The gates closed behind them.
The sound echoed across the plains like a funeral bell.
Heavy.
Final.
Unforgiving.
Thousands of candidates continued marching north.
Nobody looked back.
At least not openly.
Yet Zeven noticed many stealing glances toward Varkas.
The city was already shrinking behind them.
The last true bastion of civilization they would see for some time.
The road stretched endlessly ahead.
Cold wind swept across the plains.
Dark clouds drifted above distant mountains.
The peaks seemed closer now.
And far more threatening.
The silence lasted for hours.
Even Dak wasn't talking much.
A worrying sign.
The soldiers escorting them remained spread along the road.
Watching.
Always watching.
Not the candidates.
The surroundings.
As if expecting something to emerge from the wilderness at any moment.
Eventually the terrain began changing.
The open plains disappeared.
Rolling hills replaced them.
Ancient stone markers appeared along the road.
Weathered by time.
Covered in symbols none of the candidates recognized.
Some leaned sideways.
Others had cracked in half.
Yet all of them pointed north.
Always north.
Matthew frowned.
"Anyone know what those are?"
"No."
"Good."
"Just making sure nobody else knew."
A few nervous smiles appeared.
Then vanished.
The atmosphere felt wrong.
Again.
Zeven felt it first.
A pressure.
Subtle.
Barely noticeable.
Yet present.
The farther north they walked...
The stronger it became.
As if the air itself was growing heavier.
As if the world was watching.
He focused.
The sensation returned.
Those strange currents.
Nexis.
Flowing beneath everything.
The ground.
The sky.
The wind.
Invisible rivers crossing Nythara.
For a moment he thought he could almost see them.
Then the sensation vanished.
A headache followed.
Sharp.
Brief.
Gone.
Zeven frowned.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Hours later the sky darkened.
Not from nightfall.
From clouds.
Massive black clouds rolled over the mountains.
Thunder echoed in the distance.
Cold rain began falling.
The road became mud.
Nobody complained.
Nobody had the energy.
The candidates continued forward.
Wet.
Exhausted.
Silent.
Then somebody screamed.
Every head turned.
A boy had collapsed near the center of the road.
Panic spread immediately.
Several candidates rushed toward him.
The soldiers arrived first.
The boy's body convulsed violently.
Blood poured from his nose.
His eyes were wide.
Terrified.
Then...
Nothing.
Silence.
Dead.
Just like that.
The crowd froze.
"What happened?"
"Was he attacked?"
"Poison?"
Nobody knew.
One of the soldiers crouched beside the corpse.
His expression remained calm.
Too calm.
"He pushed too hard."
The candidates stared.
Nobody understood.
The soldier looked up.
"He tried forcing Nexis into a body that wasn't ready."
Silence.
"He killed himself."
Fear spread instantly.
Several candidates stepped backward.
The soldier stood.
"As a warning."
His gaze swept across the crowd.
"Nexis is power."
His voice became colder.
"And power kills fools."
Nobody spoke after that.
The corpse was carried away.
The march continued.
But something had changed.
The candidates finally understood.
Monsters weren't the only danger.
Nythara itself could kill them.
Night approached once again.
Camp was established near the ruins of an ancient watchtower.
Or what remained of one.
Broken stone walls rose from the earth.
Half swallowed by moss and vines.
Evidence of a forgotten age.
Fires were lit.
Rations distributed.
Guards positioned around the camp.
Zeven sat with Dak, Matthew, Ozias and Kael.
Nobody talked much.
The dead boy remained fresh in everyone's mind.
Eventually Dak broke the silence.
"I miss Earth."
Nobody answered immediately.
Then Matthew nodded.
"Me too."
Ozias stared into the fire.
"We can't go back."
"I know."
Dak sighed.
"I still miss it."
The fire crackled softly.
The wind howled through the ruins.
For a moment...
They looked like ordinary teenagers again.
Not candidates.
Not future warriors.
Just boys far from home.
Then a horn sounded.
Once.
Short.
Sharp.
Every soldier immediately stood.
Conversations stopped.
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
Danger.
The candidates felt it immediately.
One soldier climbed the ruined watchtower.
Another drew his weapon.
Then another.
And another.
The camp fell silent.
Zeven slowly stood.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
The wind carried a sound from the darkness beyond the hills.
A distant sound.
Faint.
Almost impossible to hear.
Almost.
Scratching.
Hundreds of scratches.
Moving through the night.
Coming closer.
And closer.
And closer.
The soldier atop the tower looked north.
His face went pale.
For the first time since leaving Varkas...
Zeven saw genuine fear in a veteran's eyes.
