Even without tapping into much Kyyr, Mera was surprisingly strong for someone her size. Her delicate, almost dainty demeanor stood in stark contrast to the ease with which she carried Ryan through the forest.

Outside of occasionally feeding Mera water, Ryan stayed silent, the sharp, bone-deep pain of his wound gnawing at him. He kept close watch of his crystalcomm, his finger hovering over the only contact available—Vizor. He debated calling, but there was a chance it would only make things worse. Instead, he focused on guiding Mera through the abyssal forest as best he could.

As the sun dipped lower, the shadows thickened, stretching across the forest like creeping tendrils. The faint pink glow of the blossoms and grass shimmered in the dim light, casting an ethereal hue that only heightened the forest’s alien beauty. Yet, with each passing moment, the abyssal condensation grew heavier, clinging to them like a second skin.

Mera’s pace slowed, and with great care, she laid Ryan down on the soft pink grass. She leaned forward, her breaths coming in exhausted gasps.

“How much time do we have left?” she asked, her voice strained.

Ryan checked the crystalcomm. 1838 (6:38 PM). “We’ve got about two hours before it’s completely dark,” he muttered weakly.

He hesitated for a moment, then asked, “How are you holding up?”

Mera blinked, caught off guard by the rare flicker of concern in his voice.

“I’m alright… just a little worn down,” Mera replied shyly, a soft blush warming her cheeks.

Ryan sighed, his voice low and dry. “Mera, why did you save me?”

Mera looked up, caught off guard by the question. She paused, her expression softening. "Because you matter to me.”

Ryan tilted his head, frowning slightly. “I know this is a bad time, but... why do you even care about me? ”

Mera leaned in a little closer, her voice tender. “ You were there for me... Even if I talked too much or if I annoyed you—you never got mad. You never shouted. You just listened.” She gave him a small, sad smile. “It might sound stupid to you, but... I was happy. I wasn’t alone anymore.”

Ryan’s eyes widened, and a weak smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Man, am I glad I stuck around to hear all your weird stories,” he murmured, his voice light but sincere.

He glanced down at his amputated leg, his smile faltering just slightly. After a brief pause, he whispered, “Thank you for getting me out of there. While I was asleep, I felt something watching me.” He shuddered. “It was terrible.”

The two rested for a while, rationing their food and water as they prepared to continue their journey through the forest. Above them, the sky shifted into a warm golden hue, with beams of light filtering through the blossom tops, dancing gently across the soft pink grass.

Slowly adjusting their path, weaving through the pink grass and glowing blossoms, the forest began to thin, giving way to scattered boulders and patches of bare earth. The vibrant canopy overhead broke apart, allowing more sunlight to trickle down in golden beams that cast flickering patterns on the uneven ground.

In the distance, the terrain shifted dramatically. A rock wall loomed into view, jagged, its surface streaked with veins of dark minerals and patches of moss that glowed faintly under the fading light. The wall stood tall and unyielding, cutting sharply against the sky like a scar carved into the forest. Wind swept through the open space, carrying with it a faint chill that hinted at the coming night.

“We’re so close!” Mera shouted in excitement as they reached the steep wall of the cliff.

She carefully set Ryan against the rock wall, his body slumping slightly. “Now what?” she asked.

Ryan grunted, trying to gather his thoughts. “Ugh—right. Uh… do you remember approximately where the monolith was, compared to where we made landfall?”

Mera furrowed her brow, thinking back. “Uhh… it was a little to the left, right?”

Ryan gave her a weak smile, the pale tone of his skin making it look almost ghostly. “Correct. Just climb a tree and use that memory as a reference point.”

Mera’s eyes drifted to his injured leg, her stomach twisting. His skin was sickly pale, with dark circles forming under his eyes. The stump looked worse than before—the blackened, burnt flesh had begun to ooze a strange slime.

She grimaced at the sight, fighting back a wave of unease. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he answered with a tired smile.

Mera was exhausted, and the climb up the crooked tree proved more difficult than she’d hoped. Its coarse bark scraped against her hands, studded with sharp bumps that bit into her skin. Every pull upward made her muscles ache, but she pushed through, determined to reach a decent vantage point.

