The Shroud thickened the moment they crossed the bend—thicker than anything bright and the squad had walked through since getting to vester. Bright could barely see the faint silhouettes of his teammates through the haze, and even his spatial foresight wavered like a lantern flame inside a storm.

Not that he could admit that out loud.

He inhaled and noticed the air smelled wrong.

Too metallic and warm.

Too… alive.

And the moment he realized that, a tremor ran across the stone beneath them.

Rolf froze mid-step. "Tell me that's YOU shaking the ground."

Baggen shot him a dead look. "Why the fuck would I be shaking the ground—?"

Something chittered in the dark.

Multiple things.

Bright lifted a fist—a silent signal. Everyone halted.

Everyone except Adam, who bumped into Baggen's back and hissed, "Move your giant ass—"

Baggen elbowed him. Hard.

Adam grunted, clutching his ribs.

Bright scanned the walls, the ceiling, the floor. His foresight flowed outward, thin filaments of awareness stretching through the cave—

—and then collapsing.

The cave shuddered again.

Mara whispered, "private …?"

He didn't answer.

Because his foresight wasn't failing.

It was being overridden.

Something—some presence—was disrupting the Shroud's flow inside the cave, turning the threads chaotic and unpredictable. The warning flashes in his head weren't directions anymore.

They were just noise.

Like a hundred tiny bells ringing at once.

By this point, it was practically a recurring gimmick.

Every time he entered the Shroud, some invisible pressure muted his power, trimming his edges, weakening him just enough to keep the story consistent. As if the place insisted no one should ever rise above its script.

"Adam," Bright said tightly. "Your map. Show me."

Adam fished it out immediately, hands trembling slightly—not out of fear, but out of defensiveness.

He already knew the problem.

Bright snatched the map open.

A crude sketch of the cave network. Markings. Pathways. Safe zones.

A toddler scribbles compared to what he should have had.

Bright exhaled slowly. "Adam."

Adam swallowed. "Before you judge—I got it from reliable sources—"

"What sources?" Baggen snapped.

Adam cleared his throat. "My… informant."

"Your informant," Duncan repeated, strained.

"Your informant," Baggen growled, "now that I think of it is probably some baker's assistant who flirts with you over stale bread."

Adam raised a finger. "First, she gives me free bread. Second—"

"She's a FLEDGLING," Rolf cut in. "Like you. Like us."

Adam bristled. "She's not just—"

"She doesn't know shit," Rolf muttered. "And neither do you."

"That's rude—"

"Shut up," Bright said quietly.

The cave went silent.

Because most of them obeyed Bright when he used that tone.

He held Adam's gaze.

"Why," he asked softly, "didn't you think about rank? About access? About Source privilege? About the fact that only real people with power and trained pathfinders would have real fucking maps?"

Adam's jaw clenched.

"Because I thought—" He hesitated. "I thought we could handle it."

"You thought wrong," Bright said.

Adam flinched.

Bright sighed. "We're lost."

The words hung like cold iron.

Then Duncan cursed under his breath.

Baggen shut his eyes.

Mara wiped her blades nervously against her thigh.

Rolf just muttered, "I told you the fucking kids would get us killed."

Adam stood very still. "We're not completely lost."

Bright raised a brow. "Explain."

Adam pointed deeper into the tunnel. "The Shroud currents don't match the map. Which means—"

"Which means," Bright cut in, "this area isn't mapped at all."

A low rumble echoed through the walls.

Mara's fingers twitched over her hilts. "Guys?"

The ground vibrated again.

Then—

CRCHT-CRCHT-CRCHT-CRCHT-CRCHT

Soft. Fast. Multiplying.

Too many legs.

Too many claws.

Coming from the floor.

The walls.

And the ceiling.

Bright's head rang. "Formation!"

They snapped into place instantly—with Duncan stepping forward, Baggen bracing behind him, Mara sliding right, Adam and Rolf spreading left, Bright anchoring the front.

The Shroud pulsed—

—and from the ceiling dropped the first ant-crawler.

It hit the ground with a wet thud the size of a human torso—sharp mandibles, armored head, six powerful limbs, carapace ridged like carved bone.

A crawler hybrid.

And then another dropped.

And another.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Then the walls split open—literally cracked like thin eggshells—as dozens of smaller parasite-crawlers poured out, spilling into the hall in a churning, living flood. All of them waiting patiently for their "bosses" to finish preparing the meal.

Duncan whispered, "We're… in a colony…"

Baggen's grip tightened. "Why didn't your map say ANYTHING about a colony?"

Because," Adam whispered hoarsely, "no one even knew it existed. It was never spoken about in Vester. Give me some slack…"

Bright didn't bother responding.

Instead he lifted his blade.

