Just then, a whisper slipped through the fog from the brown-haired woman ahead.
"That must be them."
Vlad flinched at the sudden words, even though her voice was low, just barely audible over the hush of wind and wet leaves.
Them? His gaze darted toward the light again, then back to the woman's back.
Jasmine and Tori? Or… are there others?
The idea coiled around his spine like cold wire. The girl had said "them" casually like it was obvious. Like he should know. But Vlad didn't know. That was the problem. He didn't know anything.
If the Game was good at doing one thing, then it was the calculated control and distribution of information. Without sufficient authority, no one was allowed a speck of knowledge. And the same goes for saying said information out loud.
Do I still lack authority, and that's why it's restricting information? Vlad gritted his teeth and went along with the man and the woman.
They moved closer to the light, the fog thinning just enough to reveal its source as a steady flicker between the trees, it was no longer just a vague glow, but something tangible.
Firelight. It cast long, flickering shadows on the trunks around it, shadows that writhed and danced like something alive.
Another torch.
The others pressed forward with more purpose now, their footsteps quickening ever so slightly as if drawn toward familiarity. But Vlad… slowed.
Just by a fraction. A subtle change in pace, just enough to put a few more steps between himself and the girl ahead.
Enough space to turn and run if things went wrong. If the fire turned out to be a trap. If "them" wasn't who they thought it was.
"Always have a way out." That was one of the many tactics Vlad's brother drilled into him.
The closer they got, the more he could make out in the light: shapes moving behind the fire. Motion. Conversation, maybe–low and muffled by the fog. His heartbeat slowed into a careful rhythm, each step measured and quiet.
Then, at last, the figures came into view.
Two of them.
One holding the torch, its flame casting uneven halos of light that made it hard to judge their exact features. The other was a step behind, her hand resting on something at her hip, a blade, maybe.
Vlad's eyes narrowed.
They look like female humans, at least, he thought, watching them carefully. The flicker of firelight played across their features, but it was hard to tell more at this distance. Still, they didn't move like monsters. They didn't seem distorted or twisted.
But looks could lie...
His grip tightened around the branch in his hand, the wood rough and solid beneath his fingers. Just in case.
The girl ahead raised her hand and held up three fingers. Beside her, the man showed one finger with practiced ease. No words. No sound.
Vlad hesitated. His eyes darted between them.
A pattern? A signal?
His eyes flicked to the figures up ahead. The torch-bearer responded by showing two fingers, the same gesture, the same stillness.
Is it a head count? A rank? A code? Some kind of test? He had no idea what the numbers meant.
Panic nipped at his thoughts, but he forced himself to act. Fast. The figure beside the torch-bearer had not shown their finger count but Vlad didn't want to be the last one to show it. Especially because the two people with him had already done so.
He raised his hand and flashed five fingers.
I've been at the back of the group… I should be last in this as well? I hope…
He held the gesture steady, trying to make his expression unreadable, calm. Confident, at least on the outside.
No one corrected him. No one questioned it.
The figure next to the torch-bearer showed four fingers. The gesture was returned, and that was that. The two ahead resumed walking.
That somehow worked out… Vlad let out the smallest, silent breath of relief and followed.
But is this a way to tell if we're human? He wondered, heartbeat still fast. I should remember I'm number five.
The silent tension between the two groups eased ever so slightly, and they closed the last of the distance between them.
A minute or two later, they stepped through the last layer of heavy mist and suddenly, the incline vanished.
They were standing on flat ground.
The air here still held its chill, but the oppressive slope was gone. The ache in Vlad's legs slowly receded, no longer grinding with each step. His boots sank softly into level earth scattered with moss and old leaves, and for the first time since waking, there was space enough to breathe.
He didn't show it on his face, but inside, he exhaled with quiet relief.
Finally. The climb's over.
The mist had thinned just enough for Vlad to see the two figures clearly at last. Two girls stood just ahead, their figures sharpened by the firelight.
The taller one wore scuffed brown pants and a faded green shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow. A dark shawl was wrapped around her right hand, and long black hair hung straight down her back, damp from the fog. Thin, black-framed glasses sat on her nose, catching a glint of light as she turned slightly.
She should know a lot of things. Vlad thought, watching the girl with glasses. I can use her, she might be the biggest help in finding what I need to accomplish in this creepy place.
He moved his gaze to the girl next to her. She was a much shorter girl with shoulder-length purple hair, messy and half-curled from the moisture. She wore a dirt-smudged brown shirt and a black skirt streaked with mud. A small dagger was strapped at her waist, easy to reach.
Is that… a child? Vlad blinked.
He found himself subconsciously straightening his posture, trying to gauge her height. She stood just about level with his chest. Small, but not fragile.
