I pack.
I’m getting the fuck out of here at the earliest stealthy opportunity. .
CHAPTER 26
MAUG
It starts with a sound I almost don’t notice.
High. Thin. Just under the threshold of hearing—like pressure shifting through stone, or wind crawling sideways through canyon cracks. At first, I dismiss it. Purgonis tectonics always groan after heavy rain. The crust breathes, splits, resettles. That’s normal.
But this? This doesn’t shift.
It pulses.
Steady. Subtle. Like breath drawn through invisible lungs.
And it’s not coming from the rocks.
It’s coming fromeverywhere.
I press my palm to the canyon wall. Feel nothing. No tremor, no strain. But the sound still lingers. Not a sound, exactly—a frequency. Something just under the skin of silence. My ears twitch, adjusting instinctively. There’s no known register for it, no natural cycle.
It's wrong.
I rise from my crouch, stretch to full height. The sky’s starting to bleed with dust-light, the kind that rolls in before a sandstorm. I’ve seen enough to know a full bloom is coming—red air, sharp winds, and grit so thick it burns the nose. But this noise? Thisthing?
It doesn’t come with the wind.
It breathes beneath it.
I narrow my eyes toward the edge of the basin.
Movement.
Someone walking—slow, barefoot, deliberate. Clothes half-wrapped, not suited for a storm. No helmet, no mask. Just skin and vulnerability and... humming.
The human is humming.
A girl. One of the younger ones. I think her name is Hara or Halen—she’s usually with Ciampa during water detail. But now she’s alone. Smile slack, steps loose, like a puppet with invisible strings.
I don’t intervene.
But I follow.
From a distance.
She climbs the ridge on the west side of camp, the path that leads into the badlands. It’s a death march, that trail—too exposed, too dry. The sand up there moves like it’s alive, churning under even light footsteps. But she walks it like she’s being called. No hesitation. No pause.
Just that steady hum. No tune, no rhythm. Just noise.
She reaches the top and sits, legs crossed, back straight, eyes fixed into the oncoming storm. The sky is roiling now, thick with sand and static.
And she just waits.
No covering.
No protection.
