They didn't talk much after they left Jude.
Even after the trees opened up and the strange hills gave way to a wide basin littered with wreckage, even when they first spotted the lights — not firelight, not torches, but a pulsing, electric glow that beat like a pulse under the earth — neither Thomas nor Nia said a word. The silence between them had changed. It wasn't heavy. It wasn't awkward. It was mutual, and necessary, and understood.
Because now they both knew.
It wasn't just about survival. It wasn't just about the monsters or the abilities or the sky that refused to move. This place had a rule set, and the most dangerous variables were not the things hiding in the woods.
They were people.
The camp lay across the edge of a cracked valley, half-collapsed on one side where a ridge of bone-white stone jutted from the ground like the spine of something long dead. It looked like someone had tried to build a shelter and a signal tower at the same time — antennae made from scrap metal stabbed toward the sky at odd angles, wrapped in wire and circuit filaments that glowed with pale green light. The walls were low and uneven, built from salvaged plastic, fused glass, and what looked like strips of carbon fiber — not from Earth, or not anymore.
From a distance, the people moved like figures in a dream. They didn't run. They didn't talk much. Just walked slowly from structure to structure, carrying objects too strange to name. One man carried a large cube that vibrated softly with each step. A woman passed him with arms full of what looked like shattered screens.
And in the center of it all sat the woman.
Her back was straight. Her legs folded perfectly. Her arms rested on her knees, palms upward, and her eyes never closed. They stared straight into the sky, locked and unblinking, as though she were watching something no one else could see. Pale lines of light traced across her skin like veins under glass. She didn't twitch. She didn't blink. She didn't breathe.
Nia crouched beside Thomas behind a twisted tree root just above the camp perimeter. The wind was cold here, though there were no clouds. Just that endless purple sky.
"They don't look right," Nia whispered.
Thomas swallowed, trying to ignore the dry taste in his mouth. "I know."
"They're like… sleepwalking."
He nodded.
The woman's eyes suddenly shifted.
Right at them.
Thomas froze. His skin went cold.
She smiled.
Just a little.
Then turned her gaze back to the sky like nothing had happened.
"Did she just—?"
"Yeah," Nia said. "She saw us."
But no one else moved. No alarms. No weapons raised. The camp didn't react. That was somehow worse.
They waited another few minutes. No one came. No change. Just the soft hum that now seemed to be vibrating up from the soil itself, buzzing faintly in Thomas's bones. Not sound. Not really. It was lower than sound, like something deeper.
Eventually, they crept down the slope. Quiet. Careful. The trees grew thinner the closer they got to the camp. A half-burned sign stuck in the ground read Sector G3 — Recovered Node, though the letters kept shifting when you looked too long.
Thomas activated his Null Veil and slipped through the perimeter. The world dulled instantly, sound and color retreating to the background. Everything became cold and still. Like he had stepped into a photograph.
Inside the camp, he could hear it more clearly now.
The hum had rhythm.
It wasn't random. It was a pattern. Four notes. High, low, low, high. Then a pause. Then again.
Like a heartbeat. Or code.
Nia followed shortly after, breath shallow. She hadn't used an ability, but the guards — if that's what they were — didn't move. One stared blankly at a flickering screen that projected images of people, hundreds of tiny figures marching in place, looping endlessly.
Then a voice spoke behind them.
"You two can stop pretending now. We saw you ten minutes ago."
Thomas spun, reaching for his bag. Nia raised her spear.
But the man who spoke had not drawn a weapon. He was tall, lean, probably mid-thirties, wearing a long coat made from stitched-together rations packaging and something that looked like melted keyboard keys. A rifle hung on his back, untouched. His hands were out and open.
"I'm Elias," he said, calm and easy. "You're not the first wanderers to sneak in here. You won't be the last."
"Who are you?" Thomas asked.
"The one trying to keep this place from falling apart," Elias said.
He motioned for them to follow.
The camp was bigger than it looked. There were about thirty people. Most didn't speak. Some sat in small clusters, others slept under tarps. One woman was crying quietly in a corner, arms wrapped around her knees. A little boy stood nearby, drawing strange symbols in the dirt with a stick. No one stopped him. No one looked at him.
Elias led them to a tent near the far wall. Inside, a slab of what looked like petrified flesh had been flattened and carved into a crude map. Colored strings crossed between zones. Pins had been jabbed into key points, marked with bone fragments and teeth.
"It's not a perfect layout," Elias said. "But we think this whole place is divided into layers. Each one with a purpose. Or a trial."
"Trials for what?" Nia asked.
Elias hesitated. "Some think it's for selection. Others think it's a maze."
Thomas pointed to one zone marked in red. "And what's that?"
Elias glanced at it. His face darkened. "Dead zone. Nobody comes back from there. The ones that try either vanish or show up days later with no eyes and screens still running."
Silence settled again.
"Who's the woman?" Thomas finally asked. "The one watching the sky."
"She's syncing," Elias said. "She's at ninety-one percent. Almost full."
"What happens when you hit full?"
"We don't know. Most people never make it that far. The system either rejects them or something else gets to them first."
He walked over to a bin in the corner and tossed them two small packets. Inside were nutrient bars with no label, dark gray in color and oddly warm.
"Eat. Rest. But if your sync jumps too fast, we quarantine."
Thomas frowned. "You mean lock us up?"
"I mean we keep you away from the others. The ones who sync too quickly change. Not all at once. Not obviously. But you see it in their eyes. In the way they talk. They start using words the system hasn't taught anyone yet."
Nia looked toward the camp entrance. "So the people outside…?"
"Some are normal. Some aren't. You learn to spot the difference."
The hum pulsed louder suddenly. A sharp note echoed through the camp. The woman in the center stiffened. Her fingers twitched. Her head tilted backward just slightly, as if listening to something above the clouds.
Everyone froze.
Then, as quickly as it started, the tone stopped. The woman exhaled slowly and returned to her previous state.
Elias stared at her for a long time. "She's close now. Too close."
That night, Thomas couldn't sleep. Even with a blanket and a tarp and a faint campfire nearby, his body refused to relax. The stars above had changed again. They weren't twinkling. They were flickering. And every now and then, they rearranged into symbols that didn't belong in any alphabet.
A new line of text floated briefly across his vision.
[Warning: Instability Event Approaching]
[Location: Unconfirmed]
[Estimated Time: 14h 22m]
Thomas sat up slowly.
The sky was no longer silent. It whispered now. Not words, not language. Just a hiss like static crawling through his skull.
He turned and saw Nia watching him.
"You heard it too?" she asked.
He nodded.
Far in the distance, beyond the ridge, something howled. Not a beast. Not a person.
Something else.
They lay back down.
No one spoke.
Sleep, when it finally came, brought no comfort.
Only static.
And something cold, watching from the trees.