They stood there for a second too long.
The sprout loomed in the distance, no longer just there—it was closer now, close enough that its shape shifted against the skyline with every heavy step.
Each impact sent a low roll through the ground beneath their boots, deep enough to feel in the chest before it reached the ears—DOOOM~.
Starboy broke first.
He sucked in a breath and turned halfway toward them, hovering just above the cracked street. "So," he said quickly, words pushed out between breaths, "are we actually gonna take that thing on?"
There was no bravado in it. No grin. His eyes kept cutting back toward the structure even as he spoke, like he expected it to surge forward mid-sentence.
How couldn't he?
They'd barely managed a single vine. The sprout carried several—thick, coiled masses wrapped into its body like limbs waiting to be thrown.
