Raga moved through the forest at the head of his unit, boots sinking softly into damp soil as the canopy swallowed what little moonlight remained. The trees here grew close and twisted, their branches clawing at one another like brawling beasts. Somewhere deeper within the dark, insects hummed, and something larger moved, unseen.

  Raga had been warned about that something. Warned to steer clear of it. He fully intended to obey…eventually. But the hunt wasn’t finished yet, and instinct urged him to press on just a little longer.

  Gabul had sent them days ago.

  It was meant to be a cleanup. A simple hunt. The other human groups they’d come across had folded quickly. These last ones, though…these ones had been different. The massacre at the cave told that story.

  Annoying, but not concerning.

  Their so-called champion had been humiliated under Gabul’s fist. Reduced to nothing. If the humans still lived, it was only because they clung to tricks.

  That was what Raga despised most about humans.

  They survived not because they were strong, but because they cheated.

  The Compact was broken now. And with it, the lie of human potential exposed. Low-level creatures pretending at war. Raga felt his fingers flex around the haft of his axe as impatience simmered through him. His blade wanted blood. That hunger was why he’d pushed his unit farther than the others, following instinct rather than orders.

  “You,” he snapped, glancing back. “Back in line.”

  One of the younger orcs jumped and bowed. “Sorry, Raga.”

  Raga turned away with a click of his tongue. Soft. All of them. When he’d been their age, he would have run until his lungs bled for even the whisper of a kill.

  They were exhausted, yes, but exhaustion was irrelevant. The prey had insulted Gabul, and blood would answer that insult. This hunt would earn favor.

  “Help! Please. Help me!”

  The cry sliced through the forest like a blade.

  Raga stopped. Slowly, he raised a fist.

  A slow and ugly grin crept across his face.

  He motioned the unit low, and they stalked the sound until the trees thinned into a small clearing. There, sprawled against the roots of a fallen tree, lay an older human woman. Her hands appeared to be gripping her ankle. Injured.

  They waited.

  No footsteps came. No shouts either.

  Raga straightened and chuckled. “Looks like lunch walked itself out.”

  They stepped forward together. The woman’s face drained of color when she saw them.

  Then—

  Fire erupted.

  A ring of flame roared up around the clearing, heat slamming into Raga’s chest. He barely had time to register it before there was a wet, final sound behind him.

  He turned.

  One of his squad staggered, eyes wide and empty, a blade buried where his spine met his skull. The body collapsed, revealing the thing behind him.

  A human male—huge, broad, built like a war idol dragged from mud and blood. Dirt streaked his face. Long blond hair hung wild and matted. A red, white, and blood-soaked bandana crowned a grin so feral it made Raga’s stomach drop.

  “Welcome,” the man growled softly, “to hell.”

  Chirp chirp

  A small black fluffy bird walked up around his shoulder and locked Raga’s eyes in a grizzly stare.

  Raga’s breath hitched.

  Another sound—Crack!

  To his right, his second squadmate fell, a neat, smoking hole punched through his skull.

  The fire parted.

  A woman stepped through the heat, black hair tangled, eyes sharp and merciless. Her coat flared around her shoulders. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.

  Then came the crash.

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  A spear fell from above like judgment, driving clean through the last orc in Raga’s unit. The body slammed into the dirt.

  Raga looked up.

  Against the blazing sun drifted another human. He was the same height as the first, black hair whipping around his face, eyes dark and unreadable. He descended on a floating plate of glowing energy, touching down lightly.

  “Welcome,” he said calmly, “to hell.”

  “Idiot!” the big one barked. “I already said that!”

  “We can both welcome him, moron,” the floating one snapped back.

  “Will you two shut up?” the woman shouted. “If I hear one more intro line, I’m roasting you both.”

  They were playing with him. It was a game to them.

  Fear burned away beneath Raga’s rage. These creatures needed to be reminded of their place.

  He roared and hurled his axe with everything he had.

  The weapon spun—

  —and stopped.

  Frozen in midair.

  Raga stared, disbelief cracking his fury apart.

  A fourth human stepped forward. Small. Red hair braided into two messy ropes. Calm. Too calm.

  Her eyes were the worst part.

  She walked toward him as though nothing in the world could touch her.

  Raga snarled and lifted his weapon. “You are dead—”

  The words died with his heartbeat.

  Everything inside him locked. His lungs refused to move. His blood stopped flowing. His heart seized mid-beat, pain exploding through his chest as panic tore at his thoughts.

  Darkness pressed in. He ached for a final breath that never came.

  —

  “That’s disgusting,” Rei said, wrinkling her nose as she watched Barrett tear a worm in half and chew it before offering it to Grimm.

  “Honestly,” Maku added dryly, “I think he’s old enough to handle solid food on his own now.”

  Barrett ignored them, lowering his voice as he held the morsel out. “You’ll always be my little baby, won’t ya, little guy?”

  Chirp-chirp.

