The march began before dawn. Not because anyone wanted to leave. Because staying had become impossible. The valley was dying.
Aurora looked back one final time as they climbed the northern road. Hollow Vale no longer looked like home. Smoke drifted above broken rooftops. Blue light pulsed from cracks in the earth. Entire streets had vanished. The church tower leaned dangerously. Buildings stood abandoned. The dead had taken the roads. The living hid in whatever shadows remained. The valley looked haunted. Like a place that had already ended.
The sight hurt more than Aurora expected. She had grown up there. Laughed there. Mourned there. Dreamed there. Now it felt like a graveyard pretending to be a town.
"Keep moving." Lucien's voice broke through her thoughts. Aurora frowned. The silver-eyed being had been unusually tense since the fracture appeared. His attention never strayed far from the mountains. Never strayed far from the crack in the sky. He looked like a man racing a clock only he could see.
The road narrowed. Dense forest swallowed the path. Ancient trees stretched overhead. Their branches twisted together. Blocking most of the moonlight. Darkness settled around them. The returned continued ahead. Thousands of pale figures disappearing between the trees. Not speaking. Not slowing. Not looking back.
Aurora hated following them. Every instinct screamed that they were walking directly into a trap. Caelum walked near the front of the procession. Hands behind his back. Looking entirely relaxed. The sight irritated her. The valley collapsed. People died. Reality cracked apart. And somehow he still looked like he was enjoying an evening stroll.
Darian stumbled. Aurora caught him before he fell. Her brother looked terrible. His skin had become pale. Dark circles sat beneath his eyes. Every few minutes he would stare into the trees as though seeing things nobody else could. "You need to stop." Darian shook his head. "No." The answer came immediately. "I'm fine." Aurora gave him a look. Neither of them believed that.
A scream suddenly echoed through the forest. Everyone froze. The sound came from ahead. Somewhere among the returned. A human scream. Raw. Terrified. Then it stopped. Silence followed. The returned kept walking. Like nothing had happened.
Gideon tightened his grip on his weapon. "What was that?" Nobody answered. Then another scream erupted. Closer this time. A man's voice. Followed by desperate shouting. The sound of running feet. Aurora moved immediately. Lucien grabbed her arm. "Wait." She pulled free. "No." The answer came instantly.
The screams came again. Aurora ran. The others followed. Branches whipped against her face. Roots clawed at her boots. The forest seemed determined to slow them. Then she reached a clearing. And stopped.
The scene before her stole her breath. Survivors. At least twenty of them. Families. Children. Old people. They had built a temporary camp among the trees. The remains of campfires still smoldered. Blankets lay scattered across the ground. Food supplies abandoned. The camp looked like it had been attacked moments ago. Blood stained the dirt. Not much. Just enough. Enough to suggest violence. Enough to suggest panic.
But there were no bodies. Aurora immediately noticed. No corpses. No wounded. No dead. Only empty space. The survivors had vanished. The Veil pulsed violently. Warning her. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
A child's toy rested near one of the fires. A wooden horse. Aurora picked it up. The wood was still warm. Someone had been there recently. Very recently. Then she heard it. Laughter. Soft. Distant. Coming from deeper in the woods. The sound immediately raised every hair on her body. Not because it sounded evil. Because it sounded happy. Children laughing. Several of them. Playing. Enjoying themselves. At this hour. In this forest. After everything that had happened.
Aurora slowly turned toward the trees. The laughter continued. Moving between the shadows. Sometimes closer. Sometimes farther away. Never staying in one place. The Veil screamed. Run. The warning hit her so hard she almost dropped the toy. Aurora froze. The Veil had never spoken so clearly.
Then she saw movement. A child stepped between the trees. A little girl. No older than eight. Barefoot. Pale. Smiling. Aurora's stomach dropped. The girl simply stood there. Watching. Then another appeared. Then another. Then another. Children. At least a dozen. All smiling. All silent. All staring. None of them blinked.
The clearing suddenly felt much colder. Elara moved closer to Aurora. "Who are they?" Nobody answered. Because nobody knew. Even Lucien looked disturbed. The children continued watching. One of them tilted his head. Slowly. Like a curious animal. Then he spoke.
The voice that emerged was not a child's voice. It was dozens. Hundreds. Thousands. Layered together. "We remember." The forest fell silent. Even the wind stopped. The children smiled wider. And then every one of them pointed toward the mountains. At exactly the same moment. The gesture was identical. Perfectly synchronized. Unnatural. Terrifying.
Aurora felt her heart hammering. The Veil pulsed. The fracture in the sky brightened. And far beyond the trees a deep groan rolled through the mountains. The sound felt ancient. Like stone grinding against stone. Like something enormous shifting in its sleep.
The children smiled. Then vanished. Not running. Not walking. One moment they were there. The next gone. The clearing stood empty once more. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. The toy horse slipped from Aurora's fingers.
The horror wasn't waiting at the mountain. Aurora suddenly realized something much worse. It was already watching them. And it knew they were coming.