Ten years later…

The clang of the shovel striking compact dirt echoed through the stifling air. Beads of sweat dripped from Hunter's arm, his wiry body a testament to the years he'd spent laboring in the grim task of digging graves. The blare of the conch shell felt loud enough to crack the heavens in two.

People always told Hunter to dream big if he wanted to escape the shackles of his grim fate—forty years of hard labor on Death Island. He had his own plan in mind. Real change came from the cumulation of all the little things he did every day to stay strong and survive.

Now, the moment had arrived to defy the system and complete the Trial of Worth, the divine ticket to gain the coveted status of a cultivator that’d been denied to him for too long.

Hunter knelt beside the freshly turned earth, taking a portion of dried fish jerky from his storage ring. It was the only item given to him by his parents that he’d taken with him to the island. He broke off a piece of the dried fish and dangled it enticingly in front of the burrow.

"You'd best get out here before Chewy arrives.” His voice cracked as he took a breath. Throat parched, and his Pre-Refiner body aching, he promised a whole pantheon of gods he’d slay hordes of demon goats in their honor if they’d send more Fall rains his way. Only they would soothe his sunbaked skin and dampen the Soulvines stench that hung heavy in the air.

The rat sniffed, its grubby pink nose poking out from the shadows of a shallow grave. Tiny clumps of dirt tumbled as the beast scampered along the wall.

With patience, Hunter waited for the beast’s paws to stretch for the jerky. Instead, it snagged its meal with its teeth in one swift motion, leaping over his shoulder.

Laughing, Hunter pivoted, seizing the creature in mid-leap, his hand closing over its hairy body. "You rodents are the smartest creatures on this island, even without cultivating aether."

Scooping the beast into his hands, he nudged the rat toward a waiting twine trap, but it shook its head, tapping a paw against its mouth.

"Everyone loves their fluffy bunnies, all cute and cuddly, but none can match your wit."

Tearing his final ration of jerky apart, Hunter offered it to the rat, whose beady eyes fixated on the last piece, whiskers twitching.

Hunter looked to the tide waters that lapped at the edges of the land bridge. He sighed and tossed the remaining fish jerky to the rat. "Come on, scavenger, I need to finish early today. There's a Coming-of-Age Ceremony I'm not officially invited to, but I plan to attend."

A distant dog's yelp pierced the air.

"Go on now, you got what you wanted. Big Nic will be here to slap that dog to the wayside. Poor pup. Don't blame him for coming back here every day."

The ground shifted behind him, and a familiar voice groaned. "What's this talk about you having a soft spot for that mangy mutt?" The towering man himself peered down at him as he kicked his boot against loose dirt clods.

The speaker was Nic, Hunter's mentor, a man who always appeared gruff, yet beneath the exterior, he harbored a soft spot for the unfortunate, except for that one persistent dog.

"I'm more worried about the rats’ welfare than the scrappy little dog.” Hunter tried to sound casual.

Nic shook his weapon, a pole mattock whose formidable tip could inflict more damage than merely breaking stubborn soil. "Keep feeding them rats, and they'll never leave. Between you and this island’s poisonous mourn berries, they'd end up drowning with their oversized bellies if they ever attempted to swim back to the mainland."

The frightened rat darted back into its burrow, evading the strategically placed traps Hunter had set. If it weren't for the countless deaths he'd witnessed in his eighteen years, Nic's presence might have sent shivers down his spine.

With a swift and powerful slam of his pole mattock, Nic caused the earth to tremble beneath him as he continued his rant about the rats. Hunter knew he needed to act swiftly. Otherwise, his mentor might end up digging his own grave amid the hidden rat traps Hunter wasn’t supposed to have placed in the cemetery.

As much as he considered the rodents his friends, he was bound by the commands of Gravedigger Nic's authority, as dictated by the Magistratus' policies.

Straightening, Hunter brushed dirt from his pants with a quick flick of his palms. "All is in order here.” He stepped to the side, hoping Nic would follow. “Let’s keep it cleared in case we have a surprise inspection. We ought to check on the Soulvines."

The sound of a conch horn reverberated through the air, drawing Hunter's gaze back to the land bridge. His breath caught at the sight of the cracked, stone tower as it flashed in his mind’s eye.

There was no time to consider its meaning now.

Time to cross the waterway was limited. If he wanted to make it before the guards closed the gates, he needed to leave within the hour.

Nic slammed the end of his pole mattock into the ground, refocusing Hunter's attention.

Hunter winced, fearing that the traps might collapse beneath Nic's powerful blow.

Arms folded, tunic sleeves taut, Nic continued, "You're letting yourself be distracted again, lad. As much as you think you should be a pawn in that broken cultivation system, you possess more potential than they could ever offer. Don't chase after those illusory dragons. Trust your instincts, the ones you've honed. I understand your need to have things your way, but sometimes, there's wisdom in yielding."

