August found a decent place to camp as the sun disappeared behind the hills.
A small grove of trees that looked reasonably normal — no contradictions, no philosophical discussions, just regular oak trees doing regular tree things. There was even a little stream running nearby, which was a nice touch.
"Good choice, past me," August said, setting up his bedroll. "I always did have an eye for atmospheric camping spots."
His Foundation monitor had been quiet since the wolf-pack incident. Apparently being immune to claws, teeth, tackles, and sonic attacks was sufficient for the local wildlife. August felt pretty good about that — his immunity system was working exactly like it should.
He ate some of Marta's bread and one of the crystalline rations while reviewing Arthur's logbook notes. Zone 31-B, 32-A, 33-C… all cleared with military efficiency. Forsaken eliminated, Zone Kings destroyed, moving on to the next target.
"Very professional," August said, impressed despite himself. "Arthur really grew into the role I gave him."
The problem was figuring out where Arthur had gone next.
The logbook mentioned "deep zones" and "Alpha-class Zone Kings," but the map notations were frustratingly vague. Arrows pointing southeast with warnings about extreme hazards, but no specific locations.
"Come on, Arthur," August muttered, studying the rough sketches. "I created you to be methodical. Where are the coordinates? The detailed route plans?"
A howl echoed across the hills — different from the wolf-pack, longer and more mournful. August looked up from the logbook, listening. The sound came again, answered by another from a different direction.
"Night shift checking in," August said. "Lovely."
He built a small fire using supplies from his pack.
The flames cast dancing shadows between the trees, creating a comfortable circle of light in the growing darkness. August settled back against his bedroll, journal in hand, trying to plan his next move.
The howling continued — sometimes distant, sometimes uncomfortably close. But nothing approached his campsite. Either his immunity was putting off some kind of deterrent scent, or the local predators had learned to avoid humans entirely.
"Probably the latter," August said. "Arthur's been through here recently. I bet the wildlife has figured out that humans mean bad news."
Around midnight, August heard something new.
Not howling — singing.
Voices carrying across the empty landscape, harmonizing in languages he didn't recognize. The melody was hauntingly beautiful, but there was something wrong with it. Too many voices for any reasonable group size. Too perfect, like a recording played through supernatural speakers.
"Forsaken," August realized, sitting up straighter. "Has to be."
The singing was getting closer.
August checked his Foundation monitor — still steady blue. Whatever was making that music, his immunity system didn't consider it a threat. Yet.
"They're probably peaceful," August said, mostly to reassure himself. "Like the Sonorous Legion. Just… night singers. Perfectly harmless."
The first figure appeared at the edge of his firelight maybe ten minutes later.
Tall, pale, wearing robes that seemed to be made of shadow and starlight. Its face was beautiful in the way that classical statues were beautiful — perfect features, flawless proportions, completely inhuman.
"Traveler," it said, its voice a perfect harmony with the distant singing. "You walk in dangerous lands."
"So I've been told," August said, trying to keep his voice casual. "I'm looking for someone. Arthur Solvain. Have you heard of him?"
The figure's expression didn't change, but the singing in the distance shifted to a minor key.
"The Silence-Bringer," it said. "Yes. We know his work."
More figures emerged from the darkness.
All tall, all beautiful, all wrong in ways that made August's eyes water to look at directly. They arranged themselves in a circle around his campsite, never quite stepping into the firelight but close enough that August could see the way shadows moved wrong around their bodies.
"We are the Chorus of the Eternal Dawn," the first figure said. "We sing the sun to sleep and call the stars to dance. We have done this since the world grew quiet."
"That sounds lovely," August said. "Very poetic. I like what I did with the mystical speech patterns."
The figures tilted their heads in unison, like birds.
"What you… did?" one of them asked.
August realized his mistake immediately.
But the damage was done. The Chorus was staring at him with suddenly very focused attention, and the distant singing had stopped entirely.
"I mean," August said quickly, "what someone did. Whoever created this place. Very creative worldbuilding."
"You speak as one who shapes reality," another figure said. "Yet you are merely flesh and dreams."
"Just flesh," August agreed. "Definitely just flesh. No reality-shaping here."
The first figure stepped closer to the firelight. Up close, August could see that its perfect features were literally carved from what looked like living marble. Beautiful, flawless, and completely terrifying.
"The flesh lies," it said. "We taste the echo of creation in your words."
August's Foundation monitor flickered green.
Whatever these things were planning, his immunity system was getting ready for it. Which probably meant this conversation was about to go very badly.
"Look," August said, standing up slowly, "I don't want any trouble. I'm just passing through, following Arthur's trail. You guys can go back to singing the sun to sleep or whatever."
"The Silence-Bringer has passed this way," the marble figure agreed. "He spoke with our conductor. Made his usual threats."
"Threats?"
"Join the silence, or be made silent." The figure's voice carried no emotion. "Standard protocol for those who sing in the dark places."
The circle of figures began moving.
Not walking — flowing. Like living shadows with marble faces, they began to rotate around August's campsite in perfect synchronization. The singing resumed, but now it was coming from them directly, voices blending into harmonies that made the air itself vibrate.
