the coppery stink of blood.
Only after they passed through Haven's outer gate and crossed checkpoints did the knot in Eris's stomach begin to loosen.
The moment they stepped through their door—a chorus of relieved cries erupted from the gloom.
Leo was on his feet instantly. At thirteen, he was all long limbs and pointed elbows. Hunger had made his face thinner over the past few months, but his eyes brightened the moment he saw the bulky satchel.
He grabbed it from Kaylah's shoulder and nearly tipped backward beneath the weight.
"Four?" he asked. His grin widened. "You actually got four?"
Before anyone could answer, little Myrah scrambled onto a rusted water pipe bolted to the stone wall. "Queen of Dinner!" she declared. She climbed higher.
Kaylah caught her around the waist before gravity could settle the argument.
"You are not unbreakable yet, little one."
Two older residents passed their doorway. They slowed when they saw the game. One glanced at Eris's wrist, where the faint silver beneath his skin had not yet faded completely.
"The silver boy brought back meat," the woman muttered.
Her companion gave a dry grunt. "Maybe he'll earn his share after all."
They shuffled off down the gravel corridor. Eris ignored them. Out here, prejudice was as common as dust. Some people feared the silver in his veins. Others simply resented anyone who seemed different. There was no point arguing with either.
They ate together in the small room, their legs tangled beneath ragged blankets and around overturned wooden crates.
The broth was thin, but Kaylah added a pinch of precious rock salt bartered with the roaming traders. The scent of cooked meat filled the room.
For one evening, it felt like a feast.
They cooked two of the hares. The other two were rubbed with salt and hung near the cool draft of the ventilation shaft. A generous portion of the cooked meat was set aside for the elderly neighbors who had shared their wood when the children's brazier had gone cold.
Myrah claimed a small bone and held it like a royal scepter.
Leo sat beside Eris with a tattered hand-drawn map spread across his knees.
His fingers traced drainage pipes and broken ventilation shafts he had mapped during his day-long exploration of the safe sectors. He babbled eagerly about scrap gears they could use to fix the doorway latch.
When the meal was finished, Eris leaned back against the stone wall and began telling them a story.
His voice dropped into the slow, familiar tone Old Rhys used whenever he spoke of the old world.
"The Ghost Buck of the Upper Wastes had antlers like broken iron," Eris said. "Sharp enough to tear through a tree."
Myrah's eyes widened. "It ate rabbits?"
"No. It ate moss."
"That's boring."
"It ate people too, but it could only eat moss because the hunter Jannah was clever enough to keep it from eating anything else."
That caught Leo's attention. "What did she do?"
Eris paused. "She watched where the buck walked. She learned which rocks it avoided and where it drank. Then she led it away without using a single arrow."
Kaylah rested her head against the wall. "Sounds like Dara."
Eris glanced at her. "Dara would probably wrestle it."
The thought brought another face to his mind.
Luna.
The quiet girl Ruvio had brought back to Haven years ago. She often watched Eris from the shadows, disappearing whenever he tried to approach.
For no reason he understood, the memory left a faint chill in his chest.
He continued the story. By the time Jannah led the Ghost Buck beyond the northern hills, Myrah was asleep against Kaylah's shoulder.
Leo lasted a few minutes longer. Then his head drooped over the map.
The room grew quiet.
Only the soft breathing of the children remained.
Kaylah shifted carefully so she would not wake Myrah. Her fingers brushed Eris's wrist.
The silver beneath his skin gave a faint, restless flicker.
Eris looked down. The glow faded almost at once.
"One day," she murmured, her voice barely audible, "you'll learn to command it without breaking yourself."
Eris offered only a tired smile—a brief flash of teeth in the dim light. No grand promises. Just the quiet understanding between them.
Eris had fallen asleep against the stone wall, his head tilted to one side. Exhaustion had claimed him before he could finish folding the map. His breathing was slow and even. The silver in his wrist had settled into a faint, resting pulse.
Kaylah watched him for a long moment. Her hand hovered above his arm. She almost touched him. Then she pulled it back.
Her jaw tightened.
The wasteland can't have you yet, she promised silently.
The peace shattered.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The sound tore through the warrens.
It was followed by frantic, terrified shouts—a sound Kaylah had heard only once before in her entire life.
The night the concrete collapsed.
The night their parents left them in the cellar.
The clamor surged through the stone tunnels toward their sector, a wave of panic. Shouted orders echoed off the walls—a call for immediate emergency action at the perimeter fence.
Eris' eyes snapped open in the pitch dark.
The silver veins in his arm flared into a brilliant, blinding glow.
Something had breached the gate.
***