The watchtower loomed behind him—silent, half-sunken, ancient. Its walls were cracked and vine-wrapped, remnants of an old world that once believed it could hold the line. The antenna dish sagged like a wounded limb. Half the stairs were rusted through. A sniper's perch long abandoned by snipers. A last outpost, not even worth saving. Asher stood in its shadow, blade on his back, sweat drying to salt. The wind had gone still. It was too quiet.
He kept thinking about the day before. The canteen. That smell—like rust and old metal. It wasn't right. It had been tampered with. He was sure of it now. That's why he'd felt so off. Why everything had started spinning. Why he'd dozed off without meaning to. And Thorne—he'd passed out too. That part stuck with him. Thorne didn't slip like that. Not near the exit. Not when they were that close to extraction. He was too disciplined. Too stubborn. Something had hit both of them. Asher remembered the haze. The way his limbs felt distant. Like his body had sunk half an inch into the floor. He'd blamed the sun at first. Maybe dehydration. Heatstroke. But on second thought… No. It didn't feel like nature. Something in that canteen hadn't belonged. A bird had led him here. Not metaphorically. Literally. A black raven, silent, waiting on the tower dish like a sentinel. It had watched him. Then flown. Just ahead, barely in sight. Guiding him. And when he'd followed it had stopped. Right in front of the Nyxroot. The sprout curled like a curse from under shattered stone. Thorns like frozen tears, glinting faint silver. It wasn't just some natural weed—Nyxroot came from the Void. Except unlike the beasts, this one had grown in the form of a plant. A dangerous, malicious thing. It had a will of its own. Not thinking, not sentient—but aware. As if it wanted to be touched. As if pain was the only language it knew how to speak. He'd crept up slow. Knife drawn. One wrong move and the plant would sting. Not kill. No. The venom in Nyxroot was sadistic. Temporary nerve pain. It turned nerves inside out. Made you scream without bleeding. That's why Vireon Academy used it—to mimic real wounds. Let initiates feel the pain of combat without the risk of dying from it. Asher cut low, collected a shard. It wept venom. Then stood. Steadier now. Clearer.
When he returned to the watchtower, the others were still busy. Beth and Ryvak fortifying the shelter. Ryvak held a rusted metal beam against the crumbling wall, arms straining under the weight, while Beth crouched beside him with an old nail gun, driving bolts through what was left of the support frame. They didn't see him slip inside. Didn't see him twist open the cap of an unattended canteen. Didn't see the drops fall. He replaced it. Quietly. And sat by the wall. Soon after Beth and Ryvak finished, the group headed over to the communication office. The array crackled. Ryvak fought with the antenna, "I swear, this time the transmitter will work and I won't smash it," he said with a sheepish grin. "Now we just need to hook it up to the dish," he added, adjusting the beam. Beth fine-tuned the frequency. Asher didn't move. Just watched. Finally, the static cleared. "Foxtrot, Foxtrot, this is Bravo 4. Do you copy?" said Ryvak into the speaker. A few seconds passed, then a reply crackled through: "Bravo 4, confirmed. Convoy en route. ETA four hours." The group visibly relaxed. They shut the equipment down, left the comms array behind, and returned inside. The tower's main chamber wasn't much—bare floor, dented walls—but it offered shade, and a break. For the first time in days, there were no monsters. No screams. Just stillness.
