The group moved cautiously through the city, the dragonhorses stepping lightly over cracked pavement and piles of debris. The buildings loomed on either side like silent giants, their broken windows staring down as if watching the intruders. Shadows stretched long in the fading light, swallowing the narrow streets and leaving an oppressive gloom in their wake.
Jenny glanced upward, her unease growing with every step. “This place feels… wrong.”
Reed, riding close behind her on Ember, kept his eyes on the road ahead. “Stay sharp. We’re not out yet.”
A low, grinding noise broke the tense quiet, distant but unmistakable. Jenny stiffened, turning her head toward the sound. It was faint at first, but as they pressed on, it grew louder, a strange rhythm that set her teeth on edge. A nervous snort from one of the dragonhorses made her grip the saddle horn tighter.
“What’s that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Before Reed could answer, the ground seemed to shift beneath them. From cracks in the asphalt and the hollowed-out doorways of nearby buildings, they emerged. Spindly legs, black and gleaming, pushed forward segmented bodies the size of dogs. The creatures’ bulbous abdomens pulsed as if alive, and their sharp mandibles clicked in a sickening harmony.
“Move!” Reed shouted.
The group spurred their dragonhorses into a gallop, hooves pounding against the broken ground. The creatures skittered after them, their speed far greater than their ungainly forms suggested. Every shadow seemed to bring more of them, pouring from crumbled walls and shattered windows.
Jenny’s heart raced as Ember surged ahead, her powerful strides sending cracks splintering through the fragile pavement.
Mewlissa, perched on her makeshift sack on the saddle, let out a low, menacing hiss. Her ears flattened as one of the creatures skittered too close, its mandibles clicking hungrily. Without hesitation, she leapt onto the creature’s back, claws flashing as she raked its carapace. The thing screeched, reeling under her ferocious attack.
But Mewlissa didn’t stay to finish the fight. With a flick of her tail, she darted off into a narrow alley, a cluster of the creatures immediately turning to pursue her. Her movements were quick and deliberate, each swipe of her claws slowing them down just enough to keep them in a tight, chaotic pack.
“Mewlissa!” Denzel roared, throwing himself from the saddle without a second thought. Reed yelled after him, his voice nearly drowned out by the cacophony of skittering legs and the rasp of claws on pavement, but Denzel didn’t pause. He vanished into the alley, his shout fading as he followed his fearless companion into the shadows.
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The group’s advance faltered as the swarm surged onto the main street, a pulsating tide of clicking legs and gleaming carapaces. The creatures moved like a living wall, their sheer numbers forcing the dragonhorses into panicked retreats. Ember reared, her claws scraping against the broken pavement as Reed fought to steady her.
“Stick together!” he shouted, his voice straining to cut through the chaos.
But the street had become a battlefield, and the swarm drove itself between them. In the chaos, Reed caught a fleeting glimpse of Chan pointing toward a flickering light emanating from the doorway of a nearby building. Laura, wielding her knife in one hand while gripping her reins with the other, glanced at him and gave a sharp nod. Without hesitation, they veered toward the building, disappearing into the shadows just as the creatures closed in behind them.
On the other side of the swarm, Ember let out a guttural cry, her massive body twisting as the horde pressed closer. One of the creatures lunged, its legs outstretched, but Jenny’s rifle barked sharply, the shot shattering the air as the spider crumpled mid-leap.
The blast sent Ember into a frenzy, her hind legs kicking violently as she bucked against the rising panic. Jenny clung to the saddle horn with white-knuckled determination, her face pale as the dragonhorse thrashed beneath her.
Reed didn’t wait. He reached out, grabbing Jenny by the arm and pulling her free of the saddle. “We’re on foot!” he barked, his tone sharp but steady. Without pausing, he dragged her toward the nearest building, the creatures’ clicking mandibles close behind.
The two of them stumbled through a crumbling doorway, Reed kicking it shut behind them. He jammed a rusted pipe into the handle, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. The dim interior was claustrophobic, the faint light from a shattered window barely illuminating the dust-filled air.
Outside, the creatures scratched and clicked at the walls, their legs probing for gaps. Jenny leaned against the wall, her pulse pounding in her ears as she struggled to steady her breathing.
“What the hell were those things?” Jenny muttered, her voice shaking despite her best efforts to sound steady.
Reed leaned against the blocked door, his breath coming in sharp bursts. “Voidspinners,” he said grimly, his eyes flicking to the faint scratches and clicks on the other side of the door. “Fast, mean, and loud. You hear that racket they make?”
Jenny frowned, her ears straining past the pounding of her own heartbeat. At first, it sounded like noise—groans, moans, and sharp, discordant sounds layered over each other. Then she caught snippets of patterns, bursts of rhythm and tone. It felt oddly structured, even familiar in a way she couldn’t place, like static on an old radio barely tuned to a channel.
