Open ground did not stay open for long.
Ashen felt it before the land showed it—an unease creeping through the plateau, not from fear but from anticipation. The ancient sigils beneath their feet dimmed, as if the ground itself were holding its breath.
Lyra slowed beside him.
"You feel it too," she said.
Ashen nodded. "Something's close."
Not approaching.
Circling.
The hunters remained at the edge of the plateau, watching. They didn't interfere. Whatever was coming wasn't theirs to face.
The sky darkened—not with clouds, but with absence. Stars blinked out one by one, swallowed by a spreading void that moved like a living thing.
Lyra's breath hitched.
"That's not a Devourer," she whispered.
Ashen stopped walking.
"No," he agreed. "It's the scout."
The air tore.
Not ripped—peeled.
A vertical seam opened in the sky, edges curling back like burnt paper. From it stepped something that wore a shape only as a courtesy.
Humanoid.
Almost.
Its body was tall and thin, draped in layers of shifting darkness, as if reality refused to settle around it. Its face was smooth and pale, eyes too deep, too patient.
It smiled.
"Ashen Rowan," it said, voice warm and intimate. "You made the Framework blink. That was… impressive."
Lyra instinctively stepped in front of Ashen.
The thing tilted its head.
"Ah. A blood-sworn echo," it said mildly. "How quaint."
Ashen placed a hand on Lyra's shoulder and moved beside her.
"You know my name," Ashen said.
The thing spread its hands.
"We know everything about you," it replied. "Or rather—everything you could have been."
Ashen studied it carefully.
"You're not here to fight."
"No," it agreed. "I'm here to measure."
The hunters stiffened.
The thing's gaze swept the plateau, the ancient sigils, the open sky.
"This world has grown… flexible," it said. "That makes it edible."
Lyra clenched her fists.
"You're a Devourer," she said.
The thing smiled wider.
"One of many," it replied. "But not the kind you think."
Ashen felt the truth click into place.
"You don't consume worlds," he said slowly. "You consume systems."
The Devourer inclined its head.
"Very good," it said. "Laws. Frameworks. Beliefs. Anything that pretends permanence."
Ashen's blood went cold.
"And what happens after?"
The Devourer's eyes darkened.
"Then we eat what's left."
Silence fell heavy.
The Devourer took a step closer.
"You've created a gap," it said. "A beautiful one. We'd like to help you widen it."
Ashen's jaw tightened.
"I didn't free the world so you could hollow it out."
The Devourer chuckled softly.
"Freedom is hollow," it said. "That's what makes it delicious."
The sky groaned.
Reality thinned.
Lyra's voice trembled, but she held her ground.
"You can't take this world," she said. "He won't let you."
The Devourer looked at Ashen with open curiosity.
"That's what we're here to find out."
It raised one hand.
Not to attack.
To sample.
The ground beneath Ashen darkened, sigils dissolving as if erased by unseen teeth. The land didn't break—it forgot.
Ashen stepped forward.
"No," he said calmly.
He didn't push back with power.
He reintroduced context.
The erased sigils flickered back into place—not restored, but re-remembered. The land reasserted itself.
The Devourer froze.
"…Interesting," it murmured.
Ashen felt the strain now—deep, subtle, costly.
"This world isn't empty," Ashen said. "It just stopped shouting."
The Devourer lowered its hand slowly.
"You don't counter us with force," it said. "You counter us with meaning."
Ashen didn't deny it.
"That won't scale," the Devourer warned. "There are many of us. You are one."
Ashen met its gaze, steady.
"I'm not alone," he said.
The plateau responded—sigils across the land glowing faintly, distant lines answering like echoes.
Not commands.
Connections.
The Devourer laughed softly, genuinely amused.
"Oh," it said. "This will be fascinating."
It stepped backward, the seam in the sky reopening behind it.
"We'll let the others know," it said pleasantly. "The correction doesn't just block us."
"It teaches."
The Devourer vanished.
The sky stitched itself closed.
Silence rushed back in.
Lyra exhaled shakily.
"Did we just… win?"
Ashen shook his head.
"No," he said quietly. "We just became interesting."
The hunters approached cautiously now, expressions grim.
The ash-skinned woman spoke first.
"That thing was older than the Framework," she said. "And it backed away."
Ashen felt the cost settle into his bones—fatigue without weakness.
"They won't all do that," he said.
Lyra looked up at the sky, where stars slowly returned.
"What happens now?" she asked.
Ashen gazed across the open ground, feeling threads stretching farther than before.
"Now," he said, "we find the others before the Devourers do."
The wind rose, carrying distant echoes of awakening across the land.
And far away, beyond sight and law, something vast and hungry leaned forward.
Because the correction had just been noticed.