The Gate Zone didn't breathe.
It pulsed.
Naelii's boots crunched over ground that shifted with every step — sand, then stone, then something that felt disturbingly like flesh. The landscape bent in ways her eyes couldn't process. Trees grew sideways, twisted and sharp, with bones blooming from their trunks like fruit.
No one spoke.
The squad moved in practiced silence, scanning the horizon, marking paths with glow-dust that shimmered briefly before fading into the mist.
Naelii trailed behind, trying to shrink herself down. Her borrowed armor pinched. The knife in her hand felt more like a toy than a weapon.
And still, the hum inside her hadn't stopped.
If anything, it had grown louder.
Something beneath her skin was stretching, alert. Listening.
She blinked hard, forcing herself to focus. One misstep in the Zone could mean death — time warped, gravity buckled, fissures opened beneath your feet with no warning and no mercy.
The group crested a ridge, and the lead scout raised a hand. "There."
Below them sprawled the shattered remains of some massive machine — half-melted, swallowed by Gate growth, and rusted like a corpse left in the rain.
"Target's nesting near the wreck," said the rune-armed man. He unsheathed a long, curved blade from his back. The edge shimmered with rune-fire. "Quick strike. In, out, no heroics. Runner"—he nodded at Naelii—"you pull aggro if we need breathing room. Keep it off the backline."
"Right," she croaked.
She didn't know what half those words meant.
The squad slid down the slope like shadows. Naelii followed, every instinct screaming at her to turn and run.
They hit the valley floor. The mist shifted.
And the monster rose.
It had too many legs. Not enough face. Its skin peeled back like wet paper, revealing a skeleton made of wire and veins that shimmered like glass.
Naelii didn't scream.
She moved.
The others attacked — fast, violent, precise. Their tattoos lit up, bright as flares. A wolf lunged from someone's forearm. Vines cracked like whips. One of them sprouted molten claws and tore into the creature's flank.
Naelii stayed back, just like they told her. She wasn't here to fight. Just survive. Distract if needed.
But then the creature turned.
Right. At. Her.
"Move!" someone shouted.
She ran.
She ducked behind twisted wreckage, stumbled through thorned vines that tore through her leggings. Her lungs burned. The knife trembled in her grip.
Then it screamed.
A piercing shriek that split the air, loud enough to crack metal. Her ears rang. Her knees buckled.
The monster barreled after her. Rage poured from it like smoke. The ground shook under its charge.
Naelii could feel it behind her — pressure closing in, claws brushing the back of her neck.
Death was inches away.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
And did the only thing she could think to do.
She prayed.
Not to a god. Not to ink.
To something — anything — that would hear her.
All she knew was that she didn't want to die.