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CHAPTER ONE: THE DROP
Day 1
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The sky was bleeding.
Not in the poetic sense. Not like a sunset. It bled—ribbons of rust-colored cloud slashed across a bruised horizon. The kind of sky that warned of storms, war, or worse.
Silas hit the ground hard. His pod cracked open with a hiss, steam pouring from its seams. The restraints loosened, but too late—he was already falling out, knees slamming into the black, glass-slick ground.
The taste of metal hit him instantly. The air was thick and hot, like it had been exhaled from a dying furnace. It carried the scent of burning iron, bone dust, and something older. Something that made his Fragment twitch.
He coughed. Spat black phlegm onto the ash.
Then lay still.
> Where am I?
The memory came slowly.
A white room. Cold light. The voice of an Administrator echoing from a monitor. That strange synthetic calm.
> "Candidate: Silas Ward. Trial Authorization confirmed. Welcome to Hollowforge."
> "Survive the Trial. Secure your Remnant. Forge the Bond."
> "Begin."
Then the countdown. Then nothing.
He sat up slowly. His ribs ached. The world swam. His vision sharpened in painful increments—first the horizon, then the wreckage around him, then the bodies.
Two other pods nearby.
One completely shattered. No sign of its occupant. The other was sealed—but cracked. Blood painted the glass from inside.
No movement.
Silas forced himself to his feet. His body screamed in protest. His arms trembled.
> You're alive. For now.
A soft hiss caught his attention. Another pod further off opened with a sigh. A figure stumbled out—shorter, limping, one hand pressed to their ribs.
Silas tensed.
The figure blinked up at him, grinned through bloodstained teeth, and coughed.
"I'm alive," they muttered. "Huh. Must've been a glitch in the system."
He stared at the stranger. Wiry build, skin dusted with soot, dark undercut hair. A jagged scar ran from the corner of their lip to their chin.
"Name's Grin," the boy added. "Don't ask if it's real. I won't answer."
Silas didn't speak. His instincts weren't sure yet. His Fragment whispered, but not loud enough to understand.
"Right. You're the silent type," Grin said. "Cool. I'll be the talking kind, then."
A groan pulled their attention sideways. Another pod. Intact. The hatch opened slowly—and a girl stumbled out.
She looked... wrong. Thin. Waxy pale. Her eyes were glassy, but alert. Blood clung to her nostrils. She moved like she was used to pain.
"Name?" Grin asked.
"Nira," she rasped. "Don't talk."
Grin snorted. "Alright. No one's friendly in hell. Got it."
Silas watched the horizon shift.
Ash drifted across scorched plains. The terrain was cracked and unnatural—like the ground had once lived and died screaming. Strange spires of bone jutted from the earth like broken teeth. Above them, something flew in jagged circles—far too large to be a bird.
Silas's skin crawled. His Fragment shifted.
"Something's wrong," he murmured.
Nira looked up at him. Her eyes narrowed. "You felt it too."
"I've felt it since I woke up," he said. "Like... something is watching."
---
A shadow broke the horizon.
It walked on too many limbs.
Silas froze. Nira cursed softly. Grin stared, wide-eyed.
It moved fast. Not toward them. Just across the open ground. Searching.
> Echo.
They ducked behind the wreckage just in time.
It passed within meters. Tall. Thin. Its head split like a flower opening, revealing rows of jagged, clicking teeth. It didn't speak. It just breathed—and the air around it warped.
They waited. Silas counted each second.
Eventually, it moved on.
When he stood again, another figure was approaching—cautiously, hands raised.
She moved like a soldier.
Senya.
Tall, lean, dark hair tied back. Eyes sharp as glass. She didn't glance at the corpse of a trainee behind her—just stepped over it like she had somewhere more important to be.
"That's four," she said. "Were there six drops?"
"Should've been," Grin muttered. "One didn't wake. One's... yeah, over there. Chest like a soup bowl."
Senya nodded once. She looked over each of them.
"Silas," he said.
"Nira," she added.
"Grin," he grinned.
"Senya."
Then she turned back to Silas.
"Leadership?"
He hesitated. Then said, "Shared. You're sharper. I see things."
"Good. No room for ego."
"We're a team now?" Grin asked.
"No," Senya replied. "We're alive. That's the closest we get."
They moved.
---
They found a bunker entrance buried under a field of broken glass. The air shimmered around it—Residual Riftlight. Dangerous, unstable, unpredictable.
Nira triggered the door. A soft hiss of ancient hydraulics, and the panel gave way.
Inside, the air was colder. Stale. But breathable.
They sealed it behind them.
Grin collapsed against the wall. "So. What now? We wait? Build a fire? Sing songs?"
"We recover," Senya said. "Then we scout. Hollowforge doesn't leave things alone for long."
Silas sat quietly. The ache in his chest was growing.
He closed his eyes—and felt something shift.
A memory, but not his own.
A voice inside his head.
> Find me.
---
The dream came sharp and sudden.
He stood in a place of mirrors.
Each reflection was wrong. A version of himself twisted in some subtle way. One had claws. One had wings. One was faceless.
The last one smiled—and whispered, "You already chose."
Silas turned away.
When he awoke, the bunker lights were pulsing red.
Emergency power.
Senya stood near the door, rifle drawn.
"Something's near."
"Echo?" Nira asked, rising fast.
"No," Senya said softly. "Something worse."