Hunter offered a simple nod in respect for his mentor. If he had a ration for every time he'd heard this advice, his belly would always be full.

As he reached back into the grave, grasping a rat attempting to sneak a peek, he nudged it toward a trap. Dirt scattered as he began to lift the now-empty trap, and he muttered a curse under his breath.

Balancing the trap on its edge, Hunter realized that the bottom had rusted, allowing the beasts to burrow their escape before he could relocate them. He shook his head, dismayed. The Scale Rot from the deceased had leached into the soil, compromising the traps' integrity. There was no way he could reveal this foolish mistake to Nic.

He released the broken trap and stood, glancing back toward the mainland.

Nic's scowl carved canyons deeper into his sun-baked face. "I know that look, lad. You’ve been daydreaming about that damn tower again."

Hunter brushed off the accusation with a wry grin. "I wasn't daydreaming, Nic. Just taking a well-earned break." Hunter motioned with a flick of his thumb, to the sweat-soaked labor he'd endured. Talking about the tower was about as useful as prattling on about the stranger with the yellow eyeglasses.

Only Hunter could see them.

Nic's gaze honed in on Hunter's handiwork. His eyes bulged as he laid both meaty hands on Hunter's shoulders and spun him around.

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"Besides that grave, I gave you one more task—get rid of them blasted rats." He jabbed a thick finger toward a rat darting about near a freshly dug plot.

Hunter shrugged to mask his guilt.

"Cat got your tongue?" Nic prodded, his impatience showing.

Hunter held his silence. Saying too much would be like digging his own grave.

Big Nic tossed his hands skyward. "The Magistratus has a kill order on those vermin, you know. I've got enough trouble scrubbing widow Renata's dog's arse graffiti from her late husband’s grave. I've never seen something so small produce such vengeful shits."

Hunter knew Nic wasn't exaggerating. The last time widow Renata's dog had defiled his late owner's resting place, Hunter had to clean up the foul mess. "The size of a baby's head, it was. You can only produce that much crap if you truly despise someone."

Nic nodded grimly, his anger easing as he commiserated with Hunter. "I know you're a hard worker, lad, but you've gotta stay on top of everything, not just the tasks you fancy."

As Nic stepped back, his boots sinking into the freshly turned earth, he gestured toward the Soulvine bushes. "Trimming those damn bushes is a thankless job. They grow like bloody weeds here." He shook his head. "But if we don't do it, they'll overrun this place. You know what happens then."

Hunter sighed. Those Soulvines thrived on the decomposing bodies and their mourn berries could kill a man twice Nic's size in a heartbeat. And damn those tiny yellow flowers, blooming nearly year-round. Flowers with a stench so awful it could give a Molossus demon the shits...

Out of the corner of Hunter's eye, he spotted the rat disappearing from sight behind a bush. These rats avoided the remains of the buried for a reason — they could smell the Scale Rot. Only those that Hunter had tamed dared venture near the graves, with their nests overlooking the sea.

"Remember when you first came under my care?" Nic's tone softened with a hint of warmth. "You were a wee slip of a lad, sick as a parrot every day until I figured out what caused it."

Hunter groaned at the painful memory. "How could I forget?” The daily nausea was seared into his mind. It only eased up after a few weeks, as he built up a tolerance to that toxic Soulvine stench.

"You were a pitiful sight back then." Nic’s nostalgia softened his gruff voice. "But it toughened you up for this life on the island."

Hunter remembered the blaze in Nic's eyes when he discovered that the Soulvines had been the source of Hunter's sickness. He couldn't tell whether that fury was directed at Nic himself for not realizing it sooner or at those audacious bushes that dared to thrive on the dead.

Nic had attacked them with a ferocity unlike anything Hunter had witnessed before. But no one else noticed, except Hunter. The belief that the gravesites were as contaminated as the workers who tended to them kept visitors scarce in the cemetery.

Hunter rolled his shoulders back and grinned. "I may have been a sorry sight then, but look at me now—as tough as old boots."

Nic doubled over with laughter, clutching his sides. "You're a hardy young pup, no doubt about it, but you're still a bit on the scrawny side, even with those double rations I give you for all that digging."

Hunter's grin only widened.

A black-and-tan blur darted by them, yelping as Big Nic roared, "How did that mutt get through the fence again?" He lunged for the audacious canine but missed, chasing after him instead.

Run, Chewy, you daft little scut, Hunter thought, admiring the dog's dedication. Chewy had traveled half the island, past all manner of dire beasts, just to defile his deceased owner's grave.

Hunter's grin faded when he realized the mutt was leading Nic right over the hidden traps he'd set to capture, not kill, the rats.

"Wait!" Hunter yelled, racing after them. He reached Nic in no time.

The big man slowed but didn't stop, his focus fixed on Chewy as they navigated mounds of freshly dug earth.

Chewy paused, distracted by the army of worms wriggling up from the soil like fingers of the damned.

