The grub rose again. It wasn’t quick at all but it didn’t need speed. It had weight, and weight was power. Its pale segmented body compressed against the ridge, rings swelling outward as it forced itself upward inch by inch. The stone beneath it groaned like it was about to split. Mud poured down the slope in thick streams, carrying snapped roots and crushed leaves. The survivors backed up instinctively. They had all felt it. Something strange was happening.

  Wrighty stood near the ridge edge, staff clenched in his hand so tightly his fingers ached. His shoulder burned from his last strike, and his arm trembled whenever he tried to lift the bo staff again. He payed it no mind and smiled.

  Pain was irrelevant. He stared at the grub’s mouth, wide and grinding, and his stomach twisted.

  Doc was inside that. Somewhere in that rot. The thought made Wrighty feel sick in a way fear never could. His friend could be dead and he has no way to know if he was alive.

  Snow stepped up beside him again, she raised a bow a fellow survivor had tossed her. Her hands were steadier now. She was still freezing, but she was able to focus in and drown the cold she felt out. Her eyes narrowed, locked on the creature’s mouth like she was trying to find the boy through the darkness. She loosed another arrow.

  It vanished. Yet again. Snow hissed and reached for another.

  “Stop wasting arrows,” Sheath growled from in front of them.

  His voice was hoarse. His pride was still there, but it had changed. He was desperate. Sheath’s sword shimmered faintly in his grip, ethereal and sharp-looking, yet useless against those teeth as long as he was too weak to use it properly. His arms shook slightly as he held it. Wrighty noticed it, and it unsettled him.

  If Sheath was shaking… Then this was truly hopeless.

  Gravel stepped forward, breathing hard. Dirt streaked his face, sweat running down his neck. His eyes were hard, scanning the ridge like he was counting bodies again and again, trying to figure out how many they could lose before they were finished.

  “Keep your distance!” Gravel barked. “It wants to attack soon!”

  A survivor shouted back, voice cracking. “How do you know?!”

  Gravel didn’t answer. Because he didn’t. He was guessing. They were all guessing.

  Five stood further back with Shiela, one hand gripping her shoulder, steadying her. Shiela’s face was pale. Her breathing was shallow. Her hands hovered in front of her chest, trembling as hexagonal fragments flickered around her palms like broken glass trying to hold its shape. She looked like she was about to collapse.

  Five leaned close and said something low. Wrighty couldn’t hear it, but Shiela nodded once, swallowing hard like she was forcing herself not to cry.

  Eerie was still there too. Leaning against a rock—Watching—observing the fight like it was entertainment.

  Wrighty hated him for that. Hated him more than he hated the grub. At least the grub was honest. It didn’t pretend to be human. Then the ridge shook again.

  A heavy tremor. The grub’s body pulsed. The grinding plates inside slowed—not stopping, but slowing. The noise shifted from a shriek to a deep grinding rumble, like a mill turning slowly.

  The smell pouring out changed too. It was not its usual smell of rot and decay. It was the smell of chemicals, of burning

  Wrighty’s nose stung. Snow rubbed her eyes as the air began to sting. Gravel’s expression twisted as he watched closely.

  “No,” Gravel muttered.

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  The grub’s throat expanded. Its flesh rippling in a disgusting manner. Something moved inside it. Liquid flowed towards its massive mouth. Wrighty’s breath caught.

  “BACK!” Gravel roared. “BACK NOW!”

  The survivors hesitated—just a second too long. Then the grub convulsed and vomited.

  A torrent of thick yellow-green acid exploded from its mouth like a waterfall. It sprayed outward in an arc, hissing as it hit the ridge. The liquid sizzled on contact with stone, bubbling violently like as though the rock was melting.

  A survivor screamed. The acid splashed across his leg. His flesh dissolved instantly. He collapsed, clawing at himself, screaming so hard his throat tore. The smell of burning meat filled the air. His screams lasted three seconds before his voice became nothing but choking as more liquid surrounded him.

  Wrighty’s stomach dropped.

