Two days before the present—
—the same day Angelo would open his eyes.
Ironwatch Hold.
A fortified military base buried deep within the jagged Ravenrock Mountains.
Inside its cold, metallic walls, in a dimly lit medical ward, Dr. Elias Grant slowly regained consciousness.
Light bled through his vision in fragments, harsh and unfocused. The steady beep… beep… of a heart monitor cut through the fog, dragging him toward awareness.
As he shifted his head to look for the source, pain detonated through his body—white-hot, immediate—like fire racing along frayed nerves.
He gasped.
A nearby nurse noticed at once.
"Please try not to move," she said sharply, already turning. "Get the lead medic."
Grant obeyed, teeth clenched, breath shallow.
Moments later, a calm, professional woman entered the room. Her movements were precise, practiced.
"I'm Lieutenant Asha Relin," she said, voice clinical but not unkind. "Medical officer. Can you hear me? Are you in pain?"
Grant groaned softly. His throat burned as he forced the words out.
"What… happened to the others?"
Relin's expression faltered—just for a heartbeat.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "You were the only one we found alive out there."
Grant's eyes widened. Color drained from his face. He stared at the equipment surrounding him, at the sterile walls, his voice dry with dread.
"How long… has it been?"
"About two days since we recovered you," she replied. "You were unconscious the entire time. You should rest. When you've regained more strength, I'll tell you what we found."
Grant tried to shift again.
Pain tore through his side and leg.
He sucked in a sharp breath and lifted his head, eyes moving downward.
His left leg.
Gone.
Everything below the knee—missing.
Relin's voice softened. "It was mangled beyond repair. We had no choice. Amputation was the only way to save your life."
Grant stared for a long moment… then slowly let his head sink back into the pillow.
"Could've been worse," he muttered.
A pause.
"How long before I can move again?"
"At least a month before you can move without assistance," Relin said. "Full mobility will take much longer."
"I don't have a month," Grant says, gritting his teeth. "I need to find Angelo."
Relin stiffened at the name.
"You mean that thing? That… monster?"
Grant's eyes flew open.
"Watch your tongue, Lieutenant," he said sharply. "Don't call him that. He's a good kid. He used himself as bait—risked everything just to buy us time. To save the rest of us." His voice shook with restrained fury. "Those things took him."
Relin flinched.
"Sorry, Doctor. Won't happen again."
Grant closed his eyes, breath trembling.
"Did you find his family?" he asked quietly. "You said I was the only survivor… does that mean they're—"
He stopped himself.
It was a question he didn't want answered.
"I promised him we'd protect them."
Relin nodded slowly.
"We didn't find anyone matching their description. They were assigned guards, correct?"
Grant nodded once.
"If we know who was guarding them," Relin continued, "we can work backward. Find where they fell—and who else was in that area. Names?"
Grant thought for a moment.
"Captain Ira Dorne. Lucan Bell. Kara 'Shiv' Velt. Darian Holt. They were with the Walkers."
Relin immediately signaled to a nearby soldier.
"Cross-check those names. Pull body recovery records. Locate where they were found. Then search for any nearby civilian remains matching the family."
"Yes, ma'am," the soldier replied, saluting before rushing off.
Relin turned back to Grant.
"We'll find them," she said. "One way or another."
Grant closed his eyes.
"Thank you…"
The soldier made his way quickly to Major Rix Harrow, handing over the intel Lieutenant Relin had ordered delivered.
Harrow was a battle-hardened man in his forties, an eyepatch covering his right eye—lost during a mission that had been sabotaged from within. He skimmed the report once, then again, slower this time. His jaw tightened.
"Find the bodies of these four soldiers," he ordered, lowering the datapad. "I want answers."
The team moved to the morgue and requested access to the remains of the guards assigned to the Walker family: Captain Ira Dorne, Lucan Bell, Kara 'Shiv' Velt, and Darian Holt.
What awaited them wasn't easy to look at.
The bodies were mangled beyond recognition. One had been torn apart. Two had their skulls crushed. Another bore a gaping cavity in the chest. One corpse—what remained of it—showed a massive bite wound, as if something had taken a brutal chunk out of the torso.
But there were no animals in the region capable of that.
Nothing native, anyway.
Harrow summoned the soldiers who had originally recovered the bodies. Three stepped forward.
"Where are the civilians that were with them?" Harrow asked flatly. "The family. The child."
One soldier swallowed and answered, "Sir—there were no other bodies near them."
Harrow's eye narrowed. "Explain."
"These four were found far from the main engagement zone," the soldier said. "It looked like they were running—maybe trying to draw something away. We found their remains, but no civilians nearby."
Another soldier stepped in. "They were using an armored truck. The guards fell right beside it. Inside, there was a symbol—drawn into the rear panel with blood. We also recovered a child's shoe. Likely belonged to one of the Walkers."
He hesitated, then continued. "There was a sidearm near the vehicle. It had been emptied. The rounds were embedded inside the truck—hit something. But there were no blood trails. No remains. Nothing we could track."
Silence followed.
Harrow exhaled slowly. "Then they may have succeeded," he said at last. "Bought the civilians time before being overrun."
He straightened. "It's possible the family was captured. Escaped. Or worse."
He turned to another unit. "Return to the site. Comb every inch. I want anything—tracks, residue, disturbances. Anything that tells us what happened to the Walkers."
Later that day, a soldier delivered the findings to Dr. Elias Grant.
Grant's expression tightened as he listened. "… So there's still a chance," he murmured, hope barely surfacing through exhaustion.
He looked at the soldier. "Did you recover the tracking team's equipment?"
"Yes, sir. All of it."
Grant drew a shallow breath, pain flickering across his face. "Then request a scan for a signal labeled 'Nomad'. If that tracker's still active… we might find Angelo. Maybe even his family."
The soldier saluted and rushed to relay the order.
The message reached Colonel Yara Veltin, who immediately summoned Corporal Lys Veera, Ironwatch's tracking technician.
"Corporal," Veltin said sharply, "locate a signal designated Nomad. Confirm whether it's active."
Veera moved to the surveillance wing and began combing through the logs.
Minutes later, she froze.
"I've got it," she said. "Active. Moving slowly—steady trajectory. Outer edge of the surveillance grid."
Veltin wasted no time. She contacted General Kaelen Mordane, commander of Ironwatch Hold.
He arrived within minutes and stared at the monitor as the signal pulsed steadily.
"We may have just found our monster," he said, voice unreadable. "Prep a scout team."
He turned to Veltin. "Tell them to take the chopper."
Veltin shook her head. "Not possible, General. The rotor hub sustained damage during Dr. Grant's rescue. It's unsafe for long-distance travel. As for the rest of the fleet… it was destroyed in the engagement with the monsters."
Mordane pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course it was."
Then, sharply: "Use ground transport. I want them rolling by 0600 tomorrow. No delays. They reach that location in five days—maximum."
"Yes, sir."
As Veltin turned to leave, she paused. "General… should we inform Dr. Grant?"
Mordane nodded once. "He's a brilliant mind. And he was close to the boy. If General Pierce trusted him, so do I. He's not a liability."
The message reached Grant's room shortly after.
"Sir," the soldier reported, "the Nomad signal has been located. A scout team deploys at 0600."
Grant nodded slowly. "Thank you."
When the soldier left, Grant closed his eyes and whispered—so softly it barely existed—
"Please be okay, Angelo…"