"You take a break, Nic. I've got this." Hunter urged, tugging at Big Nic's sleeve. The doubt in Nic's eyes was evident.

"Seriously.” Hunter persisted, pulling a little harder to shift Nic away from the graves. “Let the dog have his revenge. I'll clean it up."

"What about tomorrow and the day after that?" Nic countered, planting a hand on his hip. "We've got to show that dog who's boss around here. These folks have suffered enough in life. They deserve to rest in peace."

"You're right, but Chewy’s owner, Kakos, was an arsehole. Being six feet under just makes him a dead arsehole. Let the dog take one final defiant dump on his grave, and I promise I'll help you fortify the fence."

Chewy barked at the worms, effortlessly hopping over them with his twiggy little legs. Nic growled and resumed chasing him as if he hadn't heard Hunter's words.

Kakos’ grave lay just beyond the trap area.

Nic picked up his pace, boots pounding the earth, when suddenly the ground gave way, swallowing him whole.

Hunter rushed to the edge and peered down. His underground rat-catching network lay exposed and shattered. Rats scattered everywhere, swarming like a plague.

"Hunter!" Nic roared, sending the worms wriggling deeper into the soil.

Hunter extended a hand, and the hefty man took it. Surprisingly nimble for his size, Nic resurfaced just as the rats swarmed around them, fleeing their disrupted underground haven.

Nic brushed himself off, his expression a mix of anger and betrayal.

It stung worse than any rodent bite. Hunter hated to let Nic down.

"I should report you for this, but if I do, the Magis…" Nic's face drained of color as he glanced over Hunter's shoulder.

"Report what?" A nasal voice sliced through the air.

Hunter turned slowly.

The Magistratus stood there, a handkerchief pressed firmly to his nose. "I came to deliver this." He handed Nic a scroll. "I'm a busy man, as you well know, and I expect this place to be in order. Especially on a day as momentous as this. Given my importance to the Emperor, I am a guest of honor at the Coming-of-Age Ceremony on the mainland." He snorted, disgust painting his eyes dark. "Vermin running amok here, and it seems your apprentice is as well. What's more concerning is you didn't even notice." He gestured to the scattered traps.

A distant conch horn blared.

The Magistratus winced. He backed away gingerly, avoiding the rats as if they were carriers of the plague. "That's the third horn. Blast it!" He brandished his herald's blessing token and exit token. He snapped his fingers, the tokens disappearing. "I can't deal with this now. Heaven forbid the tide cuts me off from the landbridge. Lock the boy in his quarters, and we'll address this when I return. At first light, after the land bridge reopens, you'll bring him to my office. I'll decide on his punishment then."

Without waiting for Nic's response, he spun on his fancy boots and marched back to the carriage at the cemetery gates, bound for the mainland.

"I'm not a boy!" Hunter’s brows furrowed, the memory of his uncle's nickname for him stinging like a fresh wound.

Nic playfully clipped him across the head. "You're a bloody nuisance, that's what you are.” Nic looked at the scroll in his hand and frowned before hastily stowing it away. “And as for that damn Magistratus, he never misses a chance to strut in here, throwing his weight around and gloating."

Hunter reached into his pocket, pulled out a linen cloth, and offered it to Nic as a peace offering. "Give me a chance, and I'll gather the rats and relocate them to the far shore, away from everyone."

Nic wiped the grime from his face and hands. "Come on, lad, you've caused enough havoc for one day."

The big man led Hunter back to his quarters, a small room upstairs in their simple lodgings on cemetery grounds.

"I'm sorry, Nic. I didn't mean to wreck the cemetery. I thought I could tame the rats and keep them out of sight."

"Wild things are unpredictable. You should know that by now. Do me a favor?" Nic paused, waiting to ensure he’d had his attention.

Hunter nodded, ready to make amends.

"Don't tell me you’re sorry, show me. And don’t run off like you’ve done every other time. You can keep yourself busy by cleaning up the mess on that tinkerer’s table of yours." Nic pointed to the corner where a wooden table stood with all manner of scavenged tools and contraptions scattered on top. Above it salvaged bottles filled with berries and herbs sat on a shelf jutting out from the cracked wall.

Hunter walked over to the table wondering how it had gotten into such a mess.

Nic gave a sharp nod. "Good! While you do that, I'll clean up the mess you made with your underground traps… and the one Chewy is sure to have left on his owner’s grave by now."

Hunter began to voice his remorse, but Nic swiftly closed the door and locked it.

The conch shell horn blared for the fourth and final time.

High tide was approaching, and soon the island would be cut off from the mainland. Hunter ran to the window and stared out, his mind racing. He was no stranger to challenges, but his current predicament was daunting.

He gazed at the land bridge, water surging over the rocky barrier as the angry sea raged on.

Getting out of this room wasn't the issue. Escaping the island was.

Hunter had an idea—one that just might work.