The days pressed onward with a sluggish cruelty, each hour soaked in tension so thick it felt like walking through water. Kael awoke from restless fragments of sleep, throat dry, heart hammering with images he couldn't shake — Daric's crushed body, Toma's guarded eyes, Dominion officers whispering behind canvas walls.
Their camp was smaller now. What remained of the squad clustered together more out of instinct than order, as if sheer proximity could ward off the creeping dread. Ayla kept checking her blades, oiling them so much that her fingers were stained black. Nell moved stiffly, still replaying Daric's death in every hollow stare. Garrick tried cracking jokes, but his voice trailed off before they could turn into anything real.
Lyren and Kael stood at the edge of it all, watchful. They exchanged fewer words these days. There was a mutual understanding in silence, a shared readiness for something ugly to finally tear loose.
Dominion supply caravans came and went, bringing crates marked with cryptic runes and dark vials sealed in iron cages. Officers swept through the ranks, ticking off lists, rarely offering more than clipped nods. Kael hated them — hated the way they looked through him, not at him, as though he was a tool waiting to be catalogued. He could feel the dreadborn inside stirring each time, whispering that he should tear them open, see what secrets spilled out.
That night, Kael couldn't sleep. He wandered through the tents, the lanterns casting long, shivering shadows. Somewhere deeper in the camp he caught voices — Toma again, speaking low to a Dominion adjutant. This time Kael moved closer, silent as he could manage. He caught words that curdled his blood. "...risk is acceptable. His compatibility is high. If this fails, we try the next."
Toma's answering voice was tight. "You promised me —"
The officer cut him off with a hiss. "We promised survival. That still stands, if you keep to the plan."
Kael's stomach roiled. He backed away before they could sense him, nearly colliding with Lyren who appeared ghost-like from between two tents. Lyren's eyes were hard. "I heard it too," he murmured.
They didn't say more. They didn't need to. Toma was in deeper with the Dominion than either of them had guessed.
Morning broke with a cruel kind of beauty, the sky streaked with blood-red and gold. Orders came down for a patrol into the blight-warped forests. No reason was given — none ever was. Kael gathered their battered squad, casting quick looks for Toma, but he was already at the front, head bowed, jaw set. Ayla flanked Kael closely, her presence a tether to keep him from unraveling.
The trees closed in around them quickly, trunks gnarled with rot, leaves sagging under fungal growths that pulsed faintly. Every step squelched in sodden earth. Birds didn't sing here. The only sound was the wind whining through hollow branches, almost like a voice.
Hours passed. The tension frayed thinner with each quiet shuffle. When a shriek finally cut through — high, warbling, wet — they spun as one, weapons raised. Seethe burst from the underbrush, malformed shapes that once might've been animals, now twisted by the blight into hunched, twitching things. They came fast, claws ripping soil, eyes glistening like polished tar.
Kael didn't think. The dreadborn inside surged forward, not breaking free but lending him just enough unnatural grace. He ducked a slash, drove his blade up under a gaping jaw, and felt hot fluid burst across his arm. Ayla danced around another, knives flashing. Lyren and Garrick fought back-to-back, cursing with every blow.
Nell screamed. Kael whipped around in time to see her dragged down, jaws clamping onto her shoulder. He lunged — too slow — steel biting into flesh, but it was already done. Nell's eyes met his, wide, startled. Her mouth worked around his name. Then blood bubbled out and she went still.
Something inside Kael cracked. He roared, the sound half-human, half-something else, and plowed through two more beasts, fury drowning the sick weight of guilt. When it was done, when the ground was littered with twitching corpses, he dropped to his knees beside Nell. Her body was already cooling.
No one spoke. Ayla set a trembling hand on Kael's shoulder. He shrugged it off, staggering to his feet. His vision swam. Every breath felt like pulling shards into his lungs. He didn't look at Toma — couldn't. The silence stretched, filled only by the drip of Seethe blood from their blades.
Kael finally turned away, voice raw. "We take her back. She deserves better than being left for these things."
They fashioned a litter from cloaks and spear shafts. As they carried her, the path seemed endless, the trees watching, whispering. Kael's grip on the litter was iron. He wouldn't let her fall. Wouldn't let her be swallowed like so many others.
But in his heart, something dark was already spreading — a cold certainty that this wasn't the last friend he'd carry home. That the blight wasn't just in the forest anymore. It was in them, in their doubts, in the Dominion's careful manipulations, in the way Toma wouldn't meet his eyes.
By the time they stumbled back into camp, Kael was almost numb. Almost. He set Nell's body down with aching care. Then he straightened, eyes finding Toma across the clearing. Toma shifted under the weight of that stare, shoulders curling inward.
Lyren moved beside Kael, face carved from stone. "This isn't over."
Kael didn't answer. He couldn't. Because deep down, the dreadborn inside was laughing. It knew what he refused to say aloud: that more graves were coming, and he might not be able to stop it.