Maybe not, he reconsidered after observing the others. Probably...
Both of them looked worn down by the climb or the world or maybe both. Their clothes were streaked with grime, and flecked with old leaves. But they held themselves steady, alert. Watching.
Vlad silently observed them, not speaking or making any unnecessary movements. Careful not to reveal he wasn't their… friend? Colleague? He hadn't figured it out just yet...
The fire cracked softly, the only sound between them until the glasses-wearing girl finally spoke:
"We found… a couple of corpses. They looked like soldiers." her voice carried a faint, breathless strain of someone who'd been trying not to look at what she'd seen.
Soldiers? Vlad's mind latched onto the word. Does that mean…
Crack!
A deafening sound split the air behind him.
He flinched instinctively, the sound echoing like a thunderclap in the stillness. It was sharp, massive, like a tree had been torn from its roots and hurled to the ground. The very earth seemed to tremble beneath their feet.
Vlad spun, eyes wide, but the dense mist and heavy darkness swallowed everything beyond a few steps. There was nothing to see, just an endless, colorless void beyond the flickering reach of the torches.
The man with the torch didn't hesitate.
"We need to move," he said, tight and urgent.
Everyone gave a look of agreement and started moving quickly. No one needed to say it out loud. Whatever that sound had been, none of them wanted to stick around to find out. There was a small path on the flat ledge, they all moved along it.
Vlad followed the group, matching their pace, but kept looking back over his shoulder. Again. And again. Every shift in the mist felt like something was coming. Every creak of the woods, a warning. His grip on the stick tightened.
What the hell was that? Was that the 'thing' they mentioned before? Is that like... the boss of the trial? The thoughts lodged like a shard behind his ribs.
The group didn't slow. The fog pressed in behind them as if chasing.
Then the girl with the glasses spoke up, her voice low but steady, "Should we go to the corpses?"
The man with the torch turned slightly. "You said soldiers, right? So they had weapons?" His eyes shifted briefly, he glanced toward Vlad, then toward the brown-haired girl beside him.
"It'd be best," he said, "if we all had something to defend ourselves against the minions."
Minions? If it controls lesser creatures then it must be at the very least as strong as a class-three mutant, Cold sweat ran down Vlad's temples.
I don't know how the mutant classes translate into the game but if this 'thing' is as strong as a class-three, we're screwed!
Suddenly, the man's behavior made perfect sense. The way he reacted at the slightest sound. The way his shoulders stayed tight like he was waiting for something to pounce.
Even if we don't run into the boss, Vlad realized, there could be one of its minions anywhere.
The air seemed to grow heavier. The woods closer. The path tighter.
He gripped the stick in his hand harder, feeling the rough wood dig into his palm. It didn't make him feel safer anymore.
But it was all he had.
***
They followed the path in a tight line, boots crunching quietly over damp leaves and gravel. The trees grew denser on either side, branches curling low like claws overhead. No one spoke. Even the torchlight seemed nervous, flickering against the fog.
Then the ground dipped suddenly.
The others slowed, so did Vlad.
"They're down there," the girl with glasses said softly pointing her finger. "Right about there."
Vlad also stepped forward to take a look. Just ahead, the path split around a trench–wide and sunken, carved into the earth like an old scar. The green-haired man stepped down a few feet, trying to find the corpses with the torch.
The torch in the man's hand lit up the trench. And in the trench lay four bodies. Dead. Cold.
They were sprawled in awkward positions, bits of their bodies appeared to have been bitten out by powerful jaws, one of them was missing their head, and another, a hand. They were half-covered in dirt and debris like they'd been tossed there carelessly. All of them wore pieces of armor: dull chest plates, cracked helmets, bent metal guards that bore the tell-tale scratches of sharp talons. It was hard to tell how long they'd been there. Days maybe. Maybe hours.
The air felt heavier now.
A sharp gag broke the silence.
The shorter girl had turned away, one hand over her mouth, body hunched as if trying to keep her insides from forcing their way out. Her shoulders shook once, hard, but no sound followed. No vomiting. Just that ragged gasp of someone barely keeping control.
The girl with glasses stepped in without hesitation. She reached out and placed a steadying hand between the girl's shoulder blades, gentle but firm.
After a moment, the shorter girl gave a small, tense nod. She didn't speak, but she stayed upright, keeping her back to the trench.
Vlad watched the girls from the corner of his eye.
Then the man's voice cut in, low and direct, "Come down with me."
Vlad turned toward him. The man was already stepping down, torch angled toward the bodies, ready to examine what remained.
Vlad's grip on his branch tightened.
"…Alright," Vlad said finally, keeping his tone neutral. He stepped forward, dropping into the trench behind the man.