By the time their numbers reached ten, the Twilight Marshes had learned their rhythm.
Mist curled around the group as they moved—students from different classes, paired by assignment but bound now by proximity and necessity. Alex and Milo led by default, not because they claimed the role, but because hesitation killed faster than monsters.
Beast chimeras surfaced often.
Each encounter left faint distortions in the fog—afterimages of motion, of violence, as if the marsh recorded every mistake. Limbs where they shouldn't be. Eyes that reflected nothing real.
Threat ratings varied. None were simple.
Poison frogs (2–0–1) slipped between reeds, their iridescent bodies pulsing faintly. Milo's Path rune carved invisible corridors through the mist, routes the creatures hesitated to cross.
The kills yielded runes.
Transformation. Poison.
Alex studied them briefly, then turned away.
Redundant. Inefficient. Dangerous to humans and useless against Void entities. Karma cost outweighed utility.
Some power wasn't worth carrying.
As they pressed deeper, the marsh pushed back—not with force, but with erosion.
Blood Hydrangea (1–0–3) appeared in clusters. Weak. Immobile. Everywhere.
They didn't attack.
They drained.
Vitality faded in slow increments. Thoughts dulled. Arguments sparked over direction, rations, pace. Hallucinations flickered—figures at the edge of vision, whispers that dissolved when addressed.
Alex felt it too.
He anchored himself with Tempus, slowing perception just enough to identify what wasn't real. Lux grounded him when panic tried to slip in. Tenebris softened their presence, blinding creatures that hunted by sound or light.
"Keep moving," he said quietly. "Don't linger."
The group followed.
Not because he demanded it—but because his voice didn't shake.
— — —
They noticed the change too late.
Three students fell out of step.
Not suddenly. Not dramatically.
Just… wrong.
Their movements lost rhythm. Their eyes unfocused. A faint discoloration traced along their skin—subtle, almost easy to miss.
Alex stopped.
They turned toward him.
Something inside him went cold.
"They're compromised," Milo said, voice tight.
The students advanced.
Alex raised his spear, every instinct screaming against it. He adjusted his stance, not to strike—but to end movement. To disable. To stop without—
It didn't matter.
The marsh didn't allow half-measures.
Tempus flared.
The fight ended quickly.
When it was over, three bodies lay still in the mud—human shapes emptied of whatever made them themselves.
No cheers. No relief.
Just silence.
— — —
The marsh quieted, as if satisfied.
Alex sank to one knee, spear planted in the ground to keep himself upright. His hands wouldn't stop shaking.
"This isn't like before," he said hoarsely. "This wasn't unavoidable."
Milo crouched beside him. "Alex… they were already gone."
Alex shook his head. "They were still here**."**
The distinction mattered to him. Maybe only to him.
Fog twisted around them, whispering. The Hydrangea's influence lingered like residue on the air.
He stood slowly.
"I can't lead," he said. "Not like this."
Milo didn't argue.
That hurt more than disagreement would have.
— — —
Power surged nearby.
Ice crystallized across the reeds.
"Alex. Milo."
Sera emerged from the mist with the remaining students behind her, formation tight, movements precise. One glance told her everything.
She didn't ask what happened.
She took command.
Alex stepped back.
For the first time since entering the marsh, he let someone else decide the path.
And the marsh adjusted