Beth sat. She drank. Her hand trembled as the liquid touched her throat. A split second later—pain. Real and sharp. She coughed once, grimaced, and set the canteen down like it had turned on her. Asher's eyes didn't leave it. "I know it was you," he said. Beth blinked. Not fast. Just one slow movement. Ryvak turned. "What?" "You set him up," Asher said. "You placed the broken antenna beside me. The first one. Then when your partner left behind the second transmitter, you couldn't risk us finding it. But Ryvak did. So you used him." Beth didn't answer. Instead she coughed again, deeper, and grimaced in pain. "You manipulated him into destroying it. Made him think it was his idea. That's what Void suggestion is, right?" Ryvak looked pale. "Wait—she… what?" "You were the last one fiddling with the transmitter that day," Asher said. "Thorne noticed. He watched you too. That's why you had to move." Beth sighed. "And here I thought you'd never get there." "So it was you." Beth didn't deny it. "I don't understand," Ryvak muttered. Beth smiled. It didn't reach her eyes. "Smart spiking my canteen. Is it Nyxroot? That must be it." Asher stepped forward. "Why Thorne?" Beth tossed the canteen off to the corner of the room, her face a mask of pain. "He was my assignment. The real Beth died before the campaign really began. Killed by a Riftbeast. I took her identity. Easy, during the chaos. Everyone was distracted. No one noticed." "You needed him alive," Asher said. "For protection. To get here." "And for his shard," she added. "I shouldn't have given it up after the Queen. I got swept up in the moment. If I'd stuck to the mission, it would've been done. But in my defense I needed him alive. I needed protection." She winced again, pain biting through her sentence. "My partner was tracking us," she continued. "Quiet, distant. We had a plan. But Thorne… he noticed. How was I supposed to know he'd be that sharp? He spotted my partner. He started suspecting that I wasn't who I said I was. That changed everything." Asher's stare didn't shift. "So I improvised," Beth said. "Killed him that night. Easy. Thorne left his canteen unattended. Just a few drops—some drowsy compound, untraceable once it's hot. Lucky for me, he shared it with you." She laughed once, bitter. "You were harder to manipulate. Stubborn. Guarded. But Ryvak? Ryvak was easy. He didn't even know it was happening. A whisper here. A push there. That's all it took." She leaned against the wall, her hand trembling. "I needed all of you. I couldn't make it through that desert alone. Too many things that crawl and hunt." Ryvak stared like he didn't recognize her. "All that time…" "I followed orders," Beth said with a bitter smile. "Just like I was trained to." "And the chanting?" Asher asked. "Back in the ridge?" Beth leaned back, exposing the faint glow beneath her collar. "Evolution hurts. The second mutation hurts. The chanting helped keep me conscious. You think that kind of power comes free?" "You never told us you had shard powers." Beth tilted her head. "Would you have trusted me if I had?"
Asher pulled his blade. Beth moved first. She struck without hesitation—drove her foot into Ryvak's chest and sent him crashing into the wall. He collapsed, groaning, stunned. Then she turned on Asher. Steel flashed. Asher blocked. Their weapons clashed. She was faster, more fluid. Her strikes came with terrifying precision. "I didn't want to kill you," Beth said between blows. "You do not need to die. Not anymore." "What was the plan?" Asher spat. "Slaughter us in our sleep?" "Yes." She didn't flinch. "That was the plan. All of you. No witnesses. But then you—" She slashed. He dodged. "—you resisted me. Even when I used the Voice. Even when I whispered commands. You resisted." Their blades rang through the hollow room. He landed a cut to her arm. She sliced his shoulder. Blood dripped across the stone. "You changed my mind," Beth admitted. "That's rare. That means something." She reached again for his mind—her shard pulsing—her words dripping influence. "Drop your weapon." Asher staggered. The command echoed in his skull. His muscles locked. But only for a breath. He gritted his teeth. Pushed through it. Moved. His blade swept low and nicked her ribs. Beth screamed. The Nyxroot finally sank in. She staggered back, agony twisting her features. "You poisoned me…" "I had to." They stood, both barely upright. Beth wiped blood from her lip. "Ryvak… he's a fool. But he's loyal to you. I'll spare him. For your sake. You'll owe me." "I owe you nothing." She looked tired now. Older. Her pain had taken root. "I let you live," she whispered. "Because you have so much potential. Because someday, when you reach the Academy—you'll see why I chose this side." She turned and limped toward the stairs. "Don't follow me," she said. "You'll just die." Then she was gone. Asher collapsed next to Ryvak. The boy was still breathing. He picked up the discarded canteen and hurled it out the window. In the direction of Beth's departure. Night swallowed the desert. Few more hours until the convoy arrived.