The crooked streets rushed past in a blur under the weight of boots and shortened breaths. the thick but relentless fog that filled this place at night, while screaming snarls chased them. Every twist, crack, and pothole threatened to end them, the warped town seeming made for only one purpose: to slow their escape.

  Caelan led the charge, torn jacket snapping like a tattered flag as he glanced back at the pack of black, wolf-like creatures snapping at them—more now, fog-wrapped shadows with coal-hot eyes, closing fast. Their forms shimmered unnaturally, like smoke given teeth, and the air reeked of wet fur and something metallic, like blood on rusted iron.

  "How did you miss every single shot, Milo? How?" Caelan yelled, Glasgow growl edged with manic laughter as he vaulted a warped bench and nearly went down on the looping cobbles. His legs burned from the sprint, but adrenaline kept him pushing—three days in this hellhole, and already it felt like a lifetime of dodging death.

  Milo, face flushed and pumping his legs, clutched his assault rifle tighter, the mag already empty. Sweat blinded his eyes, and his breath came in ragged, tight gasps.

  "I thought I’d at least hit one of them!" he shouted, half-laughing, half-utter panic, as a loud crunching jaw grazed his heel. The near-miss sent a screaming jolt up his spine; he could feel the heat of the thing's breath, the fog tendrils lashing like whips against his calves.

  Aidan, coming up the rear, threw his brother a murderous glare while keeping his own rifle up. His hands shook slightly, his voice fighting through the tears he was holding back.

  "They hadn’t even noticed us! This is all your fault—Milo's genius, eh?" he yelled, voice cracking as he swatted at a fog tendril lashing out like a whip. The tendril stung like a burn, leaving a red welt on his skin, and he cursed under his breath, glancing back to see the pack splitting—two veering left to flank them.

  Keira, sniper rifle slung over one shoulder, rolled her eyes as she ran, bandaged arm throbbing with each step. The wound from the first wolf still ached, a dull fire under the fabric, but she ignored it, focusing on the path ahead.

  "You’re all idiots—just run!" she shouted, firecracking grin—adrenaline rushing making everything sharper, the fear mixing with a sick, twisted thrill.

  "Says the one who forgot her back-up ammo!" Caelan shot back, words cutting through the snarls like a knife. He dodged a low-hanging sign from a twisted shopfront, the metal creaking ominously as if the town itself was alive and hungry.

  Keira spun on her heel, eyes flashing.

  "What did you think I gave you that thing for? Stop being a bitch and use it to protect your adorable little sister!" She nearly stumbled as a wolf's claw raked the air inches from her back, the fog swirling thicker around it.

  Caelan let out a defeated "Ahhhhh," yanking the katana free as he skidded to a stop on the slick cobbles. The triplets piled up behind him, breathless and wide-eyed, their faces smeared with dirt and sweat. The pack closed in, circling now, low growls vibrating through the ground.

  "Aidan, maybe fire your gun this time!" Caelan shouted, glancing back as Aidan stood there frozen, assault rifle raised but finger locked off the trigger, hands trembling. Aidan's mind raced—memories of the fire flashing, smoke choking him—but he couldn't move, the wolves' eyes locking onto him like prey.

  Keira grabbed her sniper by the barrel, wielding it like a bat, and laughed wildly.

  "Are we actually doing this? Ride or die—let's go!" Her voice echoed off the warped walls, a defiant spark in the gloom.

  One of the wolves pounced straight for Caelan. He smiled, katana gleaming.

  Shit, this is going to be awesome, he thought, the blade humming in his grip.

  The wolf jumped, biting down on the katana with a metallic clang, pushing Caelan back. He staggered, surprise flashing across his face, boots scraping the road.

  "Not awesome. Shit, this thing's hard as nails!" he growled, leaning into the bite as the fog swirled around it like a storm, cold and clinging to his skin.

  Another wolf lunged for Caelan’s face, catching him off guard—but Keira was there in a flash, smacking it mid-air with the butt of her sniper. The monster screamed, falling, as Milo jumped on top of it, pinning it down and trying to bash its fog-shrouded head with the butt of his empty weapon. Keira kept swinging her sniper like a bat, screaming loudly with each impact, her bandaged arm barely keeping it together.

  Aidan stood there shaking, completely frozen, rifle still up but useless, as another wolf slipped past Caelan and headed straight for him. Keira turned just in time to see it and screamed, "AIDAN!"

  But it didn’t snap him out of it. The wolf lunged, jaws wide, clear path to Aidan’s face—just as it went past, Caelan put his back into the sword, cutting through the first wolf’s head in a spray of black mist. He turned instantly, jumping on the third wolf’s back, shoving his arm between Aidan and the monster’s maw. He screamed in pain as the teeth sank in, but plunged his katana into the wolf’s back, killing it instantly.

