The sirens didn't wail. There was no dramatic announcement. Just a quiet knock on each dormitory door at dawn, followed by a single sentence:
"Report to the Gate. It's time."
The 12 Offerings gathered in the central courtyard, the sky still painted in pre-dawn hues of violet and gray. They stood in a loose formation, some adjusting their gear nervously, others trying to look braver than they felt.
Mallory stood near the front, her crossbow slung across her back, the familiar weight grounding her. She had refused the Council's offer of a new weapon.
The crossbow had been with her since the first time she stepped outside the Walls. It had saved her life more times than she could count. She wasn't about to trade it for something shiny and unfamiliar.
The others, though, were outfitted with sleek, custom-forged weapons—each tailored to their abilities.
Dread now carried a pair of black-forged swords with vibration-sensitive hilts, designed to amplify his enhanced sense of feel. The blades were lighter, faster, and deadly quiet.
Lynx had received a set of curved daggers with sound-dampening grips and a modular sheath system that allowed her to draw them silently. Her boots were reinforced for agility, and her earpiece could isolate frequencies to help her track even the faintest Hollow movement.
Ashe, ever the showman, had been given a massive battle axe with a reinforced carbon-steel head and a shock-absorbing handle. It was heavy, brutal, and perfect for someone with his strength. He swung it over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.
"Now this," he grinned, "is a proper hello to the apocalypse."
The other Offerings had their own gear—ranged weapons, spears, electrified batons, and even a few experimental devices the Council hadn't explained. But none of them looked as comfortable as Mallory did.
She wasn't nervous.
She was ready.
The Gate loomed ahead—three stories tall, reinforced with steel and concrete, its surface scarred from years of Hollow attacks. The guards flanked it in silence, their faces hidden behind visors. One of them stepped forward and handed a sealed envelope to each Offering.
"Mission parameters. Do not open until you're outside."
Mallory tucked hers into her jacket. She already knew what it would say: Find the source. Secure the cure. Survive.
The Gate began to open with a deep, mechanical groan. Beyond it, the world stretched out in a wasteland of twisted trees, broken highways, and silence. The kind of silence that pressed against your ears and made your heartbeat feel too loud.
The others hesitated.
Mallory didn't.
She stepped through first, boots crunching on gravel, crossbow ready. The air outside was colder, sharper. It smelled of rust, earth, and something faintly sour—the lingering scent of the Hollows.
Dread followed next, his swords drawn but held low. Lynx moved beside him, eyes scanning the treeline. Ashe brought up the rear, whistling a tune that didn't match the mood at all.
The rest of the Offerings followed, slower, more cautious. Some looked back at the Wall. Mallory didn't.
She'd seen what was out here. She'd survived it.
But this time, she wasn't alone.
They moved in formation, Mallory at point. The terrain shifted from cracked asphalt to overgrown forest paths. The trees were tall and skeletal, their branches clawing at the sky. Every so often, a distant screech echoed through the air—high-pitched and inhuman.
The Hollows were out there. Watching. Waiting.
Ashe broke the silence first.
"So… anyone else feel like we're walking into a horror movie?"
Lynx didn't look at him. "We are."
Dread smirked faintly. "You're the comic relief. You die first."
Ashe laughed. "Joke's on you. I'm too loud to sneak up on."
Mallory allowed herself a small smile. It was strange, hearing laughter out here. But it helped. It reminded her that they were still human.
The forest thickened as the sun climbed higher, casting long, dappled shadows across the moss-covered ground. The 12 Offerings moved in a loose formation, their boots crunching over fallen leaves and broken branches. The silence was heavy, broken only by the occasional distant screech of a Hollow echoing through the trees.
They had been walking for hours.
Mallory led the way, her eyes scanning every ridge, every tree hollow, every unnatural bend in the underbrush. She knew this terrain. She had survived it before. But even now, with a team behind her, the weight of the wilderness pressed in.
"We need to stop," Lynx said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "We're too exposed."
Mallory nodded. "There's an old ranger station about a mile east. It's abandoned, but it's solid. We can rest there. Plan."
No one argued.
The building was a squat, concrete structure half-swallowed by vines and moss. Its windows were shattered, and the roof sagged in places, but the walls held. More importantly, it had only one entrance and a narrow back exit—easy to defend.
Inside, the air was stale with dust and decay, but it was dry. Safe enough.
The Offerings spread out, checking corners, clearing debris, and setting up a perimeter. Ashe dropped his axe with a loud thunk and flopped onto a broken couch.
"Home sweet home," he said, grinning. "I give it three stars. No minibar, but the view's killer."
Lynx rolled her eyes. "Try not to snore. We're trying to stay alive."
Ashe gave her a mock salute. "No promises."
Mallory moved to the far side of the room, checking the windows. Dread followed, silent as always. When she turned, he was already there, watching her.
"You've been out here before," he said quietly.
She nodded. "Twice. First time, I was running. Second time, I was hunting."
Dread leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "You knew exactly where to go. That station. The terrain. You've mapped this in your head."
"I had to," she said. "When you're alone out here, you either learn fast… or you don't come back."
There was a pause. Then Dread looked at her, his voice softer. "I remember seeing you once. Back inside the Walls. You were in the infirmary. Covered in blood. You didn't look scared."
Mallory's gaze dropped. "I was too tired to be scared."
He nodded slowly. "I get that."
She looked up at him. "Your ability… it's not just reflexes, is it?"
Dread hesitated, then held up his hand and tapped two fingers against the wall. "I can feel everything. Vibrations. Movement. Even heartbeats, if I'm close enough. It's like… the world talks to me through pressure."
Mallory tilted her head. "That's how you move like that. You're not reacting. You're predicting."
He gave a small smile. "It's not perfect. But it's kept me alive."
They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of the world outside pressing in. Then Ashe's voice cut through the quiet.
"Alright, team huddle!"
Everyone gathered in the center of the room. One of the older Offerings, a tall girl named Rei, stepped forward. She was calm, practical, and had a scar running from her jaw to her collarbone.
"We need to talk strategy," she said. "Twelve of us moving together is loud. Clumsy. We're a target."
Lynx nodded. "Agreed. We're easier to track in a group."
Rei continued, "We split into three teams of four. Cover more ground. Stay mobile. If one group gets hit, the others can flank or retreat."
Mallory glanced at Dread, Lynx, and Ashe. They were already standing close. Already a unit.
Rei noticed. "You four seem solid. You'll be Team One. I'll take the next group. We'll rotate check-ins every six hours. If anyone misses a check-in, we assume the worst."
No one argued.
The plan was set.
As night began to fall, the Offerings prepared to move out again—this time in smaller, quieter groups. The ranger station would be their last moment of safety for a long time.
Mallory stood at the doorway, crossbow in hand, eyes on the darkening forest.
Dread stepped beside her. "You ready?"
She didn't look at him. "I've been ready since the day I came back."
Behind them, Ashe was humming a tune and sharpening his axe. Lynx was checking her blades, her expression unreadable.
They were going back into the dark.
But this time, they weren't alone.