Finally, perched high enough to see over the treetops, Mera scanned the golden horizon. The sky glowed with a soft amber light, stretching across the forest like a dream. In the distance, her gaze landed on the ominous black vessel, a dark blot against the beauty of the landscape. Surrounding it were clusters of stunning, glassy water bubbles, shimmering like liquid gold in the fading sunlight.

She narrowed her eyes, tracing their path in her mind. It’s too far to the right… but not by much. A sigh of relief escaped her—at least it’s close enough.

“Ryan! The ship is to our right,” she called out as she descended, expecting a response.

But no one answered.

“Ryan?” she called again, her heart tightening. She dropped the last few feet to the ground and turned toward the rock wall, where Ryan was slumped exactly as she’d left him.

Panic welled up inside her as she rushed over, grabbing him by the shoulder. She leaned in close, her heart pounding—until she heard the soft, shallow sound of his breath.

She let out a long breath of relief, wiping her forehead. He was unconscious but alive.

Carefully, she gathered him up in her arms, cradling his weight against her. Making sure not to wake him, she adjusted her grip and set off along the cliffside, her steps steady despite the ache in her muscles.

It didn’t take long for Mera to find the familiar path they had taken down earlier. With Ryan carefully secured on her back, she began the slow, steady climb up the trail. Her muscles burned with fatigue, but relief washed over her as they gradually rose above the treetops, leaving the eerie pink glow of the forest beneath them.

The sun hovered low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the landscape. Its warm, golden light bathed everything in a soft glow, making the forest below look deceptively serene. As the warm tones spread across the sky, the shifting hues revealed something fragile and haunting—the shattered sky.

It was faint, barely visible, but unmistakably there. Mera’s crimson-pink eyes traced the jagged lines cutting across the heavens, where soft blues and oranges bled into each other like watercolor. It shimmered subtly, like a crack through glass too perfect to repair, a quiet reminder of the broken world they lived in.

The lowglider was there—untouched. Relief swelled in Mera’s chest, but it quickly faded as she scanned the area for any sign of Anneli but there was nothing.

With a sigh, Mera carefully lowered the sleeping Ryan to the ground. She climbed onto the lowglider, her boots clinking softly against the metal surface. Lowering the small ramp at the back, she hopped down again, using it to carefully maneuver Ryan onto the vehicle.

Once he was secured, she opened a hidden compartment under a seat, rummaging inside until her hands found what she was looking for—a medical kit. She pried it open, and almost immediately, a small medical mechanoid buzzed to life.

The tiny machine flew in a quick arc, scanning both Mera and Ryan with rapid flickers of light. As it reached Ryan’s injured leg, the mechanoid's colors shifted into chaotic bursts of red and yellow. It fluttered anxiously, circling the wound as if trying to process the extent of the damage.

Mera watched intently as the mechanoid sprang into action. With a series of soft clicks and metallic whirs, the mechanoid unfolded parts of its container, expanding it outward like puzzle pieces fitting into place. In moments, the container transformed into a microroom, a small sterile enclosure that fit snugly over Ryan’s leg.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The mechanoid buzzed around the edges, sealing the room with quiet precision. Mera exhaled, her body sagging slightly from exhaustion as she watched it work.

Mera allowed herself a brief moment to relax, her body sagging slightly from the strain. But the reprieve was short-lived. She reached into her pack and pulled out the bioreader, her fingers trembling slightly as she powered it on. The screen flickered to life, displaying the vitals of everyone in their group.

Her stomach sank as she scanned the results. Tom’s heart rate was alarmingly high—238 bpm.

“What the hell…” she muttered, stunned. She quickly switched to Ka’lou’s vitals—215 bpm. Just as bad.

Her hands moved quickly, scrolling through the list. Ryan’s heart rate was dangerously low at 42 bpm, making her stomach twist with anxiety. She checked her own—67 bpm—normal, given the circumstances. Then she saw the name she had been dreading: Anneli.

Her breath caught. 88 bpm.

Mera’s eyes widened. She’s alive! Relief surged through her chest. Compared to Tom and Ka’lou’s erratic readings, Anneli’s vitals seemed relatively normal. It meant she still had a chance.

But the bioreader revealed something else—Anneli was still within range. A sinking realization set in. If she hadn’t made it back to base yet, she was still out here... somewhere in the forest.