Then the man shouted.
"CONTACT!"
And somewhere beyond the darkness...
Something answered.
A long, unnatural scream.
Not human.
Not animal.
Something else.
Something hungry.
And it was coming toward them.
The shout exploded across the camp.
Every soldier moved instantly.
Weapons drawn.
Orders barked.
Defensive lines formed.
The candidates froze.
Most had never seen real danger.
Not like this.
Not danger that made experienced soldiers afraid.
The scream echoed again.
Closer.
Longer.
The sound seemed to crawl beneath their skin.
Several candidates visibly trembled.
One dropped his ration bowl.
Nobody laughed.
The soldier atop the tower pointed toward the darkness.
"Movement!"
The hills beyond the camp were almost completely black now.
Only moonlight illuminated their outlines.
For several seconds...
Nothing happened.
Then Zeven saw it.
A silhouette.
Small.
Moving unnaturally fast.
Then another.
And another.
And another.
Dozens.
The crowd erupted.
"What are those?!"
"Monsters!"
"Oh gods..."
"SHUT UP!"
A captain's roar silenced everyone.
The soldiers formed a defensive perimeter around the road.
Not around the candidates.
Around the road.
That detail didn't escape Zeven.
The road mattered.
The candidates didn't.
If necessary...
They would be abandoned.
The shapes reached the edge of the moonlight.
And everyone finally saw them.
A collective gasp spread through the camp.
They looked human.
Almost.
Their bodies were thin.
Too thin.
Gray skin stretched over visible bones.
Their limbs were longer than normal.
Their fingers ended in black claws.
No eyes.
Only empty sockets.
Their mouths split nearly to their ears.
Filled with rows of needle-like teeth.
Dak whispered.
"Nope."
Nobody disagreed.
The creatures stopped.
Hundreds of meters away.
Watching.
Waiting.
One stepped forward.
Then another.
The scratching intensified.
The captain's face darkened.
"Dusk Crawlers."
The name alone sounded wrong.
Ancient.
Unpleasant.
A nearby candidate swallowed nervously.
"What rank are they?"
The captain answered without taking his eyes off the creatures.
"Not dangerous alone."
The candidate relaxed slightly.
Then the captain continued.
"They never travel alone."
The relief vanished immediately.
More shapes appeared atop the hills.
Dozens.
Then hundreds.
Then more.
The darkness itself seemed to move.
A sea of pale figures.
Watching the camp.
Watching the candidates.
Watching the soldiers.
The atmosphere became suffocating.
Nobody breathed.
Nobody moved.
Even the wind seemed to disappear.
Then something happened.
One of the Crawlers slowly tilted its head.
Directly toward Zeven.
The necklace beneath his tunic became warm.
Not hot.
Warm.
A faint pulse.
Then another.
Zeven froze.
Nobody else seemed to notice.
The creature continued staring.
Seconds passed.
Then it slowly stepped backward.
One step.
Then another.
The others followed.
The army of monsters began retreating.
Silence consumed the hills.
The soldiers looked confused.
The captain looked confused.
Even the veterans seemed uncertain.
Nobody understood.
Dusk Crawlers didn't retreat.
They hunted.
They fed.
Yet now they were leaving.
Slowly disappearing into darkness.
Until only one remained.
The first one.
The one staring at Zeven.
It lingered for several moments.
Then vanished.
The hills became silent once more.
Nobody spoke.
Finally one soldier muttered:
"That shouldn't have happened."
The captain nodded.
"No."
"It shouldn't."
Hours passed before the camp relaxed.
No fires were allowed afterward.
No loud conversations.
No unnecessary movement.
The candidates lay awake.
Fear replacing exhaustion.
Dak eventually whispered from nearby.
"I hate this world."
Matthew sighed.
"You're only realizing that now?"
"Shut up."
For once, nobody laughed.
Zeven stared upward.
Toward the three moons.
Toward the darkness beyond them.
His hand drifted toward the necklace beneath his tunic.
The metal remained faintly warm.
Almost as if it had reacted.
Or perhaps...
The creatures had reacted to it.
That thought disturbed him more than the monsters.
The warmth slowly faded.
Until it disappeared completely.
Leaving only questions.
Questions without answers.
Above them, the moons continued their silent journey across the sky.
Watching.
Waiting.
As they had watched countless generations before.
And somewhere within the endless darkness of Nythara...
An ancient echo stirred for the briefest moment.
Not awakened.
Not remembered.
Merely disturbed.
Like a forgotten scar aching before a storm.
Then even that feeling vanished.
Leaving only silence.
And the long road north.