The sun hit them like judgment. It wasn't just the light after darkness. It was revelation after secrecy, glare after womb. Lana flinched, instinctively raising an arm to shield her eyes as her boots scraped against the dry concrete. Behind her, Jason stumbled through the exit and coughed sharply as the dry air burned his throat. It was the kind of cough that made his lungs sound like they were rejecting reality.
Kieran followed at a slower pace, his gaze scanning the horizon with precise, almost predatory intent. The muscles in his shoulders remained taut, not from fear—but from recognition. Whatever waited out here, it wasn't unfamiliar to him. Nyx stepped out last. She didn't blink. Didn't squint. The sun seemed to favor her, coating her in gold like it had been waiting.
They'd emerged on the edge of a ruined overpass. Beneath them sprawled the outskirts of Noctis—the dead half. Buildings rose and sagged like forgotten bones, their windows hollowed, their metal exteriors blistered from heat and corrosion. Some leaned against each other like drunk survivors after a war. Rebar stuck out of the road in twisted spirals. Concrete had collapsed in places, leaving jagged gaps and forgotten signage that swung gently in a nonexistent breeze.
Jason turned in a slow circle, taking in the surreal desolation. "Where… are the people?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.
There was no sound. No buzzing insects. No hum of generators. No clang of distant pipes. Even the wind had gone still. The silence wasn't peaceful. It was staged. Held in place like breath drawn and never released.
"Something's wrong," Kieran said, voice low.
Lana didn't glance at him. "Something's always wrong."
Nyx moved ahead, her feet silent on gravel. She glanced back once, her tone quiet, certain. "This place remembers its failures. Don't step in blood if you don't want to inherit it."
Jason muttered, "Cool. Super comforting."
They crossed the fractured stretch of road leading into the ruins. Lana moved with purpose, her every step landing clean and hard. Kieran took the left, watching the alleyways. Jason, ever watchful but uncertain, kept toward the right, nearer to the shadows than he liked. Nyx stayed ahead, weaving through debris and fallen signs like she already knew the path. The buildings around them stretched upward but offered no protection. Too many holes. Too many angles.
Walls bore layers of graffiti—some vibrant, some smeared by rain and decay. Words scrawled by the desperate, prayers from those who'd thought belief might save them, curses scratched in blood by those who'd learned too late it wouldn't.
Jason's steps slowed. "Do you hear that?"
Lana halted. She heard it too. The silence had shifted. Not louder, but more aware. A click. Then a scrape. Subtle. Bone on concrete.
Kieran's eyes narrowed. "Left. Eyes."
From the rubble they came.
Figures—no, creatures—moved low and fast. Bodies elongated unnaturally. Limbs that bent too far. Fingers tipped with bone. Skin stretched over joints like cloth wrapped too tight. Some dragged their legs, but it didn't slow them. Others moved like they didn't know how legs worked at all. Bone plating masked parts of their faces—like armor forced on flesh.
Jason stepped back and tripped on a shattered pipe. "Shit—"
The first hybrid leapt.
Kieran was already in motion. He met the creature mid-air, slashing upward. The impact was sickening. The hybrid twisted mid-fall, neck snapping like a wet branch. But more followed.
Jason fell. One of them landed on his chest, snarling with teeth that looked serrated. His arms flailed, desperate.
Lana moved.
No hesitation. No thought.
She drove her knee into the creature's back, twisted her weight, and threw it off him. It hit the ground, writhing. She didn't wait. Her elbow slammed into its throat, collapsing its windpipe. As it gagged, she grabbed its arm and tore it free. The sound was meat and tendon giving way.
Jason just stared. His mouth moved but no words came.
Another hybrid charged. Lana turned smoothly, ducked under its lunge, and kicked its knee inward with a wet pop. It screamed, but she didn't stop. She drove the jagged edge of the severed arm bone through its eye socket.
The corridor within her pulsed. It liked this.
Kieran fought in a whirlwind. His claws were out, gleaming like obsidian. Blood splattered his shirt, his face. A hybrid slashed his side, tearing through cloth and skin. He roared—not in pain, but fury—and crushed its skull with a single downward blow.
"More," he growled, eyes wild.
Three more creatures lunged from the right.
One darted toward Nyx.
She turned, unfazed. Her lips moved, uttering a word that made the air vibrate. The hybrid froze mid-run. Its limbs seized, back arched. Then it dropped, lifeless, like a puppet with its strings cut.
Jason coughed, staring. "What did you just—what are you?"
Nyx didn't answer. She stepped over the corpse without looking down.
The battle lasted five minutes. Maybe less. When it ended, the alley was wet with blood and stinking of sinew and bone. Jason slumped on a half-collapsed bench, hands trembling. Kieran stood breathing heavily, a smear of red streaking his chin. His claws dripped.
Lana didn't sit. She knelt beside one of the hybrids still alive—barely. Its chest heaved shallowly, white-filmed eyes blinking at nothing.
"Why were you waiting?" she asked.
The creature's throat had been partially torn. It tried to speak, failed. Its lips moved again. One word, barely mouthed:
"Late."
Nyx crouched beside her. "They weren't hunting. They were waiting. Watching. Guarding."
Jason raised his head. "Guarding what?"
Nyx looked toward the broken skyline. "The Queen's Eye."
The sun had dipped lower, casting long shadows through the ruined towers. The wind picked up, dry and strange, carrying with it the scent of rust and scorched wire. Lana turned her head.
High on a rooftop, silhouetted against the bruised sky, something stood. Not a man. Not a machine. A silhouette too large, too still. Watching.
Jason followed her gaze. "What the hell is that?"
Lana's voice was calm. "We're being measured."
Jason looked from the figure back to her. "By who?"
She didn't take her eyes off the thing on the rooftop.
"By the Queen's children."
A long silence followed. The kind that made your skin crawl, not from fear, but the weight of anticipation. The kind before the first drop of a storm.
The figure tilted its head.
Lana blinked.
It was gone.
Nyx stood. "We need to move before nightfall. The ones who live out here are the ones too broken to be kept inside."
Jason got to his feet. "And the ones who are inside?"
Nyx offered a thin smile. "You'll wish you'd met them first."
They turned away from the alley. From the corpses. From the wreckage.
The wind howled, carrying with it the echo of something old. Metal on bone. A rhythm too intentional to be chance.
They walked into the heart of the city.
And above them, high in the ruins of Noctis, a dozen eyes blinked open.
The hunt had begun.