  The wolves began to break down into golden floating orbs, leaving no trace other than a few small blocks of metal scattered on the ground.

  Caelan looked at his arm and hissed, "Shit on it—not again."

  Aidan snapped out of it, eyes wide.

  "I'm sorry—I'm really sorry. Please let me look at it," he said, rushing over to inspect Caelan’s arm, rifle now slung hastily over his shoulder.

  Keira walked over, smirking.

  "Why are you crying? It healed in like two days last time."

  Caelan shot her a glare.

  "Yes, Keira, because that means it's alright to let it bite me again—how fucking silly of me."

  Milo jogged up, panting, a handful of gleaming metal shards clutched in his fist.

  "What are these weird bits of metal they keep dropping? Think they’re important?"

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  Caelan squinted at the shards.

  "No idea. Maybe they’re for that shop we saw earlier. The one literally called Gun."

  Keira snorted.

  "Yeah, maybe it’s for a vending machine or something."

  Aidan frowned.

  "Think every zone’s got stuff like that? Just… guns and ammo lying around?"

  Caelan shook his head, half a laugh, half a groan.

  "Nah, think this might be special for yous. Jesus, even the goddess knows about Americans and their guns."

  Milo giggled.

  "Well, maybe there’s, like, a proper shop to buy things in. Oh, they might have food. Not that tragic stuff Cael made us for breakfast."

  Aidan shouted back, still pale and shaking.

  "Stop asking dumb questions and get me something to cover this bite... Sis, what are you doing?"

  Caelan turned, confused, as Milo giggled.

  "Knew this would happen." His eyes widened when he saw Keira pointing her sniper at him, aiming dead down the sights.

  "We’ve been over this, haven’t we? I call you big bro, big brother, or bro, and in exchange, you call me little sis or sis. Get it?"

  Caelan, unamused, crossed his arms.

  "Mate, come on—look, I don't mean to sound like a dick, you've known me what, three days now? And I'm more than twice your age. Sorry, it just seems creepy to me. And by the way, you're out of bullets, weren't you?"

  Keira pulled the sniper back, pointing it in the air and pulling the trigger—the gun gave a hollow click, and nothing happened. She dead-eyed Caelan with a smirk.

  "I'm going to the bar to get some sleep. Already sick of today."

  As Keira began to walk off, Caelan shouted after her, "Keira! I'm sorry, bud—" He sighed, rubbing his face.

  "Shit."

  Milo clapped him on the shoulder.

  "I'll talk to her. Hey, sis, wait up—don't go alone!"

  Aidan, still wrapping Caelan's arm with some loose fabric, stammered.

  "I'm, I'm sorry I couldn't help back there. It's just..."

  Caelan put his hand on Aidan's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

  "Don't worry about it, mate. We're still here—well, for now. Come on, that’ll do for now. Need to go make sure Keira's alright." He gave a weak laugh.

  "Think I might need to say sorry. Honestly, no matter how old a woman is, I'll never understand the first thing about them."

  Aidan hesitated, then followed without a word. They left Keira’s victory shouts behind and slipped into the quiet fog of the neighbouring block.

  The silence stretched for half a street. Aidan’s boots scuffed the ground, and his hands were shoved deep in his pockets.

  Finally, he stopped.

  "Just say it," he said, voice low and even. "Tell me I fucked up. Tell me I’m holding them back. I already know."

  Caelan turned, calm.

  "Keep trying, Aidan. I was worse than you at your age. A lot worse. If a screw-up like me can look half-decent to three lunatic fourteen-year-olds, you’ll be running circles round me soon enough."

  Aidan stared at the cracked pavement and started talking, quiet and steady, like he was finally letting something out he’d carried for years.

  "We only ever had each other. No mum, no dad, no clue why they left us. Foster homes every few months, sometimes, if we were lucky, every few years. One family wanted just Keira. We begged her to go. She trashed the place instead and told them to go fuck themselves."

  A small, tired smile.

  "That’s why I love her. That’s why I love both of them so much. They never left me."

  He kept going, voice never rising.

  "No one ever came for us. Last house… they didn’t even pretend to care. Just wanted the cheque. Every night, Keira told us stories about this imaginary big brother who’d show up one day and save us. Kid stuff, you know, but she believed it enough for all three of us. The night of the fire, she still begged him to save us even while the smoke came under the door."

  Aidan finally looked up—eyes tearing up, but steady.

  "I froze back there. I know. And yeah, it pisses me off that she’s already calling you ‘big bro’. Because people always leave. They get bored, or it gets hard, and then it’s just me picking up the pieces of Keira’s heart again. So if you’re gonna walk, do it now."

