By the time Tower Seven came into view, no one was talking anymore.
It stood ahead of them, half-buried in the skeletal remains of the old city—steel and stone fused together in a shape that had once been orderly. Now it leaned slightly to one side, like it had been forced to endure something it wasn't built for.
No signal light.
No rotation of the beacon.
Nothing.
Kael slowed without meaning to.
That wasn't right.
The towers were designed to be seen from miles away—constant, steady pulses of light cutting through the Nightlands. Even damaged, they flickered.
This one didn't.
Elara didn't break stride, but her hand shifted slightly on the hilt of her blade—subtle, controlled, ready.
"Hold formation," she said.
Her voice was quieter now.
Not relaxed.
Measured.
Bram rolled his shoulder once, adjusting the grip on his warhammer. "Feels dead," he muttered.
"Everything out here feels dead," Toren replied, but he said it too quickly, like he was trying to convince himself.
Malik didn't respond. His gaze moved constantly—not fast, not erratic. Just steady, deliberate, like he was cataloging everything and trusting none of it.
Sera dropped from the rooftop in a smooth motion, landing lightly beside them. She didn't look at anyone right away—just kept her eyes on the tower.
"No movement above," she said. Then, after a beat, "Nothing below either."
That last part made Kael's chest tighten.
Nothing below wasn't normal.
Elara stopped ten paces from the tower.
"Check it," she said.
One of the veterans stepped forward, crouching beside the control panel. He ran his fingers across the surface slowly, brushing away dust that shouldn't have settled that thick, that fast.
"…No power."
Kael frowned. "That doesn't make sense."
"It doesn't have to," Bram said under his breath.
The hunter shook his head, tapping the casing. "It's not just down. It's—"
He hesitated.
"Say it," Elara said.
"…Gone."
Silence settled over them.
Kael stepped closer, peering past the man's shoulder.
The casing wasn't broken.
No forced entry.
No external damage.
"How do you lose a power core without opening the housing?" Toren asked, adjusting the strap of his satchel with a nervous tug.
"You don't," Malik said.
That landed harder than it should have.
Elara crouched beside the panel, her expression unreadable as she examined it herself. Her fingers paused just above the surface, like she was expecting it to react.
It didn't.
"…Search the perimeter," she said finally.
They spread out.
Kael moved along the outer edge of the structure, his steps careful without being slow. His grip tightened slightly on his spear as he scanned the ground.
Something caught his eye.
A streak.
Faint.
Dark against the dust.
He crouched, brushing his fingers across it.
Dry.
Too dry.
Blood.
But not enough of it.
"Kael."
He looked up.
Malik stood a few feet away, watching him—not the blood.
Him.
"You see something?"
Kael nodded, then stood, following the trail.
It didn't go far.
That was the first problem.
The second—
was what waited at the end of it.
Kael stopped.
"…Captain."
The others closed in.
Bram's usual ease disappeared as he stared down. His jaw tightened, and for once, he didn't say anything.
Toren swallowed hard, shifting his weight back a step like his body wanted distance before his mind caught up.
Sera didn't react outwardly—but her grip on her weapon adjusted, just slightly.
Malik went still.
Not tense.
Still.
The body lay where it had fallen.
Armor intact.
Weapon still in hand.
No signs of struggle.
No defensive wounds.
No damage.
And yet—
"…What the hell is that?" Toren whispered.
Kael didn't answer.
He couldn't.
Because he already knew.
There was nothing inside it.
Not blood.
Not tissue.
Not anything that should have been there.
Just—
emptiness.
Like something had taken everything that made the body alive and left the rest behind.
Bram exhaled slowly through his nose. "I don't like this."
"That's new," Sera said quietly.
He didn't respond.
Elara stepped forward, her gaze sweeping over the scene once, then again, slower this time.
Analyzing.
Not reacting.
That was worse.
"Position of collapse?" she asked.
"No drag marks," Malik said immediately. "No disturbance. He dropped where he stood."
"Time of death?"
Malik crouched, studying what remained. His hand hovered just above the body but didn't touch it.
"…Recent."
Kael felt that pressure again.
Stronger now.
Not just watching.
Closer.
"Elara," he said quietly.
She looked at him.
"There's not enough blood."
Her eyes sharpened slightly.
"I noticed."
That confirmed it.
Whatever did this— didn't kill the way anything they knew did.
Sera's head tilted slightly, her gaze shifting past them.
"…We're not alone."
That was enough.
Every weapon came up.
Kael turned slowly, scanning the broken skyline, the empty streets, the dark gaps between collapsed structures.
Nothing moved.
Nothing breathed.
Nothing revealed itself.
But the feeling didn't go away.
It deepened.
Like something had taken a step closer without making a sound.
Elara rose to her feet in one smooth motion.
"We finish the sweep," she said.
Bram blinked. "Captain—"
"We confirm the tower and we leave," she continued, cutting him off. "We don't panic. We don't break formation."
Her gaze flicked across all of them.
"And we do not assume we understand what we're dealing with."
That shut everyone up.
Kael adjusted his grip again, this time more deliberately.
Control.
He needed control.
Because whatever this was—
It wasn't just stronger than a feral.
It wasn't even the same kind of threat.
They moved again.
Closer to the tower.
Closer to something none of them could see.
And as Kael passed the body—
He could have sworn— it felt lighter than it should have.