Mera got up and jumped out of the lowglider’s lower deck. She jogged to the cliff’s edge just in time to watch the sun melt behind the horizon, casting the land in fading gold.

An eerie chill washed over her, sending shivers crawling down her spine. Above, the crimson-red sky brightened as the grand fracture of the Shattering illuminated the land below. The celestial wound stretched endlessly across the heavens, a broken seam that had never healed, bathing everything beneath it in an oppressive red gloom.

High above, the crescent moon hung like a sinister smile, its soft crimson glow blending seamlessly with the fracture's eerie light. Together, they cast the landscape in a haunting palette—red as blood and soft pinks that glowed like embers beneath ash. Swirls of abyssal miasma drifted lazily through the air, coiling like ghostly tendrils as they curled up and around the shimmering floating lakes. The waters within the bubbles reflected distorted fragments of the fractured sky, rippling faintly with every breath of wind.

Mera stood silently, lost in the endless crimson scape. The soft glow of the fractured sky stretched across her gaze, wrapping her in a strange stillness. Staring into the jagged expanse above, she saw more than just cracks—she saw a twisting sea of emotion unraveling within it, as if the sky itself mourned something long lost. Her crimson-pink eyes mirrored the bleeding sky, catching fragments of its sorrow, anger, and resignation. It was as though the fracture was alive—a scar that had been torn open, never allowed to heal, and now bled its anguish over the land below.

Mera found herself momentarily lost in the haunting beauty of the view, her thoughts drifting as the fractured sky shimmered above. A sudden, chilling breeze snapped her back to reality, sending goosebumps across her skin. With a tired sigh, she checked the time—2034 (8:24 PM).

Her gaze shifted downward into the forest, scanning for any hint of movement or light breaking through the shadows. But there was nothing—only the same, unchanging pink glow radiating softly from the strange flora below, as if the forest was trapped in an endless twilight.

She hoped, just for a moment, to see some sign of life in the distance. But the forest gave her nothing. A knot of concern tightened in her chest as she glanced at the bioreader. She drew a weary breath when she saw the readings: Ka’lou and Tom’s vitals had flatlined.

She felt an odd sense of relief knowing they weren’t tied to those strange cocoons anymore. She stared at the screen a moment longer, her eyes lingering on Tom’s name. She hadn’t known him well, not really. But every now and then, he’d humor her stories with a quiet patience she’d grown to appreciate.

With a sigh, she activated her Kyyr Retina, hoping for a glimpse of their souls drifting through the night. But the forest was vast, and the distance was too great. Even with enhanced vision, she saw only the forest’s eerie glow, stretching endlessly into the darkness.

She looked down in disappointment, but her eyes flared open in a dreadful focus. Staring just beneath the cliff, she spotted three souls—but something was wrong. Their shapes were all wrong.

Thick black edges warped around the forms, twisting into grotesque shapes, each soul curled into the semblance of a heart, accentuated by a faint pink glow at its core. Mera’s breath caught in her throat.

Those were not human souls.

“Rak’da,” she whispered under her breath, dread creeping into her voice.

Rushing back to the lowglider, Mera hurried to check on the little mechanoid’s progress with Ryan. She knocked on the small door of the makeshift medical pod, anxiously waiting for a response. The microroom’s screen lit up with a red do not disturb sign.

“How much longer?” Mera pleaded, her voice laced with desperation.

“Ugh!” Mera groaned, frustration bubbling inside her. She spun on her heel and sprinted back toward the ledge. Peering down into the forest below, her heart skipped a beat.

The Rak’da souls were moving—warped and pulsating as they floated ominously through the haze, drawing closer to the cliff wall.

As she watched the encroaching Rak’da, Mera noticed the soft, rhythmic pulse of the forest’s light. The glow ebbed and flowed like breath, expanding and contracting, each pulse growing brighter and brighter until the intensity forced her to shield her eyes.

She winced as she pulled away, but a sudden, violent surge of abyssal condensation rippled through the air, thick and oppressive. Without warning, the entire forest erupted with energy. A vile aurora blossomed from its depths, twisting upward like blooming tendrils of smoke, streaked with bursts of abyssal lightning and shimmering Kyyr energy.

The sky above ignited in a storm of darkness and color. Mera stumbled backward, her heart racing, as a dense wall of black haze rose from the forest floor, blotting out the crimson glow of the fracture above.

