Kaelen didn't move, his posture still stiff, like he was carved out of the same stone as the mountains around us. His eyes, though, followed Seonwoo's every movement. Not in a hostile way, but with an edge of calculation, like he was weighing whether to trust the man keeping watch.
I caught the look and raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to ask for a turn?" I asked Kaelen, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
He didn't seem surprised by the question. In fact, his response was almost... knowing. "I don't need to," Kaelen said simply, his gaze shifting toward Seonwoo.
"There's nothing out there that we can't handle together."
I hesitated, considering his words. It was strange, the way Kaelen had this unsettling confidence in our ability to survive, like he was convinced we were capable of more than we realized. But there was a difference between being capable and being prepared.
"Maybe," I muttered, though doubt lingered in my tone. "But we still don't know what we're up against. Not really."
Kaelen turned his head slightly, his eyes locking with mine. There was that quiet intensity again, that unyielding gaze.
"No one knows what they're up against. Not here. Not in this world. But if we trust each other, we might stand a chance."
His words felt like a challenge, even though he hadn't meant them to be. Trust. It was a word that held so much weight now, more than it ever had before. And yet, it was a word I couldn't afford to ignore. Not in this world, not with everything on the line.
I couldn't meet his eyes for long. Instead, I glanced away, focusing on the fire, letting its flickering light distract me from the gnawing uncertainty that had settled in my chest.
Seonwoo, already on guard, had begun his patrol, moving quietly through the darkness like he belonged to it. He was a man shaped by war and survival, his every step purposeful. Kaelen and I were... different. We weren't soldiers. We were just trying to make it through, to find some sort of meaning in this nightmare of a world.
"I'll be here if you need me," Kaelen added, breaking my train of thought.
His voice was quiet but steady. It was reassuring, but in a way, it also made me feel like I was being watched—not in a bad way, but in a way that reminded me of how little I truly knew about him.
I nodded, though the tension didn't completely ease.
"I'll keep watch here for a bit. You get some rest. We'll need all our strength for tomorrow."
Kaelen didn't argue, but I saw his lips twitch as if he wanted to say something more. Instead, he simply settled down on a patch of grass near the fire, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders. His face, for once, wasn't entirely unreadable.
The moonlight illuminated the sharp lines of his features, but there was something softer in his expression. Maybe he was allowing himself to rest, or maybe he was just lost in thought like the rest of us.
I couldn't help but steal a glance at him as I leaned against a nearby tree, my eyes tracing the lines of his face, the way his jaw tightened slightly as he shifted his position. Despite everything, there was something about him that drew me in. Something I couldn't put into words, not yet.
In the quiet, the fire crackled and popped, sending small embers floating into the air. I felt a strange kind of peace in the stillness, like we were just three people in a vast, wild world trying to survive the night. But peace was fleeting here.
After a long while, I spoke again, this time to the night itself.
"I don't trust you," I said softly, my words more to myself than to anyone else.
I wasn't sure whether I was talking to the world, or to Kaelen, or even to Seonwoo. I just knew that the journey ahead would be harder than anything I'd faced before. Trust was fragile here, and though we might be bound together by necessity, it didn't mean we were safe.
Kaelen's eyes shifted in my direction at the sound of my voice, but he didn't respond. He didn't need to. We all understood that trust wasn't something that came easily. Not now. Not in this world.
The night stretched on, and we all sat in silence, each of us lost in our thoughts, knowing the fragile bonds we had would be tested in ways we could never predict.
The firelight flickered and danced in front of me, the warmth of it almost lulling me into a trance. My eyelids grew heavy, the tension in my body easing with each slow, rhythmic crackle of the flames. The night seemed endless, but at some point, the pull of exhaustion became too strong to resist.
I had fought it for as long as I could—fought the weariness that had been gnawing at me ever since we left the fort. But the world had a way of stealing what little rest I could have. And tonight, it seemed, the darkness had claimed me too.
Seonwoo's steady movements in the distance, his figure blending into the shadows, became a quiet hum in the background. I could hear him walking, listening, always alert. But my thoughts scattered like ashes on the wind, and soon enough, the world began to blur, soft edges bleeding into one another.
I didn't even realize when my head sank forward, my chin resting against my chest, my body curling up for warmth. The stars above blurred into a sea of light, and the fire's warmth felt like a distant thing, as if I were on the edge of a dream. My last conscious thought was the faint, distant sound of Seonwoo's voice, the familiar, rough edge of his tone drifting through the haze.
"We'll need to keep moving at first light," he muttered, but the words faded as if they were being spoken from across a vast distance.
The fire had dimmed to a soft glow, its heat a distant memory. I blinked into the night, groggy, trying to shake the lingering remnants of the dream that had slipped away from me. The air was cold now, and I shivered as I realized I had fallen asleep, my body curled tightly against the tree.
The world around me shifted, fading in and out like a forgotten memory. I was standing in a place that felt familiar, but the edges of it were blurry, like the haze of sleep hadn't quite lifted. A soft hum filled the air, like the noise of the city, the background chatter I used to ignore, the hustle of life I had once known.
I inhaled deeply, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the air didn't taste like ash or blood—it was just... normal. I stood on the street, the busy hum of the real world wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. The buildings were tall, the cars rushing by, and there was a soft breeze in the air. I was back. I was home.
I stepped forward, my heart lighter than it had been in days, in weeks—since I'd arrived in this ruined world. The familiar sights and sounds soothed the jagged edges of my mind. I could almost taste the freedom I once had, the simple moments that felt so far away now.