  He stepped closer, voice low.

  "But if you stay, really stay, you give her everything Milo and I do. Or I swear I’ll kill you myself. Do we understand each other?"

  Caelan didn’t flinch. After a beat, he just smiled, soft and infuriatingly calm.

  "I’m not promising you shit."

  Aidan’s jaw clenched; he grabbed Caelan’s jacket.

  "Then fuck off—"

  Caelan didn’t move.

  "I’m not going anywhere. I just do what I want when I fucking want. And leaving you three alone to terrorise this entire immortal war? That’d be as dumb as fuck."

  Aidan stared, fists still bunched in the fabric. Slowly, the grip loosened. A reluctant half-smile tugged at his mouth.

  "Hope I don’t turn into a cocky asshole like you."

  He snorted, finally starting to relax.

  "I wouldn't be surprised if Keira's blasted a hole in the wall with that idiot Milo cheering her on."

  His laugh trailed off as he glanced at Caelan. The older man wasn't even looking at him—all colour had faded from his face, eyes staring unblinkingly behind Aidan.

  "Aidan," Caelan said, voice low and urgent, "get the others and leave. Do not come back here, no matter what. I need you to do it now."

  Aidan turned slowly, heart slamming as horror clawed up his throat. A man was walking toward them, dragging a woman with long hair by her ankle. He gripped a large knife, blade dripping, his body covered head to toe in blood. A horrifying grin stretched across his face as he stared straight at them.

  The man laughed, raising his free hand into the air.

  "Finally! Finally, more of my subjects—this one has broken. Oh, so there is more than one of you in this zone? All the rest only had one weakling at a time. I guess I can just start again."

  He lunged the knife down into the woman's head with a wet crunch as her body began to break down into golden floating orbs.

  Caelan shoved Aidan out of the way, yanking his sword free.

  "RUN!"

  Caelan didn't wait for Aidan to bolt. He charged, katana whistling through the fog like a promise of violence. The murderer—tall, wiry, with eyes that burned like the wolves' but worse, human and hungry—dropped the woman's dissolving ankle with a wet thud. Golden orbs swirled up from her like fireflies fleeing a fire, but the man just laughed, low and broken, flipping his knife in a casual arc.

  "The goddess chose me, you know," his voice thick, wobbling like he didn’t fully believe his own words. "Back on my world, I fought in her name—bullets and destruction for the divine. And now? I'm the chosen one. Cleared this zone, fodder after fodder. You're just... a bit stronger than average. Lucky piece of shit who doesn't know the meaning of broken yet."

  Caelan moved his sword high, aiming for his neck, as the bastard countered with his knife, metal screeching against one another.

  "Chosen? You need a nuthoose, lad," Caelan growled, dodging the counter-swing that nicked his shoulder. Blood sprayed, hot and sticky, but he pressed in, katana clashing again. The man moved with trained muscle memory—efficient blocks, precise stabs with no hesitation—but Caelan saw the cracks, the wild gleam that said sanity had snapped long ago.

  They circled, fog clinging to the ground. The murderer thrust low; Caelan twisted aside, lining up for a follow-up hit. But as Caelan pushed the attack, the man twisted with surprising speed, his knife slicing up Caelan's arm in a deep gash. Pain surged through his entire arm; the katana slipped from his numb fingers, smacking into the ground. They passed each other in the momentum, shoulders brushing.

  Caelan dropped low on instinct, hitting the cracked pavement and scooping a fistful of loose dirt. He spun around just as the man whirled, knife raised for a downward stab.

  "The goddess blessed me—you'll shatter like the rest!" the man ranted, blade plunging.

  Caelan flung the dirt straight into his eyes. The man howled, staggering, hands clawing at his face.

  "That's Glasgow hospitality, ya prick!" Caelan roared, following up with a vicious punt to the balls. The murderer doubled over, gasping, knife dropping slack.

  No mercy—Caelan grabbed his collar, yanked him close, and smashed his forehead into the man's nose with a crunching Glasgow kiss. Blood sprayed; the murderer crumpled to his knees, dazed and sputtering.

  "Think I'm taking your fucking shite, arsehole," Caelan snarled, eyeing the dropped knife.

  But then—a distant shout pierced the fog. Keira's voice, sharp and fierce:

  "AIDAN!"

  Caelan's head snapped toward the sound.

  The triplets—shite, is it more of them?

  He froze for a split second, heart slamming.

  That was all it took. The murderer surged up with a feral grin, tackling Caelan to the ground. Pain exploded as they hit pavement; the knife flashed, pinning Caelan's arm.

  "Chosen... always wins," the man wheezed, raising the blade high, aimed right for Caelan's face—