The night pulsed violently—flashes of brilliant light followed by complete darkness, strobing in chaotic bursts. The booming of thunder reverberated across the cliffside as the forest below crackled with unstable energy, each pulse sending a wave of dread through Mera’s chest.

Mera squeezed her eyes shut and scrambled toward the lowglider, every instinct screaming at her to leave now. The lowglider’s hum was barely audible beneath the violent thunder overhead. The air thickened, and the world became a surreal blur—an unnatural storm raging both above and below.

The chaotic light surged faster and faster, flickering like a broken machine…

And then—everything stopped.

Darkness followed by a deafening silence.

Mera fumbled frantically with the lowglider’s controls, her hands trembling. Finally, the lights flickered on—only for her heart to plummet.

Not far from the side of the lowglider, the jaws of a Rak’da gaped wide, teeth gleaming under the faint light.

“Shit!” Mera slammed her foot down on the pedal.

The Rak’da roared, lunging forward just as the lowglider jerked to life. Its maw snapped shut with terrifying force, barely missing her by a hair’s breath, but not before tearing a chunk from the vessel’s side.

Mera screamed, gripping the wheel tighter as the Rak’da’s roar echoed through the night, vibrating like a twisted howl. Above her, the abyssal storm flared back to life, bolts of eerie lightning crackling across the sky in jagged bursts. The lowglider shuddered as she yanked the wheel, swerving sharply to escape the forest line.

Behind her, the Rak’da’s scales began to hum and rattle, vibrating with a horrific intensity under the night sky. The sound hit Mera like a physical blow—a deafening, bone-rattling blast that slammed into her chest.

Her head snapped forward, colliding with the wheel as the lowglider lurched. Pain flared in her skull, but she gritted her teeth, gripping the wheel with desperate strength.

Under the thundering pink aurora of the night sky, Mera caught sight of the warped shadows of three Rak’da moving through the gloom. One of them immediately stood out—its body rippling with rattling scales that vibrated ominously as it roared into the sky, the sound reverberating like a weaponized scream.

The other two Rak’da flanked it, smaller in size but no less menacing. They lacked the same grotesque mutation the larger one bore, their forms slightly leaner. The shifting shadows cut into their features, masking them, but the brief glimpses Mera caught hinted at dragon-like shapes, twisted and stretched unnaturally by the abyss.

As they moved closer, Mera felt the heavy pull of dread tighten around her. The creatures had entered the range of her Kyyr Retina, and the sight made her stomach churn. Their bodies weren’t just corrupted—they were filled with something else's Kyyr, swirling and pulsating like a storm trapped beneath their scales.

A shudder ran through her. These weren’t just Rak’da—they were something far worse. Something evil.

Turning the lowglider sharply, Mera slammed her foot down on the pedal, launching into the darkness. Fear clawed at her mind, drowning her thoughts as the vehicle skidded and swerved through the valleys of the Ordovis coast. She ran like prey, instinct guiding her as the lowglider's engine roared, barely keeping pace with her desperation.

Her only saving grace was the floating blades beneath the lowglider, gliding smoothly over the jagged terrain she barreled into. Every bump and dip in the land blurred beneath her as the blades skimmed over rocks and uneven ground, sparing her from what would have been a deadly crash.

She didn’t dare look back—didn’t dare blink. The only thing that mattered was distance. As far from the forest as possible.

The horizon behind her bled into shades of pink, the glow from the forest dimming as night crept across the valleys like a shroud. It was as if the light itself recoiled from the abyssal storm now churning behind her, the flickering sky fading back into a crimson gloom.

But it wasn’t far enough. No matter how fast she flew, that presence clung to her senses like a dark fog, heavy and suffocating. It pulsed through her Kyyr receptors, each wave coiling tighter in her gut, a sickness that gnawed at her from the inside. Every instinct screamed to get away faster, but even at full throttle, the lowglider felt painfully slow, as if the presence’s grasp was just behind her, breathing down on her nape.

Mera leaned into the acceleration, forcing the lowglider to its absolute limit. The hum of the engine buzzed beneath her, shaking her bones as she fought the overwhelming urge to glance over her shoulder—because even out of sight, she could still feel it.