"We told him we would consider his offer," the first figure said as it glided past. "Lies, of course. We have no intention of embracing silence."
August's Foundation monitor was flickering green more rapidly now.
"So what did Arthur do?"
"Nothing. Yet." The figure completed its circuit and faced August again. "But he will return. The Silence-Bringer always returns when his patience expires."
"And then?"
"Then we will sing his death-song, as we have sung for all who would silence the music of the spheres."
August felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air.
These weren't friendly Forsaken like the Sonorous Legion. These were the dangerous kind — the kind that killed people. The kind Arthur spent his time hunting.
"Well," August said, edging toward his pack, "that sounds like something Arthur will need to handle when he gets back. I should probably get going—"
"No."
The word came from all of them simultaneously, a chorus of marble voices that made the ground beneath August's feet vibrate.
"You taste of creation," the first figure said. "You will stay. You will sing with us until the stars burn cold."
August's Foundation monitor went solid green.
The Chorus began to close their circle, flowing inward like a tide of living shadow. Their singing grew louder, more complex, and August realized with growing horror that they weren't just making music.
They were weaving something. Reality was bending around their voices, the air itself becoming thick and syrupy. August tried to step backward and found his feet wouldn't move properly.
"Adaptive immunity," he said desperately. "Come on, Foundation. Do your thing."
His monitor pulsed, analyzing the threat. Within seconds, August felt the strange paralysis fade. He could move again, and the reality-warping effects of their singing slid off him like water.
But the Chorus wasn't giving up.
"Interesting," the lead figure said, noting August's resistance. "Very interesting indeed."
The singing changed tempo and key. Now it was sharp, aggressive, like knives made of sound. August felt his ears pop and his vision blur, but his Foundation adapted quickly. Within moments, he was immune to their sonic attacks.
They tried harmony-based mind control next. Then reality displacement. Then something that felt like they were trying to turn his bones into musical instruments.
Each time, August's Foundation adapted within seconds, leaving him standing untouched in the center of their increasingly frustrated circle.
"Well," August said, feeling oddly proud, "turns out being the creator does have some advantages. My immunity system knows how to handle my own characters."
The Chorus stopped singing entirely.
The silence was somehow worse than the music.
All those marble faces turned toward August with expressions that were no longer beautiful. Perfect features twisted into something predatory, hungry, and very, very angry.
"You will sing," the lead figure said, its voice now carrying harmonics that made August's teeth ache. "One way or another, you will add your voice to our eternal song."
"Actually," August said, shouldering his pack and backing toward the edge of the firelight, "I think I'll pass. Thanks for the offer, though. Really appreciate the whole mystical choir aesthetic. Very atmospheric."
The Chorus rushed him all at once.
August ran.
Behind him, the beautiful Forsaken flowed through the darkness like living nightmares, their voices raised in a hunting song that made the air itself scream. August's Foundation monitor was a solid bar of green light as his immunity system worked overtime, adapting to new attacks every few seconds.
Reality warping, sonic manipulation, fear-based paralysis, despair induction — the Chorus threw everything they had at the fleeing human. And none of it worked.
August's Foundation made him immune to each attack within moments of exposure. By the time he'd been running for five minutes, he was essentially untouchable.
Which only made the Chorus angrier.
"You cannot run forever!" the lead figure called after him. "We are eternal! We are patient! We will follow you until the stars burn out!"
"Good luck with that!" August shouted back, leaping over a fallen log. "I've got adaptive immunity and a really good cardio routine!"
The chase continued for what felt like hours.
August ran through empty valleys and over moonlit hills, the Chorus flowing behind him like a tide of musical death. They never seemed to tire, never seemed to slow down, but they also couldn't actually hurt him anymore.
It was, August realized, probably the weirdest stalemate in history.
Dawn was breaking over the eastern hills when August finally spotted salvation.
A cluster of buildings in the distance — another waystation, maybe, or an abandoned settlement. Either way, it looked like it might offer shelter from his persistent musical stalkers.
August put on a final burst of speed and reached the buildings just as the Chorus seemed to be giving up the chase. They stopped at the edge of the settlement, unwilling or unable to follow him further.
"Dawn approaches," the lead figure called across the distance. "We must return to our singing posts. But this is not finished, little creator. We will remember your scent."
"Looking forward to it!" August called back, though he really wasn't.
The Chorus flowed away into the shadows like a retreating tide, their voices fading into the morning air. August collapsed against the nearest building, exhausted but triumphant.
"Okay," he panted, checking his Foundation monitor as it faded back to steady blue. "Note to self: not all Forsaken are friendly. Some of them are definitely on the 'needs to be eliminated' list."
He looked around the settlement, noting the familiar signs of Arthur's work. Scorch marks, precisely destroyed buildings, the lingering smell of burned crystalline remains.
"Arthur was here too," August realized. "Recently."
And somewhere ahead, Arthur was still working. Still hunting dangerous Forsaken like the Chorus of the Eternal Dawn. Still doing the job August had originally created him to do.
"Hang on, Arthur," August said, pulling out his map to plot his next move. "Your creator's coming to find you. And after tonight, I'm starting to understand why you might need backup."
Even if Arthur would never ask for it himself.