“What is that?” she asked, her voice low.
Reed shrugged. “Hell if I know. Some people say it’s voices from the past, pieces of the world before. Others think it’s just noise meant to mess with your head. All I know is it’s creepy as hell.”
Jenny stayed quiet, her thoughts racing. The sounds weren’t random; there was an order to the chaos. It clicked in her mind, faint memories of bunker archives and recordings. Could those noises be fragments of old-world broadcasts? The idea sent a chill down her spine. She shook the thought away, forcing herself to focus on the here and now.
“We can’t stay here,” Reed said, his eyes scanning the dust-covered furniture and broken walls of the lobby. A sagging couch sat in one corner, its fabric rotted to threads. The air was heavy, the gloom pressing down like a physical weight.
Jenny followed his gaze to the shadowed stairwell. The open staircase spiraled upward into the darkness, its steps littered with debris. “The only way is up,” she said quietly.
Reed gave a sharp nod, pushing off from the door. “Let’s move. If they get through that door, I don’t want to be anywhere near ground level.”
The two of them stepped carefully toward the stairs, their footsteps muted against the thick layer of dust. Jenny couldn’t help but glance back at the blocked door one last time, the sounds beyond it growing fainter as they climbed. Each groan and moan still sent a chill through her—each one a reminder that the past wasn’t as far behind as she’d thought.
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The stairs creaked beneath their boots as Reed and Jenny climbed, their breaths steady but tense in the suffocating quiet of the building. Darkness enveloped them, thick and absolute, broken only by the faint shafts of moonlight that seeped through cracked windows and holes in the walls. Shadows stretched and shifted with their movements, playing tricks on the edges of their vision. The faint smell of mildew hung in the air, mingling with something faintly metallic. The further they ascended, the less destruction they found; the broken, jagged edges of the exterior gave way to interiors that were merely old—worn but less touched by the chaos outside.
They passed doors that hung loosely on their frames, their hinges rusted and splintered. The graffiti scrawled across the walls grew fainter the higher they went, as though even the vandals hadn’t bothered climbing this far. At last, on the fourth floor, they found an open door leading into a long-abandoned apartment.
Reed stepped through cautiously, his boots scuffing the parquet flooring. The place was cramped, its layout unfamiliar—no open-plan design or expansive spaces here. A relic from another time. He pulled a torch from his pack and struck it alight with a flint. The flickering flame cast warm, uneven light across the room, revealing faded wallpaper and a scattering of broken furniture. Shadows danced on the walls, moving in time with the flame, as if the room itself were holding its breath.
Jenny followed him, her eyes darting around the space. The furniture, covered in a thick layer of dust, had the blocky practicality of a bygone era. A small table sat near the window, its surface warped but sturdy, with mismatched chairs tucked haphazardly beneath it. On one wall hung a faded tapestry, its once-vivid patterns dulled by time. There was something oddly cozy about it, a snapshot of a life long gone.
Reed moved further into the room, his hand brushing over the table’s edge as he surveyed the space. Finally, he turned and closed the door behind them with a quiet click, the sound muted but final in the stillness.
He leaned against the door for a moment, letting out a breath. “Well, it’s not a fortress, but it’ll do.”
Jenny glanced around, her fingers brushing a dusty countertop. “Cozy,” she muttered, though the faint smirk on her face betrayed her sarcasm.
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Reed grunted in reply, wedging the torch into a cracked sconce on the wall. The flickering flame illuminated the room in uneven waves, casting shadows that danced across the faded wallpaper. He dropped his pack on the floor with a thud and started toward the room’s small kitchenette. He froze mid-step when Jenny spoke again, her tone casual but pointed.
“So,” she said, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Laura. Is she your girlfriend?”
Reed spun to face her, his expression a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now? We’ve got voidspinners on our tails, and you’re worried about my love life?”
Jenny shrugged, a flicker of amusement in her grey eyes. “You never answered last time, and now there’s no escape. So... spill.”
Reed ran a hand through his hair, leaning back against the doorframe. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
Jenny leaned her weight slightly to one side, resting her left hand on her hip in a gesture that was somehow both casual and challenging. “And you’re avoiding the question.”
Reed let out a sigh, pushing off the doorframe and pacing a few steps into the room. “Alright, fine. You want the truth? Laura’s not my girlfriend.”
Jenny raised an eyebrow, her interest clearly piqued. “Then what is she?”
Reed turned, leaning against the edge of a dusty table. “She’s... well, she’s everyone’s.”
Jenny blinked, confusion flickering across her face. “Everyone’s?”
“Yeah,” Reed said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, out here, life’s short. Real short. You don’t know if you’ll wake up tomorrow, or if some monster’s gonna make you its next meal. Hell, even the water might kill you if you’re not careful.” He shrugged, his voice growing steadier. “So, you don’t waste time overthinking stuff like... you know. Needs.”
