Legion raised his hand to strike Saeda.

  “You pestilence,” roared his countless voices.

  In the next instant, her body slammed against a nearby tree, the impact like being struck by a bulldozer. Legion stood with his hand still raised—yet he had never touched Saeda.

  It was the one with short black hair. Lilith. She moved too fast for the eye to follow. One blow was all it took to silence Saeda, her eyes glowing blue before flickering shut.

  “End this meaningless slaughter.”

  The voice thundered through the forest, echoing from every tree, enough to make Legion flinch.

  Another figure stepped forward—the one with silver hair. He raised his hand, and glowing purple symbols spun into circles around it. An unseen force dragged Kie and Zod from the trees, crushing them in its grip.

  Lilith’s voice followed, calm yet merciless:

  “All must perish to end the pain and torment that will inevitably come.”

  She lifted her hand toward Kie and Zod. Dark clouds churned above their heads, shaping into enormous blades. At the flick of her fingers, as if squeezing an invisible sphere, the blades plunged downward from every angle. Their bodies fell riddled with steel, bristling like grotesque porcupines pierced by countless spines.

  Legion only laughed. His gaze slid to his companion, Sade, who revealed he held the fragment.

  Sade’s eyes lingered on the white-haired corpse. So… that’s where she was. He had thought her lost forever. Only fate would decide if they would meet again.

  The bandaged one, reduced to tatters, unraveled into black smoke and streamed into Legion’s hood.

  A red vortex tore open above the forest floor, swirling violently. One by one, the three vanished into its depths, leaving corpses strewn in silence.

  Moments later, a green vortex appeared. From it stepped Vergants in light armor and colored cloaks. After ensuring the area was secure, four grand elders emerged. Their eyes fell upon the fallen, and sorrow compelled them to lower their hoods.

  Tee opened her eyes, a dull soreness radiating through her abdomen. Rolling onto her back, she stared up at a distant ceiling. That wasn’t her room. She pushed herself up slightly, confusion stirring as fragments of memory flickered—glowing green eyes, a sinister smile wrapped in bandages.

  Her heart raced, but then her senses caught up. She was in the infirmary, a vast hall lined with rows of pristine white-covered beds. Around her, her comrades lay resting.

  Her gaze drifted, settling on Saeda’s feet poking out from a bed across the aisle, the soles angled almost toward her. To the left, Miko rested motionless in another bed.

  A cool breeze drifted through the room, carrying with it the soft percussion of rain tapping against the windowsill. Tee turned her head toward it, blinking against the sudden brightness. Along the far wall stretched a row of tall rectangular windows, each pane jeweled with raindrops. A few stood ajar, letting in the invigorating gusts of wind.

  The calm shattered when Zod’s eyes snapped open. He lurched upright with a piercing scream that sent a chill through Tee’s chest. She flinched, watching him with wide eyes as the rest of the room stirred, drawn to his outburst.

  His terror ebbed slowly, ragged breaths giving way to steadier rhythm as his chest rose and fell.

  “Are you alright?” Saeda asked, her voice flat as she pushed aside her sheet and sat upright.

  Zod’s gaze swept the room, meeting each of theirs before dropping back to the ceiling. “Yeah,” he muttered, the word heavy, lingering.

  Relief softened most of their faces—except Kie’s. His expression twisted with irritation. To him, Zod’s drama outweighed any true danger. Swinging his legs off the bed, he sat at the edge, as though already considering walking out.

  Tee couldn’t help but wonder what had brought them all to the infirmary.

  “I had the strangest dream,” Zod said at last, his voice carrying a mix of confusion and intrigue that drew everyone’s attention.

  Miko stretched, her long hair spilling over her shoulders as she raised her arms high. A soft yawn slipped out before she let them fall again, her posture sagging under exhaustion. The same weariness etched her features, just as it did the rest of them.

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  “A dream?” Saeda murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I doubt it was worse than mine. That felt more like a nightmare.”

  Zod gave a short, humorless chuckle before his expression darkened. “You were in it,” he said, turning to Saeda. “I saw you die.”

  The words cut through the room, instantly pulling everyone’s focus.

  Kie, who had been ready to leave, slowly sat back on his bed.

  “Did I hear you right?” Tee asked, impatience sharpening her tone. “You said you saw Saeda die?” Her gaze flicked between Miko, Kie, and Saeda—each frozen, brows knit in thought. They wore the look of people grappling with something too heavy to name.

  To Tee, they seemed like fugitives caught in stillness, waiting for Priman hoverjets to thunder over their roof tops.

  Miko’s eyes widened. She turned toward Zod, breaking from her hollow stare. “This dream, Zod… were there others?”

  The room fell silent, broken only by the sound of a swallow—loud, almost deliberate. Miko’s next words were so faint they were nearly mouthed rather than spoken: “One wearing a hood?”

