"Move," Kara said quietly. "We don't rest here."
They didn't get far.
The canyon floor ahead dipped into a shallow basin, wide enough to feel open after the narrow passes they'd crossed. Heat pooled low, thick and unmoving, the air heavy with the hiss of distant vents.
Xander slowed. "I don't like this."
"Because it's open?" Luna asked.
"Because it's quiet," he replied.
The answer came a heartbeat later.
The stone beneath the basin rippled.
Not cracked. Not collapsed. It flexed, as if pressure were being redistributed beneath the surface. A low vibration hummed through the ground, deep enough to feel in the chest.
Elara tensed immediately—and then grimaced.
"I can't get a clean read," she said. "The airflow's wrong."
Kara swore under her breath. "Contacts incoming."
The basin erupted.
Three shapes tore free from the stone almost simultaneously—leaner than the crawler from before, longer-limbed, their bodies segmented into overlapping mineral plates streaked with glowing seams. They didn't roar.
They moved.
Fast.
"Spread!" Kara barked.
Drake stepped forward instinctively—and felt it.
The lag hit harder this time.
The earth responded late, his footing shifting just enough that he had to correct mid-step. One of the creatures lunged, claws scraping sparks as Drake barely raised a stone slab in time to deflect the blow.
Too slow.
The impact jarred his arm, sending a shock through his shoulder.
Xander fired first, lightning snapping outward in a tight arc that slammed into the second creature's flank. It staggered—but didn't fall.
"Why won't you DIE?" Xander snapped.
"They're anchored!" Luna shouted. "Don't waste output!"
Kara was already moving.
She didn't draw deep flames—not yet. Instead, she slid laterally, bow snapping up as she loosed two arrows in quick succession. Not aimed at bodies—aimed at joints, timing the shots between the creatures' movements.
One stumbled.
"Good," Kara said. "They react to disruption, not damage."
Elara tried to assist—wind surged, uneven, her control slipping as fatigue caught up. The gust clipped one creature off-balance, but the effort made her stumble.
Luna caught her. "Don't," she said sharply. "You're tapped."
Elara clenched her jaw. "Then we're short."
Drake heard it.
Short.
He forced himself to stop pushing.
Instead of trying to raise more stone, he dropped his stance—lower, wider—using what was already there. When the nearest creature lunged again, he didn't counter.
He redirected.
He twisted, guiding its momentum into the uneven ground, slamming its weight sideways. The creature crashed into the basin wall hard enough to fracture stone.
It screeched.
"That works!" Xander shouted.
"Do it again," Kara said. "But cleaner."
Drake adjusted. Smaller movements. Less force. No rush.
The second creature leapt—Drake stepped into it this time, letting its claws rake across his forearm as he pivoted, driving an elbow into the seam between its plates. The strike wasn't powerful.
It was precise.
The creature recoiled, plates grinding as it retreated.
Kara took the opening.
Fire ignited—not in a blast, but in a tight spiral around her legs as she moved. Her steps were measured, flames trailing with controlled rhythm as she slid past the third creature, heat forcing it to veer without ever touching it.
Phoenix Step.
Not faster.
Cleaner.
She struck once—arrow buried into a destabilized seam Drake had just exposed.
The creature collapsed, stone grinding as it stilled.
The remaining two withdrew, skittering back into the fractured basin, melting into the stone as quickly as they'd emerged.
Silence fell hard.
Everyone stood where they were, breathing heavy.
"That," Xander said between breaths, "was not efficient."
Kara nodded. "But it worked."
Luna moved immediately, checking Drake's arm. "You're bleeding."
He glanced down. "Minor."
She didn't argue—just sealed it quickly. "You adjusted," she said quietly.
Drake shook his head. "I stopped forcing it."
Kara looked at him then—not approving, not praising. Assessing.
"Remember that," she said. "Because this place will punish you every time you forget."
Elara leaned against the wall, breathing shallow but steady. "Next time… I won't be able to help at all."
Kara answered without hesitation. "Then we adapt again."
Drake flexed his fingers, feeling the ache, the lag still there—but something else too.
A kind of unease that had nothing to do with pain.
They moved again shortly after.
Elara stayed near the center this time.
Not because anyone said anything.
Not because she couldn't scout.
Because Kara didn't ask her to.
The formation adjusted without comment. Xander took point alongside Kara, lightning held low and tight, ready to react rather than probe. Drake found himself drifting closer to the front than usual, half a step ahead of where he normally walked.
He noticed.
No one corrected it.
That bothered him more than if they had.
The canyon narrowed again, the walls pressing closer, angles sharper. Without Elara ranging ahead, the turns came later—corners revealed themselves only once they were already committed to them.
"Left," Kara said once, too late for comfort.
They adjusted, boots scraping stone.
Xander shot a glance back. "We're guessing more than I like."
"We're compensating," Kara replied. "There's a difference."
Drake didn't miss the word.
Compensating.
They pressed on.
At the next bend, the floor dipped suddenly—not a collapse, not a trap. Just a shallow drop masked by shadow. Xander caught it at the last second, skidding forward with a sharp curse.
Drake reacted instantly, arm snapping out to grab him.
Too fast.
The timing was off.
His grip closed a fraction early, fingers scraping cloth instead of locking hold. Xander still stumbled, caught himself hard against the wall, breath knocked from his lungs.
Silence snapped tight.
"I'm good," Xander said quickly, straightening. "Just surprised."
Kara studied the ground, then Drake. Not accusing. Measuring.
Elara crouched near the edge of the dip, frowning. "If I'd been out front—"
"You weren't," Kara said gently.
That was worse.
They moved again, slower now. More cautious. But caution without information had a cost of its own.
Kara knelt, unfolding the map out of habit more than faith. She didn't look at it for long before folding it back up.
"We're burning margin," she said quietly. "Not supplies. Margin."
Drake felt that land.
Xander rolled his neck. "So what's the call?"
Kara didn't answer immediately. She looked at Elara.
"We keep moving," Kara said at last. "But no one fills a role that isn't theirs."
Later, when they made camp again, Elara sat a little apart, eyes closed, listening—not to the canyon ahead, but to the space around them. Drake watched her from across the firelight.
And the space she usually owned felt hollow without her in it.
Luna came to sit beside Drake, knees drawn in, hands resting loosely in her lap.
"You keep stepping forward," she said softly.
"I'm just adjusting," Drake replied.
She didn't look at him. "That's what worries me."
He frowned. "Because I'm doing too much?"
"Because you're doing it early," Luna said. "Before the rest of us have finished feeling the absence."
He leaned back, staring up at the strip of dark sky barely visible between stone walls.