Jenny stared at him, her mouth opening to respond, but no words came out.
Reed gestured vaguely with one hand, his tone almost matter-of-fact. “It’s just... biological, you know? When someone’s got the itch, they scratch it. Laura’s... she’s good at reading people. She picks who’s willing, who’s free. No hang-ups. No strings. Everyone’s happy.”
Jenny finally found her voice, though it wavered slightly. “So... you all just... take turns?”
Reed smirked, though it was more wry than amused. “Not exactly a schedule or anything, but yeah. No shame, no drama. It works.”
Jenny’s face was a mix of shock and awkward understanding as she processed the idea. “That’s... that’s so weird.”
Reed raised an eyebrow. “Is it? Or is it weird that people used to tie themselves in knots over something so basic?”
Jenny shook her head, her voice quieter now. “I guess I just... never thought about it like that. Back in the bunker, it wasn’t like this. Everything was... structured. Controlled. Relationships, families, all of it. But this...” She trailed off, her gaze unfocused as she tried to wrap her head around the concept.
Reed watched her, his expression softening. “Out here, you don’t have the luxury of overcomplicating things. You live. You survive. And if you’re lucky, you find a way to make it all a little less miserable.”
He paused, leaning forward slightly, his tone growing more practical. “And honestly? Unresolved tension? It screws with your head. Makes you reckless, clouds your judgment. That kind of distraction can get you killed out here. So, yeah, it’s in everyone’s best interest to just... handle it.”
Jenny blinked at him, caught off guard by the bluntness of his statement. “You make it sound like... I don’t know. Brushing your teeth or something.”
Reed shrugged, his grin faint but amused. “Not a bad comparison. Necessary, routine, keeps everything running smooth. And it’s a hell of a lot better than walking around all twisted up in knots.”
Jenny frowned, her thoughts racing as she tried to process the practicality of it all. “That’s... really how you all see it?”
“Pretty much,” Reed replied. “No shame in it. No big deal. And no one gets hurt because there’s no illusions, no strings. Just makes sense.”
Jenny looked up at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. “That’s why Laura was so hostile, wasn’t it? When we first met?”
Reed chuckled dryly. “Part of it, yeah. New face, new dynamic. You showing up threw things off. And, uh... let’s just say the whole race thing didn’t exactly help your case.”
Jenny winced. “Right. That.”
Reed gave her a half-smile. “Don’t take it too hard. She’s slow to trust, but she’s fair once she gets there. Just give it time.”
Jenny nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. She leaned her head against the wall, her thoughts a mix of unease and quiet realization. “This world is... something else.”
Reed smirked faintly, grabbing his pack and slinging it over his shoulder. “Now how about we turn our attention to what’s at hand—before Denzel kills all the monsters single-handedly.”
Jenny snorted, the humor cutting through some of the tension, but the weight of their situation lingered as she glanced toward the barricaded door. “So... what now? We stay here? Wait it out?”
Reed rubbed the back of his neck, his expression grim. “That’s one option. Not a great one, though. We stay, and we’ve got no idea what’s happened to the others. Maybe they made it. Maybe they didn’t. But even if they did, we’ll have a hell of a time linking back up in this mess.”
Jenny chewed her lip, glancing toward the rifle leaning against the wall. “And the other option?”
Reed gestured vaguely toward the window, his voice laced with dry sarcasm. “We charge out there, guns blazing, and see how far we get before the ammo runs out.”
Jenny’s stomach tightened. “Not exactly a winning strategy.”
“Welcome to the Danger Zone,” Reed muttered. He leaned against the wall, his brow furrowed in thought. “We need a plan. Something not entirely suicidal.”
Jenny’s mind raced as she looked around the decrepit apartment, her gaze falling on the sparse furniture and broken remnants of the old world. “What if... we distract them? Draw them off somehow? Maybe give ourselves a chance to slip through?”
Reed glanced at her, one eyebrow arched. “Not the worst idea. But what’s the bait? And how do we make sure we’re not the ones who end up on the hook?”
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Before they could decide, the low, rhythmic sound of skittering legs rose from outside the apartment. It wasn’t the cacophony of earlier—it was deliberate, methodical, and far too close.
Reed froze, his eyes snapping to the crumbling window frame. The flickering torchlight only made the shadows outside more menacing. His grip tightened on the torch as he stepped closer, his jaw clenching.
Jenny followed his gaze, her breath catching as the faint sound of skittering grew louder. No words passed between them—they both knew exactly what it was.
The voidspinner’s leg hooked over the edge of the open frame, its glossy carapace gleaming in the torchlight like molten metal. Reed grabbed the torch, ripping it free from where he’d secured it, as the creature hauled itself inside.
“Up! Now!” Reed barked, dragging Jenny toward the door.
