The following day stretched out like a trail carved into bone. They moved west again, further than they had ever gone. The grass grew sparse, replaced by flat, cracked stone that glimmered faintly beneath the sun. Even Kain, for all his stoic command, glanced around now and then as though the air itself pressed closer the farther they went.
Moss rode at the front on Bran, eyes fixed on the ridges ahead, the ones he remembered from his dream. He didn't tell Kain how far they were really going; just that he wanted to verify terrain and possible mineral veins. Dole and Lyra exchanged uneasy looks but followed without question. Cid trudged behind, his pack clanking faintly with metal parts and glass vials.
"So, how far is this scouting mission supposed to go?" Kain finally asked, spinning his spear lazily as they walked.
Moss didn't turn around. "Until I see what I came for."
"Cryptic," Kain muttered. "Reminds me of our old captains. Always half answers and long marches."
Dole chuckled. "You'd be amazed how far half an answer gets you. Sometimes, it keeps the smart ones quiet."
"Or it gets them killed," Kain replied, tone sharp but not hostile.
Lyra gave him a sidelong glance. "You really don't trust anyone, do you?"
"I trust actions," Kain said. "Words are just smoke until something burns."
Cid adjusted his pack, snorting. "You talk like a soldier who's seen too much and learned too little."
Kain actually smiled at that, small, wry. "You're not wrong. But I've learned enough to know when something's off."
Moss finally spoke again. "You think something's off?"
"I think," Kain said, looking at the faint blue veins along the rocks, "you're not telling me everything. And I think whatever's pulling you this far out isn't a mineral deposit."
Moss didn't answer. He didn't have to.
The silence stretched as the wind picked up, dry and hollow. They passed the remains of what might've once been a watchtower, now just a stump of stone and rebar jutting from the earth.
Lyra frowned, running a hand along the rock. "This land's been broken before. Whatever tore it up…it wasn't time."
"Maybe it was the same thing that made those beasts follow one of their own," Dole said quietly.
Kain tilted his head. "You've seen the world past the Empire's borders. Tell me, how often does it tremble for no reason?"
"Never," Dole said simply.
For a while, they just walked. The conversation thinned, replaced by the crunch of gravel and the distant hum of wind over stone.
Cid's voice finally broke the quiet. "You know, for all your doom and gloom, this might be the most peaceful stretch we've had. No wolves. No beasts. Maybe the frontier's finally running out of ways to kill us."
Dole smirked. "Don't tempt it."
"Maybe it's listening," Lyra added, her tone teasing but uneasy.
Then Bran stopped walking.
The chocobo's head rose sharply, feathers flattening. Moss felt the shift immediately, something deep and old moving under the surface.
A faint tremor rolled through the ground, subtle at first. Then another, stronger. Stones rattled, Cid's tools clinked, and the air seemed to vibrate just enough to feel inside their ribs.
Moss gripped the reins. His heart was beating faster, too fast, like it wasn't his own pulse.
Lyra stepped closer. "Moss?"
He didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the horizon where the land began to swell. The surface lifted, then fell, like something vast shifting beneath it.
Kain lowered his spear, eyes narrowing. "Everyone, ready yourselves."
Moss barely heard him. That heartbeat in his chest, the same rhythm from his dreams, was pounding again, deep and resonant, syncing with the tremors beneath their feet.
The earth shuddered once more, harder this time. Pebbles jumped.
Dole's hand flared faintly with orange light, instinctively gathering aether. "Something's coming."
Moss swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper. "No… it's waking."