They were bracing for a deadly fight that could've been avoided—because apparently common sense was a luxury here. You'd think in a world like this, they'd stop making mistakes that got people killed. And for Adam, whose whole "value" to the team was his brain? Yeah… disappointing.

…

The first wave hit Duncan.

He met them like a wall of iron—Bone Guard flaring sharp and thick, spear thrusts exploding outward.

CRACK!

STAB!

THRUST!

Three crawlers died instantly, bodies crushed or split open.

But an ant—twice the size of the others—rammed into him with a force that blasted him backward.

Baggen caught him barely in time.

"Shit—these things hit like siege rams!"

"Less talking," Duncan groaned, shoving himself upright.

Mara darted forward as two crawlers flanked Duncan's sides.

She carved through one's legs in a blur—her blades slicing cleanly through chitin. The crawler collapsed with a wet screech. The little girl was learning what survival demanded of her.

The other lunged.

Adam fired a precise shot slamming into its head.

It convulsed.

Then Rolf stepped in and kicked its skull into the wall.

Bright moved ahead, a blur of precision—cutting, parrying, sidestepping. His foresight was muddled, but not gone—just drunk and confused.

Still enough to see half a second ahead.

Still enough to kill.

Still enough to keep them alive.

For now.

…

The deeper rumble hit before anyone saw it coming.

Bright's foresight surged—then collapsed.

"MOVE!"

He shoved Baggen aside—

—and the tunnel ceiling gave way.

A roar of falling stone.

Dust exploding outward.

The world blurred.

Bright hit the ground, coughing—ears ringing.

Someone shouted.

Someone screamed.

He couldn't tell who.

He forced himself upright.

The path behind them was gone—completely sealed by rubble, stone piled from floor to ceiling.

They were trapped.

"Roll call!" Bright barked.

"Here!" Mara coughed.

"Alive," Duncan called, voice strained.

"Still ugly," Baggen barked.

"Present," Adam wheezed.

"…I hate this," Rolf muttered.

Relief washed through Bright—but only barely.

Because the crawlers hadn't stopped.

If anything—they were agitated.

The ground trembled beneath them.

Duncan stared at the floor. "Guys… they're digging up beneath us—"

The stone split.

Huge mandibles surged upward.

An ant erupted from below—sending Duncan flying into a wall, his defense shattering like glass.

Baggen roared and charged.

He swung his hammer upward—slamming it into the burrower's head with enough force to dent its carapace.

The creature shrieked—tail lashing.

Baggen caught the hit with a nicely timed earth wall—but the impact sent him stumbling.

Mara slashed its exposed underbelly, carving long lines of dark ichor.

Adam fired shot after shot, forcing the creature back.

Bright moved in for the finishing blow.

One clean stroke—

—but then the cave shivered unnaturally.

Something else stirred deeper inside the colony.

Adam's voice cracked. "Bright—something BIG is coming—"

"No shit!" Rolf yelled.

"No," Adam insisted, eyes widening. "Something bigger than these things."

The colony trembled.

And for the first time since entering the cave, Bright's foresight flashed clearly.

Two words flashed in his mind, sharp as knives: QUEEN. RUN

…

"Fall back!" Bright shouted. "Now!"

"But the path behind is blocked—" Mara began.

"I know!" Bright snapped. "Move anyway!"

They sprinted sideways—toward a branching path barely wide enough for two people at once.

The crawlers swarmed behind them.

Duncan limped heavily—Mara grabbed his arm, hauling him forward.

Rolf blasted the ceiling with a fireball , sending loose stone falling into the crawler horde—slowing them down barely.

Baggen covered the rear, earth wall raised, hammer smashing into anything that got too close.

Adam fired until his light-shot barrel glowed red.

Bright dragged them forward—because they would not die in a cave.

Not in a Shroud.

Not like this.

They burst into a wider chamber—breathing hard.

Duncan collapsed against a rock.

Baggen propped him upright.

Mara wiped blood off her cheek.

Rolf coughed dust.

Adam knelt, trembling.

Bright studied the group, realizing just how badly they needed a healer—and how much a healing core of his own would change everythin for him.

He finally spoke. "Status."

"Alive," Mara said.

"In pain," Duncan muttered.

"Pissed," Baggen growled.

"Hungry," Rolf offered.

"Utterly betrayed by my map," Adam whispered.

Bright glared at him.

Adam raised both hands. "Look—I admit it! I fucked up! But this wasn't on purpose—"

"We know," Bright said, surprising him.

Adam blinked. "You… do?"

"You're an idiot," Rolf said.

"A resourceful one," Duncan added.

Adam swallowed, throat tight.

"Thanks," he muttered. "I think."

Just for a moment, it was nice to remember they were just kids—even if the world was forcing them to grow up too fast.

Nevertheless, Bright turned toward the tunnel behind them.

The chittering grew louder.

Louder.

And louder.

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