They sprinted into the stairwell, the sound of the creature’s body smashing through the window echoing behind them. Reed led the way, the torch casting erratic light on the crumbling stairs. Jenny followed close, her breathing sharp but steady as they climbed higher.
“Keep moving!” Reed yelled as a second voidspinner emerged from a doorway above them. He raised his rifle, firing a shot that echoed like thunder in the enclosed space. The creature reeled back, its legs scrabbling against the wall.
Jenny surged past, her foot catching a stray piece of debris. She stumbled but recovered, her fingers brushing the stairwell rail for balance. Behind her, more skittering came from below, faster now.
“They’re closing in!” she shouted.
Reed didn’t answer, his focus entirely on reaching the roof. They burst through the final door, the cold night air hitting them like a wall. The city stretched around them, an endless sprawl of darkened buildings and jagged shadows.
The voidspinners followed.
Jenny turned, her leg sweeping in a powerful arc that connected with the first creature. It tumbled over the edge of the roof, its shriek fading as it fell into the abyss below. Another skittered toward her, its sharp legs clicking against the rooftop. She lashed out again, but this one dodged, lunging toward her.
Reed shoved it back with the butt of his rifle, firing another shot into its abdomen. The force sent it staggering, but more emerged, crawling up the sides of the building and over the ledges.
“We can’t hold them off!” Reed shouted, firing another round. His movements were sharp and precise, but the spiders kept coming. One lunged at him, and he dodged, barely avoiding its grasping legs.
Jenny kicked another over the edge, her breathing ragged. She tried to grab Reed’s arm to pull him back toward the stairwell, but a thick strand of web shot out, wrapping around her left leg. She yelped, trying to shake it off, but the stickiness held firm.
“Jenny!” Reed swung his rifle like a club, smashing into the voidspinner pulling her toward the edge. The blow connected, but more webbing shot from a second creature, ensnaring his arm and torso.
The pair fought viciously, but the tide was overwhelming. Webs shot from all sides, pinning them to the rooftop. Jenny struggled, her muscles straining against the sticky threads. Reed grunted, managing to free one arm briefly before another strand caught him.
As the voidspinners closed in, their legs clicking and fangs glinting in the torchlight, Jenny’s heart pounded in her chest. This was it.
Pinned to the rooftop by the relentless webs, Jenny struggled, her muscles straining against the sticky threads that bound her arms and legs. She could hear Reed grunting beside her, his voice muffled as he thrashed against his bindings. For a moment, he managed to free one arm, swinging wildly to fend off an approaching voidspinner, but another silvery strand shot out, catching him again and forcing him down.
The torch lay discarded a few feet away, its flickering flame casting long, shifting shadows across the rooftop. The voidspinners loomed over them, their metallic legs clicking rhythmically as they tightened the webbing with a precision that was almost mechanical. Fangs glinted in the torchlight, and their alien, unblinking eyes fixed on the trapped pair.
Jenny’s chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, her vision blurring from the strain. Every muscle in her body screamed, but the more she fought, the tighter the webbing grew. The cable-like strands weren’t just sticky; they seemed to pulse faintly, alive with some incomprehensible energy. She turned her head, catching Reed’s eye.
“Reed,” she muttered, her voice shaky but defiant. “What now?”
He glanced at her, his jaw tight, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. His expression was hard, determined, but there was a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “Still working on that.”
The skittering sound of the Voidspinners grew louder as more emerged from the edges of the rooftop, surrounding them completely. Their fused forms of flesh and machinery moved with terrifying coordination, their glossy carapaces catching the weak torchlight. Jenny’s breath hitched as she realized just how many of them there were.
One of the larger voidspinners approached her, its grotesque body casting a looming shadow over her. She could see its legs in horrifying detail—jagged, metallic edges meshed with organic tissue—and the faint hum of gears and wires threaded through its frame. It wasn’t entirely alive, and it wasn’t entirely a machine. It was something worse.
Jenny tried to scream as it reared back, a viscous, glowing substance dripping from its fangs. But before she could make a sound, the thick slime splattered onto her chest and arms, spreading a numbing coldness through her body. Her head swam as the sensation seeped into her muscles, making them feel like lead. The world tilted, her vision dimming.
Reed thrashed again, his movements slowing as more of the eerie webbing cocooned his body. “Jenny!” he shouted hoarsely, his voice echoing in her fading consciousness.
She turned her head weakly, catching one last glimpse of him as the threads covered his face, muffling his cries. Her own vision blurred, but not before she saw the webbing in detail: a chaotic tangle of cables—ethernet, power lines, coaxial—woven into an impossible network. The voidspinners weren’t just capturing them. They were weaving them into their strange, surreal system.
Darkness crept into the edges of her vision. The last thing she heard was the relentless click-click-click of the voidspinners’ legs as they worked.
Then, silence.