  The sound drew a shared look between Maku, Granny, and Rei, somewhere between concern and resignation. Nearby, Pippy sat pressed against Granny’s side, knees drawn up, her gaze fixed on the fire as if it held answers no one else could see.

  Daylight still clung to the forest, but only barely. Shadows stretched longer with every passing minute. They would rest soon. Barrett had already claimed first watch.

  When the rabbit finished roasting, he passed the meat around, tearing off portions with practiced efficiency.

  “Not my finest work,” he said with a faint chuckle. “Bit low on seasoning these days.”

  Rei snorted. “We found your stash in your bag. Hopefully Lance still has it.”

  Barrett didn’t look up. “So, you and Fred enjoyed my seasoning, huh?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Can you get over it already? We’ve got bigger problems than your love life.”

  “Don’t mind her,” Granny said gently, slipping an arm around Barrett’s bicep and giving it an affectionate squeeze. “There’s a lovely young lady out there waiting for you.”

  Barrett flushed. “Ah—thanks, Granny. That’s…really sweet.”

  She laughed, patting his arm. “Mostly an excuse to grab those big muscles,” she added with a wink.

  Barrett chuckled awkwardly. Maku watched the exchange with open amusement.

  “And besides,” Granny continued, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “I’m sure the next one you meet will be a fine steak compared to this rodent.” She nodded subtly toward Rei.

  Rei cleared her throat loudly. “Anyway. We haven’t seen any orcs in days. What’s the plan?”

  The fire crackled as Barrett stared into it, flames reflecting in his lenses. The last stretch of days had blurred together—constant movement, aching feet, empty stomachs, too little sleep. Every face around him looked worn down, hollowed in small ways.

  He felt their eyes on him now. Waiting. Even Pippy had lifted her gaze.

  “We…” He inhaled slowly. “We keep moving. We find where the ships are going to land.”

  A collective breath escaped the group, sounding like relief.

  Except Pippy.

  She rose without a word and walked away from the firelight, her small shape swallowed quickly by the dark.

  Barrett watched her go, unease tightening his chest.

  Rei broke the silence. “Do we even know where we’re going?”

  Barrett glanced back at the fire, then at her, expression flat.

  “Maybe if we had my map.”

  The fire popped, sending sparks into the night as the silence settled in again, heavier than before.

  —

  Barrett found Pippy a short distance from camp, perched among a scatter of smooth river stones. The light was thinning now, the sun sinking low enough to bleed gold through the trees. In that fading glow, a fist-sized boulder hovered in front of her, trembling as if caught between falling and flying.

  She was completely focused with her brows drawn tight and lips pressed thin. The air around the rock shimmered faintly. Barrett had seen the change in her over the last few days. Her control was tighter, and her timing sharper. Still costly, though. Rei could hurl fire until her arms shook, but Pippy’s power burned her dry fast.

  At least she was doing the stamina drills he’d given her.

  He stayed quiet and watched. After several long seconds, her breathing began to hitch. The rock wobbled, then dropped with a dull thud against the stones. Pippy bent forward, hands on her knees, chest heaving.

  “Getting pretty good with that,” Barrett said gently.

  She didn’t answer. She scooped the rock up again, tossed it into the air, and caught it mid-rise, freezing it in place with a sharp inhale.

  Barrett sighed and stepped closer. “Hey. Can we talk?”

  The rock quivered but held.

  He sat down beside her, close enough to feel the heat of her effort. “Alright,” he said after a moment. “I’ll talk. You can pretend not to listen.”

  No reaction.

  “I won’t beat around the bush,” he continued. “You want revenge on Gabul.”

  Her eye twitched. Just once. It was enough.

  Barrett nodded to himself. “Yeah. Me too.”

  She glanced at him, just long enough to lose focus. The rock dropped again, striking the ground harder this time.

  “Then why are we leaving?” she demanded, springing to her feet. Her voice cracked, raw and sharp. “Why is everyone just…okay with this?!”

  She turned on him, fists clenched. “Are you adults really able to just let it go like that?”

  Barrett leaned back slightly, looking toward the horizon where the sun was dying in strips of red and purple.

  “I haven’t let anything go my entire life,” he said quietly.

  He looked back at her then, really looked. She’d grown since the day he met her. Harder edges, sharper eyes. But there was still something soft there. Something this world was trying its damnedest to grind away. He hated that he couldn’t stop it. That he shouldn’t stop it.

  “Then why start now?” she shouted, tears finally spilling free.

  Barrett’s hand curled into a fist. His jaw tightened. “Because we’re not ready.”

  Her gaze locked onto his, fierce and searching. He looked away, but too late. She’d already seen it. The doubt and fear. The weight he still carried.

  Before he could say anything else, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

  Barrett stiffened in surprise, then slowly returned the hug, one hand resting awkwardly between her shoulders.

  “You still miss him,” she said softly. It wasn’t a question.

  Barrett answered with a low grunt.

  “Then let’s get ready,” she said into his chest, her voice low but steady. “Let’s get stronger.”

  A rough chuckle escaped him. “You’re damn right we will.”