The night after Grim Hollow's fall was not quiet.
It was restless—filled with the faint clicking of wandering crawlers stripped of hierarchy, the moan of wind dragging through half-collapsed ridges, the labored breaths of the wounded who fled under starlight.
Four groups, scattered in distance but united in direction, all forced south.
All forced toward Vester.
All bearing the weight of a dying outpost behind them.
And none dared look back.
The moment felt ripped from an ancient scripture—one of those brittle lines from the First Testament, born in the Era of Dawn, in the age of the old ones:
"Go now and do not look back. Flee with your life and keep your eyes ahead, for the ruin behind you is not yours to witness."
— Genesis 19:17
Tonight, those words felt less like wisdom and more like prophecy.
Further south.
Adam had not planned to lead anyone.
He wasn't a soldier.
He wasn't a hero.
He wasn't even brave—not in the way Duncan or Bright or Silas were.