I smiled.
Then, I saw them.
They were walking toward me—people I knew. Familiar faces—friends, family, old allies. The warmth of seeing them again made my chest ache with longing.
"Harin!" someone called out, their voice clear and sweet. It was Jin, my old friend from school. His face was full of life, his eyes bright, free from the weight of the world. He was smiling. He waved.
"Jin?" I whispered, taking a step forward. The real world. My world. He was there. Everything was normal.
But then, something shifted.
I blinked, the smile on Jin's face stretching wider, his eyes suddenly gleaming with something cold. He moved toward me faster than I expected, too fast. His arms reached out, but his fingers—they were longer now, like claws.
And his eyes... they weren't Jin's eyes anymore. They were empty, hollow, with a sickening yellow gleam. The once friendly expression twisted into a grotesque, snarling grin. His skin rippled, like something was shifting beneath it, and before I could react, it morphed. His face bulged, turning gray, his jaw cracking open in unnatural ways. The features of my friend fell apart like a mask being ripped off.
I staggered backward, my breath catching in my throat as the air grew heavy, suffocating. And I wasn't alone.
Around me, the others were changing, too. Faces I had known all my life. But they weren't themselves anymore.
They were monsters.
A figure I didn't recognize—someone who looked like a stranger I used to pass by—stood a few feet away, his face stretching grotesquely. His teeth jutted out, sharp and jagged, and his skin turned a sickly green as it split, revealing raw, bloodied flesh underneath. His hands trembled, growing thicker, covered in scars and veins, claws extending into sharp talons.
"Help!" I tried to shout, but my voice barely made it past my lips. My legs felt heavy, as if the ground itself was swallowing me whole.
Another figure loomed behind me. Eunji, a woman who used to be a mentor of mine, reached out with cracked fingers. Her eyes had turned a deep red, glowing with a feral hunger as her mouth stretched open in a snarl, exposing teeth far too sharp to belong to any human.
I stumbled backward, my breath shallow and panicked. "What are you—what's happening?" I gasped, the world spinning around me.
They circled me, their eyes hungry, their movements jerky and unnatural. The people I had known, the people I had trusted, had twisted into monsters of nightmare. My chest tightened, a suffocating grip closing in on me, and I couldn't escape. I couldn't breathe. I was trapped in this nightmare, in this world I thought was safe.
I turned, looking for an escape, but everywhere I looked, the landscape was changing, too. The city around me crumbled, its buildings breaking apart, the concrete tearing open to reveal the dark, gaping maw of the earth beneath. The sky above had turned a sickly shade of red, swirling with clouds that moved too quickly, like they were alive.
The monsters closed in.
"Harin..." The whispering of my name echoed from every direction. "Harin..." It came from the things that had once been familiar. They were calling me, taunting me, pulling me closer into their embrace of terror.
I screamed. I woke up with a start.
My heart was racing, my breath shallow and uneven. The nightmare still clung to me, the images too vivid, too real. I could almost still feel the cold fingers reaching for me, hear the mocking call of my name in the distance.
Seonwoo was still keeping watch, his figure now more prominent against the dark horizon, scanning the landscape with his sharp, soldier's gaze. But something was different now.
Kaelen was sitting across from me, his body as still as a shadow, his eyes locked on the flickering embers of the fire. His silver hair seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light, a soft halo around him in the night. He hadn't moved much, as though he had stayed the same all along—observing, calculating, waiting.
I sat up, brushing the dust off my cloak, and glanced at him, trying to steady my racing thoughts. He noticed the movement and turned his gaze toward me.
"You should have woken me," I murmured, still feeling the weight of sleep clinging to me.
He tilted his head slightly, the moonlight catching the sharp lines of his face.
"You needed rest," he said quietly, his voice calm, almost soothing in its simplicity. "You've been pushing yourself too hard."
I frowned, not used to someone noticing when I wasn't at my best. Not used to someone caring. "I'm fine," I muttered, brushing it off. "I'm always fine."
Kaelen's eyes softened, though the expression was brief, and it quickly melted into his usual quiet calm.
"It's not a weakness to need rest, Harin," he said, the way my name slipped from his lips sounding strangely intimate, as if it held a weight neither of us were ready to acknowledge.
I blinked, taken aback by the way he spoke it—my name, so effortless, like it had meaning to him. Maybe it did. But I wasn't sure if I wanted to know just yet. Not when I wasn't ready to trust anyone fully. Not even him.
Seonwoo's voice broke through the moment, rough and practical.
"Enough talking," he said, his eyes briefly catching mine. "We leave at dawn. Let's make sure we're all ready."
I nodded, standing up, brushing the last remnants of sleep from my body. It was cold now, and I could feel the chill creeping in as the night deepened.
"We'll head east, towards the mountains," Seonwoo added, already shifting into motion, his posture tense and prepared for anything. "There's a path I know that might lead us to safety."
I glanced at Kaelen and then back at Seonwoo.
"And you're sure about this path?"
Seonwoo didn't hesitate, his gaze steady.
"As sure as I can be. It's the only chance we've got."
I turned back to the fire, feeling the weight of the uncertainty that lay ahead.
"Then we move out at first light."
Kaelen stood as well, his eyes following Seonwoo for a moment before turning to me. There was a quiet understanding between us, a silence that spoke of things neither of us were quite ready to say. Something fragile lingered in the air—tension, yes, but also an unspoken agreement. We would keep moving, together, no matter how uncertain it felt.
And in the flickering shadows of the night, the world outside felt a little more manageable.