  “MOVE!” Wrighty shouted, grabbing Snow’s shoulder and yanking her backward. The acid splashed again, hitting the ridge edge. A chunk of the ridge melted into a bubbling crater. The survivors scrambled back, slipping and stumbling over each other. Panic erupted again—not the wild panic of running, but the panic of being cornered. There was nowhere to go except further up the ridge, and the ridge wasn’t endless. Shiela screamed as acid splattered near her. Five reacted instantly. He grabbed her under the arms and dragged her backward across the stone, pulling her away from the spray. His boots slipped on the wet rock, but he didn’t fall. His jaw clenched. His eyes stayed cold and focused.

  “SHIELA!” Gravel shouted. “NOW!”

  Shiela’s hands snapped upward. Hexagonal shields exploded outward in front of her, brighter than ever before. Not a full wall—more like a half-formed dome, trembling and unstable, but real. The acid hit it—And for a moment, the shield held. The liquid hissed against the barrier, sliding off in streams like rain hitting glass.

  Shiela’s face contorted. Her hands were shaking violently. Her shield flickered. Wrighty saw her teeth grit as if she was biting through her own cheek.

  “I CAN’T—” Shiela gasped.

  “Yes you can,” Five said sharply, his voice low. “You can, keep trying.”

  The shield cracked. Acid splashed through a gap. A survivor behind them screamed as it hit his arm. His flesh melted. His arm dropped off like wet clay. He collapsed instantly, shrieking. The shield collapsed fully a second later. Shiela fell forward, coughing, shaking, blood dripping from her face. Five caught her again, pulling her upright. “Breathe,” he ordered. Shiela sobbed once, quietly, shame filled her voice.

  Gravel turned back toward the ridge edge, eyes wild. The grub had stopped vomiting, but its mouth was still open, dripping acid in thick ropes. The liquid splattered onto the slope below, dissolving plants and turning the jungle floor into bubbling pits. The creature’s grinding plates started spinning faster again. It was preparing to climb.Once again.

  Sheath screamed, rage flaring like madness.

  “YOU THINK YOU’RE SMART?!” Sheath roared.

  He charged forward again, sword raised, leaping toward the grub’s face and avoiding the acid like he could carve his way into victory.

  Wrighty’s eyes widened.

  “Sheath, STOP—!”

  Sheath swung with all his might.

  The sword struck the creature’s teeth again.

  The blade sliced through one teeth before Sheath’s body slammed into the creature’s mouth edge and he tumbled backward, barely catching himself before falling into the acid-soaked slope below.

  He landed hard, coughing, his sword still in his grip. He stared at the grub. His eyes were full of hate—and fear. Helplessness consumed his emotions.

  Gravel threw another arrow. It pierced the creature’s flesh again, deeper this time. The grub roared and thrashed, its massive head jerking sideways. But this time it barely even budged and shrugged it off.

  Wrighty understood that they were barely hurting it. They were like annoying fleas on a dog

  The grub’s body pulsed again as Wrighty thought about his friend. Wrighty’s voice cracked as he muttered, almost to himself.

  “Please don’t be dead…”

  Snow heard him. She glanced at him, eyes sharp.

  “He’s alive,” Snow said.

  Wrighty looked at her confused. Snow’s hands trembled as she pulled another arrow.

  “I don’t know why,” she whispered. “But I feel like he’s alive.”

  Wrighty swallowed hard. I hope. Then the grub surged upward again with its mouth gaped open. Acid dripped down its teeth. And the grinding plates spun like a sawmill.

  Gravel’s voice rang out over the chaos.

  “WE CAN’T HOLD THIS FOREVER!”

  Five stepped forward, eyes narrowed.

  “Then we don’t,” Five said simply.. Gravel looked at him.

  Five’s gaze flicked toward the grub’s mouth. Toward the pitch dark emptiness.

  “We hold until he does something,” Five said. The survivors stared at him like he was insane.

  Shiela coughed, wiping blood from her chin.

  “I hope he’s okay.” she whispered.

  Wrighty’s grip tightened around his staff. His eyes burned. His voice came out low and shaking.

  “He better hurry. He is all we have got.”

  And deep inside the creature, something shifted violently—like the grub had been stabbed from within. Wrighty’s eyes widened. Snow’s breath caught. Gravel froze. The grub had hesitated—Just for a second. Like something inside it was fighting back.

  ---

  And far beneath the ridge, deep inside the beast’s stomach, the acid continued to rise. And the boy had no time left.