The wind screamed in his ears.

  Then nothing.

  The water swallowed him whole, like an icy fist slamming into his ribs.

  Kael hit the surface hard—a brutal impact across his back.

  He sank. But he didn’t panic.

  Swimming—he knew how to do that. Always had.

  In the Broken Crown, the Soléen was everywhere.

  Falling into water was routine. Getting back out was a matter of survival.

  He cut through the water with a sure motion, his arms slicing liquid shadows.

  The air was only a few meters above. He climbed toward it like an invisible staircase.

  A gulp of oxygen. He coughed. Took another breath.

  Then he spun around, eyes searching the surface.

  “Where the hell did you go…”

  His gaze caught a dark silhouette, sinking.

  Rigid. Motionless. The other one.

  “Seriously?” Kael muttered. “Not even a single kick?”

  He drew a deep breath and dove again.

  The water was freezing—but familiar.

  It wrapped around him, fluid, obedient.

  His arms carved through the reflections as he plunged deeper.

  He grabbed the soaked collar. The uniform dragged downward like dead weight.

  The other man didn’t move. Not a bubble. Not a twitch.

  You fucking walking contradiction…

  Kael kicked hard, jaw clenched, hauling them both upward.

  They finally broke the surface. He spat out water and gasped.

  Without slowing, he swam for the shore—mud, pebbles, slick algae.

  Didn’t matter.

  At last, his hands found ground. He dragged the other man onto the wet sand and collapsed beside him.

  The stranger’s body lay there, soaked through, mouth slightly open.

  “Come on… don’t do this,” Kael murmured. “You’re not dying now.”

  As if he’d heard him, the man suddenly doubled over, vomiting violently.

  “Charming,” Kael growled.

  He rolled onto his back, breathing like a punctured bellows.

  Daylight stabbed at his eyes. His muscles were knotted tight.

  But he was alive.

  And apparently, so was the other one.

  He pushed himself halfway up and surveyed their surroundings.

  They were at the bottom of the canyon.

  The lake stretched for miles along the cliffs.

  Behind them: a thick forest—dense, almost too green to be honest.

  A new setting. Another trap?

  Kael turned his head toward the stranger, who was still gasping.

  “We’re down,” he said. “Canyon behind us, lake in front. And a forest as a bonus.

  Looks like we changed environments.”

  The stranger spat one last time, then lifted his eyes.

  “Got anything else to say that I don’t already know?”

  Kael snorted.

  “Just that you’re a nightmare to save.”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  He glanced at the still-drenched body beside him.

  “You’re heavy, you know that? Like a sack of scrap metal.

  A mute sack of scrap metal.”

  No answer.

  Just another miserable burst of half-digested water spilling from the stranger’s mouth.

  Kael turned away with a grimace.

  “Fantastic.”

  He pulled his knees under himself, sitting cross-legged on the damp sand.

  His clothes were still dripping, his back still ached—but at least they were breathing.

  The other man was still lying there, arms outstretched.

  He stared up at the sky, expressionless.

  Then, without warning, he sat up in one sharp motion.

  He brushed himself off mechanically.

  His clothes were soaked, and the gesture made no sense.

  But he did it anyway. Almost out of habit.

  “We need to look for help,” he said in a neutral tone.

  “Or at least locate other Trame Bearers.”

  Kael raised an eyebrow.

  “Yeah… good idea,” he admitted.

  “Before this place throws another monster in our faces.”

  He stood up as well, legs still numb.

  The other man scanned the horizon, then pointed toward the shoreline.

  “We’ll start by following the lake.

  If any Trame Bearers fled the attack, they likely sought out a water source.”

  He paused, then added calmly:

  “It’s a constant in wild zones. Water attracts life. Even human life.”

  Kael nodded in silence.

  It made sense.

  The current—calm as it was—formed a natural line. A path.

  And in a mess like this, anything that resembled a readable axis became a landmark.

  He shook himself lightly, rubbing his arms to get the blood flowing.

  “Alright. We follow the line, then.”

  The other man nodded.

  Then started walking, without another word.

  Kael cast one last glance toward the canyon—the place they had fallen from—

  then fell into step beside him.

  They walked for hours along the shoreline, saying little.

  The waterlogged ground slowed their progress.

  The sun, when it pierced the canyon walls, was nothing more than a pale thread of light.

  No signs of life.

  Not even a bird.

  Just the gentle lap of water against pebbles, and their heavy footsteps in the mud.

  Eventually, Kael broke the silence.

  “Maybe we should’ve checked the forest instead. Don’t you think?”

  The stranger barely slowed.

  “Maybe,” he replied.

  He stopped to study the dark treetops rising behind the canyon.

  “It’s logical. A wooded area can conceal an Overdrawn.

  But it can also shelter survivors.”

  He turned his head toward Kael, expression unreadable.

  “But either way, it’s too late. We’re not turning back.

  We set up camp here.”

  Kael stopped dead.

  “Great. And how exactly do we ‘camp’ in a place that can literally melt our faces while we sleep?”

  The other man sighed, clearly running out of patience.

  “We follow field protocols,” he muttered.

  He bent down and picked up a flat stone. Lifted it. Examined it from several angles.

  “First, we check that the area is stable. No acoustic distortion.

  If the light shifts tone without reason, we leave.”

  He tossed the stone. It landed without any abnormal sound.

  “Then we establish a perimeter.

  To keep Overdrawn from locating us, surrounding us… or mimicking us while we sleep.”

  Kael raised an eyebrow.

  “Wait—are you telling me those things can imitate a campsite?”

  “Not the camp. You.

  Your movements. Your breathing. Your sleep.”

  Kael narrowed his eyes.

  “Honestly, after the things we saw in that canyon… I’d be surprised if they could even walk straight. So imitating me?”

  The other man turned his head toward him, perfectly calm.

  “Exactly.

  If those were truly Class-Three, then there may be more.”

  He glanced toward the forest.

  “Especially there. Where blind spots are more numerous.”

  Silence settled between them—the kind that weighed more than words.

  Kael rubbed his arms, uneasy, and looked away toward the treetops.

  “Great. So either we sleep and get copied, or we keep moving and get lost.”

  The other man pointed to a spot—a small sandbank along the shore, free of pebbles, offering slightly better comfort.

  “There. We set camp here.

  Dry ground. Low reverberation. Clear visibility on both sides.”

  Kael didn’t answer immediately. Then he nodded.

  “Alright. Let’s set up camp.”

  The stranger handled the setup alone.

  Kael sat on a rock nearby, arms crossed, eyes fixed on every movement.

  “You do this often? Camping in places where the ground might decide to eat you?”

  “Less often than I’d like,” the other replied without looking at him.

  He laid down a compressed layer of branches, wedged between a stone outcrop and a low stump.

  He tested every step. Every bit of footing.

  “And what if a snake drops on us? Or an Overdrawn hiding in a hollow trunk?

  Or if the ground itself is actually some kind of living thing?”

  “Be quiet for two minutes.”

  Kael shut up.

  Then, two minutes later—

  “Did you check if those leaves sting or something?”

  No answer.

  Kael straightened a little.

  “How do you sleep? Like, actually sleep.

  Not just close your eyes and think, ‘maybe I won’t get eaten tonight.’”

  The stranger stood up, brushed his hands off, and finally looked at him.

  “I go hunt.”

  “Hunt what? Things you can eat, or things that’ll try to hunt you back?”

  “I’ll see.

  Stay here. Don’t touch anything.

  And if something calls you—don’t answer.”

  “Great,” Kael muttered.

  “You really inspire confidence.”

  The stranger vanished into the forest shadows.