The Ember Wastes didn't breathe.
It pulsed.
Like a furnace with a heartbeat.
The squad moved in single file across the broken edge of the plateau—boots crunching over black stone slicked with soot and melted glass. Cael led the front with Wren at his side, their eyes scanning every fissure in the terrain. The heat shimmered in ripples around them, bending distance and thought. Behind them followed Lyndra, Ryve, and Pax—quiet, alert, and sweating rivers beneath the black fabric of their armor.
Flanking the rear was Elara, twin blades strapped to her back, silent as a shadow. And moving just ahead, guiding the line with her fingers lifted to read the wind, was Sora.
Their Knight.Their Bishop.And five Pawns.
The Ember deployment squad.
It was the first time Cael had seen a team this small without Vera or Elijah in it. But that was the point. The Officials wanted risk now. The Major Pieces had their own sectors to watch—other tiles to secure. Their base's food supply would be empty by the next sunrise. If they didn't find a capsule today, someone would collapse tomorrow.
Maybe more than one.
"Heat index is climbing again," Sora said, her voice smooth but distant. She was always distant—like her body walked with them but her mind rode smoke high above. "If it hits internal strain markers, the armor filtration will fail. We'll start hallucinating in under an hour."
"We have less than that," Elara said. "This ridge burns out by nightfall. Lava swell from below. There's pressure rising."
"How do you know?" Ryve asked.
Elara didn't answer.She just gestured for silence.
Cael adjusted his grip on his sword. The ground underfoot wasn't flat. It was warped—like a metal sheet half-melted then refrozen mid-wave. He kept thinking of Lia. Of whether she'd ever walk across land that didn't shift beneath her like skin. Of whether he would.
They climbed over a blasted slope and halted at the edge.
Below lay a deep basin ringed by rock teeth and scorched vents. At its center sat the wreck of an old supply drone—split open, half-buried, still blinking faintly through a coating of ash. The capsule.
Their first hope in hours.
Food.Real food.
Cael's wristband pinged softly. The signal was weak but real—an encoded sponsor cache buried in the pod's frame.
Wren exhaled beside him. "We're not dead yet."
"Don't jinx it," Lyndra muttered.
They began to descend.
The slope was steep, scattered with unstable shale. Elara moved first, her weight shifting perfectly. Sora followed, her hands open and low, palms skimming the air. Cael led the others down in pairs, boots sliding on glassy dust.
They reached the capsule.
It was an oblong crate—standard Federation-grade, scorched on one side, probably clipped by a lava geyser mid-delivery. The hatch was jammed. Ryve knelt, popped the casing with the edge of his axe, and peeled it back like armor.
Inside: nine pouches. Four water canisters. Two salt-stabilization injectors. One packet of dried nutrient gel.
It wasn't much.But it was enough.
Lyndra grabbed two pouches. Wren passed a water canister to Pax, who downed half of it with shaking hands.
"Three days max," Cael said. "Rationed."
"Two if we're burning like this," Wren added.
Elara stayed quiet. Still. Watching the rock vents nearby.Sora hadn't moved at all.
And then she whispered, "We're not alone."
Everyone froze.
Then came the first sound—not a roar. Not yet.
A single, sharp click of claw on glass.
Then another.
From behind the vent wall, something emerged.
It crawled on long, lean limbs—fur like ash-soaked velvet, glinting with red veins. Its back was ridged with glowing bone, and its eyes were pinpricks of ember light. No sound came from its breath. Just the slow scrape of black claws across stone.
Scorch Virewolf. Row E.
Cael's mouth went dry. They'd studied it.
Silent hunter. Thermal signature low. Weak to sudden light bursts. Fast. Smart.
And not alone.
A second one stepped from the opposite side of the basin.Then a third from the shadows behind them.
"We're boxed," Sora said.
"Lyndra, protect Pax," Elara ordered. "Ryve—left flank. Cael, Wren—front. Sora, I'll take the rear."
They drew weapons in unison.
Cael's sword hummed faintly in the heat. Wren flipped her curved blades into forward stance. Elara pulled her twin daggers, and Sora raised a single palm.
The Virewolves circled.
No howls.No warning.
Then the first lunged—straight for Ryve.
He swung hard, forcing the beast back, but its claws raked his side. Sparks flew from the armor plating. He stumbled, and the second Virewolf darted in from the right.
Wren caught it mid-pounce, blades crossing in an arc that clipped its jaw and drove it sideways.
Cael met the third head-on. His sword clanged off the thing's spine as it twisted, jaws snapping at his throat. He rolled, came up low, and drove his blade under the shoulder. It shrieked—a high, electric screech—and bucked away, dragging blood across his sleeve.
Sora didn't move until the first beast came near.Then she raised her hand and closed her eyes.
A flash of light burst outward.A controlled flare—too bright, too fast.
The creatures screamed.
Elara leapt through the shockwave, blades spinning.One beast collapsed—its face carved open, one eye still glowing even in death. Another turned to flee.
Cael didn't let it.
He ran. He drove his sword down hard into its back—through sinew and scorched hide. The Virewolf twisted under him, claws lashing his thigh. He yelled but didn't let go.
Wren dove beside him, sliding a blade between the ribs.
The beast spasmed once.Then fell still.
The final one retreated—limping, bleeding, gone.
The whole fight had lasted forty-six seconds.But it had felt like a lifetime.
Everyone stood gasping in the fading heat.
Sora lowered her hand. "Good."
Cael's pulse still thundered in his ears. "That was… coordinated."
"They always are," Elara said. "We think they're monsters. The Board trained them like players."
Lyndra tore a strip from her sleeve and wrapped Ryve's side. "We keep moving?"
"No," Sora said, voice suddenly sharper. "We fall back. The quadrant's not empty. They were hunting in rotation."
Cael turned back to the capsule. Most of the food had been packed.
He looked down at the Virewolf corpses.
They were steaming.Burning from the inside.
Something in their bodies was shifting. Their muscles melted. Their veins turned black.
The Board didn't just deploy them.It used them.Weaponized. Discarded.
Wren caught his eye.
"They're not the only things meant to die out here," she said.
He didn't respond.
He just stared down at the steaming corpse.Then looked up—toward the far horizon where smoke still rose in thin black spires.
And realized:This wasn't survival.It was a countdown.
And they were already late.
Then Pax broke the silence.
"Okay, real talk," he said, breathless. "On a scale of one to absolutely insane… how bad of an idea would it be to cook one of these?"
Everyone turned.
"You mean eat it?" Lyndra asked, blinking.
"Well," Pax said, half-joking, half-serious, "meat's meat, right?"
Ryve arched an eyebrow. "It just tried to decapitate us."
"And now it's barbecuing itself," Wren added, wrinkling her nose. "Look at the steam. That's not cooking. That's melting."
Sora didn't even turn. "You'd be dead within the hour. Their muscle tissue is lined with biosynthetic agents. Think strain cocktails, acidic decay, and nerve blockers."
Pax gulped. "Right. Just checking."
Cael sighed. "If we're ever desperate enough to start roasting monsters, I'm electing to chew my wristband first."
There was a beat of silence.Then Ryve chuckled. "Might still taste better than that gel."
It wasn't a laugh.But it was close.
And in the Ember Wastes, that counted as a win.