The blast rolled across the valley like thunder.
A deep, metallic roar swallowed by the forest—then silence.
Lira froze. The sound came from the east—Rin's sector.
For a few seconds, she stood unmoving in the drifting snow, eyes wide, heart hammering. Then her body decided for her.
She bolted.
Branches slapped against her coat as she sprinted through the trees. The wind carried the scent of burning resin and iron. Every few seconds, another rumble echoed from far off, like the forest itself was breathing fire.
"Rin…" she whispered, pulling her hood tight. Her breath came out in white bursts.
The forest ahead shimmered faintly with heat. Ash and snow fell together, gray and white. She slowed as the first wave of smoke hit, coughing once and pulling a mask over her nose.
The scene she stepped into was chaos frozen mid-motion.
Trees had been sheared in half. The earth was torn open in a wide crater, still glowing faintly from the sigil detonation. Blackened Wendigo corpses littered the ground—some missing limbs, others charred into twisted silhouettes. Their claws were melted into the bark of trees like they'd tried to climb away from the blast.
And amid the wreckage, sitting slumped against a bloodstained trunk, was Rin.
"Rin!"
His head turned sluggishly at the sound. Despite the soot and blood on his face, his mouth curved into that familiar, infuriating smirk.
"You're late," he rasped. "Thought I'd have to start without you."
Lira knelt beside him, already pulling her kit from her satchel. "You're a damn idiot."
"That's the best you've got? I just fought half a nest of those things."
"Half a nest you were told not to engage." She tore a strip of sterile gauze with her teeth and pressed it against the wound on his shoulder. Blood soaked through instantly. "You're lucky to be alive."
"Lucky's not how I'd describe it." He hissed as she poured antiseptic on the wound. "Next time, I'll wait for permission before saving everyone's asses."
"Saving who? They're all dead." Her voice cracked despite herself. "You think that helps?"
He flinched, not from the pain. The smirk faded.
Lira taped the dressing tight, hands trembling slightly. Her usual composure was fracturing—too much blood, too much silence. "You overestimated yourself again. You always do."
Rin coughed a laugh, a dry sound that turned into a grimace. "And yet here you are, patching me up again. You'd miss me if I died."
Lira glared, then sighed. "Don't make me regret it."
He leaned his head back against the bark, eyes half-closed. "How's your side of the woods?"
"Worse." She looked out at the burning trees. "The town's empty, and I found something… strange. A chapel filled with bodies. They weren't killed by Wendigos."
"Cultists?"
She nodded. "A symbol carved into their chests. The same we saw in the archives—the sigil."
Rin opened one eye. "So it's true then. People feeding the beasts willingly."
"It looks that way." Her voice softened. "But I can't figure out why. The Wendigos don't spare humans—they consume everything. So what's the point?"
Rin's gaze darkened. "Desperation. People will worship anything if it promises survival."
The wind picked up, scattering ash into their faces. For a while, neither spoke.
The forest hissed faintly, the sound of melting snow on hot metal. Somewhere distant, a single bird screamed—a rare sound these days.
Lira checked Rin's pulse. Weak, but steady. She tied off one last bandage around his ribs. "You shouldn't move for at least an hour."
"We don't have an hour."
She gave him a look. "You can't even stand."
"Watch me."
He pushed off the tree, using his broken sword for balance, but his knees nearly gave out immediately. Lira caught him under the arm.
"Sit down before you tear the wound open again!"
"You sound like Kael."
"Then maybe listen for once."
He slumped back, breathing hard. "Kael's probably halfway across the forest by now."
"Knowing him, he's probably picking fights he shouldn't."
That earned her a small grin. "Guess that makes two of us."
Lira shook her head, biting back a reluctant smile. Despite the smoke and blood, despite everything, this quiet—this sliver of humor—felt like the only warmth left in the world.
For a while, the only sounds were the crackle of burning branches and Rin's ragged breathing.
Then… something moved.
A faint clicking sound echoed through the fog. Not close, but not far either. A deliberate rhythm—like bone tapping against bone.
Lira froze. Rin's eyes snapped open.
"Tell me that's not what I think it is."
She slowly reached for her sword. "Stay still."
The noise stopped. The wind died. Even the flames seemed to dim.
Lira scanned the trees, every nerve alert. Then, between two trunks, she saw it—a silhouette, hunched and wrong. Long limbs, head tilted, eyes reflecting faint light like shards of ice.
The Wendigo didn't move closer. It just watched.
Rin's hand tightened on his blade. "One of the big ones?"
"No," Lira whispered. "Too thin. A scout."
"Great. They're scouting now."
She took a careful step forward, but the creature slipped back into the mist, silent as shadow.
Lira exhaled slowly. "It's gone."
Rin chuckled, low and humorless. "You don't believe that."
She didn't answer. Instead, she sheathed her sword and crouched beside him again. "We need to move before more come."
"You said I can't move."
"You can't. I can drag you."
Rin snorted. "Romantic."
Lira ignored him and hoisted his arm over her shoulders. He was heavier than he looked. Together they staggered forward, away from the blast site.
As they moved, the last flames flickered out behind them. The woods returned to silence—cold, vast, and waiting.
They passed shattered Wendigo corpses and trees gouged by claws. Each step left a print in the snow that filled almost instantly with falling ash.
Finally, after what felt like an hour, they reached a shallow hollow beneath an overhang of stone. Lira eased Rin down against the wall.
She collapsed beside him, exhausted, her hands still shaking from adrenaline.
Rin looked up at the gray canopy, expression unreadable. "You think the others are doing any better?"
"I hope so."
He grunted. "Hope's a cheap weapon."
Lira glanced at him. "And yet you keep carrying it."
He turned to her, meeting her gaze. For a moment, the sarcasm vanished. "Someone has to."
The wind sighed again, carrying with it that distant clicking sound. Closer this time.
Neither moved.
Lira's hand found her sword hilt again, steady now. "Rest," she said quietly. "I'll take watch."
"You sure?"
"I'm better with the quiet than you are."
He smirked faintly, eyes closing. "You're damn right."
As Rin drifted into uneasy sleep, Lira stared into the dark between the trees. Every shifting shadow felt alive. Every whisper of wind sounded like breath.
The snow fell thicker now, covering the blood, the scars in the earth, even the faint trail they'd left behind.
Soon, it looked as though no battle had ever taken place.
And in that silence—under the endless gray sky—Lira realized how small they truly were in this frozen, dying world.
She drew her coat tighter, fingers brushing the insignia on her collar.
"Ash Unit," she murmured to herself, almost a prayer. "Don't die on me now."