  Zod held her gaze, unblinking, before answering. “Yeah.”

  Kie leaned forward, his posture hardening with sudden resolve, while Saeda wrapped her arms tightly around herself. The air grew heavy, tension wrapping around them like an invisible shroud.

  Then Tee’s vision faltered. For an instant, she was somewhere else—staring at white gravel streaked with splashes of dark red. The image burned vivid before her eyes. She blinked hard, trying to place its familiarity, but the connection slipped away, leaving only questions.

  An ear-piercing scream reverberated through Tee’s skull. She clenched her eyes shut and gripped the sheets on either side, bracing herself for the rush of memories about to surge.

  In her mind’s eye, she saw her own feet pounding forward, carrying her swiftly over gravel that shifted into soft grass. Above, a canopy of towering trees stretched endlessly, branches scraping her face as she pushed through without slowing. Urgency propelled her steps—yet she couldn’t tell toward what, or away from what.

  The scream faded, and Tee cautiously opened her eyes. The infirmary returned around her, but the memory clung like mist, heavy and half-formed. It felt dreamlike—familiar, as though she should know what came next—yet the truth slipped away.

  All she knew was that she had been running toward the forest. Why, or from what, she couldn’t say. Darkness edged her vision, followed by a sharp pain stabbing at the front of her mind.

  Then another scene unfolded: beams of light piercing cracks in the dark above her. The glow widened, a tunnel stretching ahead, its distant end drawing closer with every breath. But before she could reach it, white fractures splintered across the ceiling of shadow, splitting wide to let brilliant light pour in.

  The vision twisted. Rocks tumbled down in a thunderous cascade, filling the air with choking dust.

  When the anguish eased, Tee’s eyes fluttered open again. She sat on the bed, her feet dangling just above the floor, the vision fading like smoke.

  “I remember rocks falling,” Saeda’s voice cut through the silence.

  The words struck Tee like an echo of her own. The image of collapsing stone resurfaced, aligning perfectly with her vision. A connection formed, sharp and inexplicable, threading between them.

  “One with a hood,” Miko repeated, her voice tinged with obsession. She lowered her gaze to the sheet, speaking to it as though confiding in something unseen. “That thing that crawled out of its back.”

  Tee struggled to grasp the meaning. The words sounded like fragments torn from a ghost story, straining the edges of her understanding.

  “Ate your sword,” Kie added, his voice heavy with foreboding.

  Miko’s eyes shot to his, widening. His expression confirmed it—he knew exactly what she meant.

  “There was a forest,” Kie continued, his tone unwavering. “We had to make it to the forest.”

  Tee’s mind raced, piecing together her earlier visions. The truth struck her. Those weren’t dreams. They were memories.

  The weight of it showed on Zod’s face as he gave a slow, grave nod.

  Again, Miko whispered to the sheet, her voice barely audible. “The bandaged one.”

  Silence swallowed the room. Each of them felt it—the chilling possibility that their shared fragments were bound to the very event that had delivered them here, broken, into the infirmary.

  Memories of the Harbingers—first spoken of during their meeting with the elders—resurfaced. From the fragments they all recalled, it was unclear whether they had dreamed of the Harbingers or truly faced them.

  Tee’s mind whirled at Miko’s mention of the “bandaged one.” Did it mean the wraps they sometimes used in training? The elders had never revealed an image or even details of anyone bandaged. Then it struck her—her vision of the eerie smile wrapped in strips of cloth. That must have been it.

  “Could it be that we faced the Harbingers?” Tee asked.

  Silence followed. When she looked around, her comrades’ gazes were locked on her, brows furrowed, the weight of their concern pressing down on her. A shiver ran through her veins.

  “I think you might be right,” Zod said, drawing in a sharp breath.

  Saeda winced, clutching her head. “Why is it so hard to remember? Flashes keep running through my mind, but nothing stays.”

  “It must’ve happened,” Kie said flatly. “We’re all remembering the same things.”

  Zod swung his legs over the bed, his posture stiffening with resolve. “Or maybe it was just a dream. We need to piece our dreams together—from start to finish. Maybe it’s all coincidence.”

  “That’s it!” Miko exclaimed, sudden cheer lighting her face. “Maybe we all watched a scary movie together last night. That would explain why we’re remembering the same things.”

  Her words broke the tension, coaxing a few smiles. The room eased, hope flickering like a small flame, driving back the weight of dread.

  But Saeda’s relief quickly faltered. “Wait—if it was just a movie, then why are we here in the infirmary?”

  “Remember,” Tee said, her tone thoughtful, “the Commander warned us there would be more practical tests. Maybe this was one of them.”

  Kie frowned. “Are you saying we failed the test?”