The comms officer glanced up from her console, expression tightening.
"Priority signal. Encrypted channel. It's… the Baron, sir."
Kaff's hands stilled above the briefing display.
He didn't ask which Baron.
"Route it here."
He stepped away from the table, the room dimming as the channel secured. The screen remained dark—no feed, just a pulsing signal icon and the cold, open silence of a line waiting to be acknowledged.
The channel opened with a faint hum. No image—then came the voice.
"The situation, Kaff."
Kaff straightened, hands behind his back.
"Yes— I mean, yes, my lord. As reported earlier, we lost connection with the cadets the moment they entered the Bentree forest. Interference is severe—organic shielding from the canopy structure is disrupting all signal layers."
A pause. Just static, and breath.
Then the Baron's voice again—quiet, but no less sharp for it.
"And your response?"
"We initiated passive monitoring and limited tracking drones. However…"
He hesitated—just for a breath.
Silence. Kaff could hear it—a slow breath drawn through teeth. Not surprise. Not disbelief.
Kaff continued:
"Sector Eight's expansion mission absorbed three full active teams. We lack the personnel for an extended sweep. We're stretched thin. I can't commit a full search without compromising the sector's defences."
After a brief pause, the Baron said:
"I'll be in Sector Five by noon."
Kaff blinked. His shoulders tensed.
"My lord… with all due respect, your command assignment—"
"Is being covered. The Count lent his authority and cleared my movement. His blood is out there too."
Kaff said nothing for a moment. His lips thinned.
The Baron continued:
"I'm off-duty for the next few days. I'm leaving to handle this personally."
"Understood."
"You'll brief me in person. Get your maps ready."
"Yes, my lord."
The channel went dead.
Kaff exhaled slowly through his nose.
The comms officer looked up, hesitant.
"Sir?"
He turned to the tactical screen, hands already moving.
"Pull the canopy scans from the last twenty-four hours. We'd better have something to show him. Have Medical and Logistics briefed for off-channel deployment."
He paused and turned to the comms officer.
"And clear airspace south of the Sector. We're about to get company."
***
The rain hadn't stopped. If anything, it had deepened—less mist now, more weight. Droplets fell heavier, bouncing off the bark, slicking every surface with a cold sheen pouring from the crimson sky in a constant roar. Vlad's rad suit hissed softly as droplets struck its surface—designed to withstand toxins, heat, even acid storms. The hardened material kept the worst of the cold at bay — but no amount of shielding could erase the exhaustion pulling at his limbs.
"Nearly half the day's gone," Lana muttered, her voice hoarse.
Vlad didn't answer right away. He was watching the bend in the trees ahead. The crimson leaves had stopped rustling. Not because the wind had died—but because the weight of the rain was pulling them down like drenched cloth.
"We need shelter," he finally said. "Somewhere we can dry off. Wait out the night."
Lana nodded, wiping water from her eyes.
"If we don't slip off a branch first."
They moved slowly now. No more frantic climbing. No more sprinting. Each step was deliberate, cautious—testing slick bark with boots that squelched with every step.
The Bentree canopy had turned into a cathedral of rain. The rain had saved them once. But now it had turned against them.
Sheets of water spilled from the leaves above, cascading in long, silver threads. Every surface gleamed with wet light—branch, bark, vine, even their own skin. The tangled network of limbs that had once been their path now felt like a trap. Slick. Unforgiving. Alive.
No, it was always unforgiving.
Below, where the branches descended into shadow, the ever-present swamp churned quietly — its dark waters fed by the relentless downpour, rippling with pieces of leaf and old rot. The black swamp stretched in all directions like a dark mirror, quiet and now seeming alive.
The forest had gone silent.
Everything—mutants, unknown predators—was hiding from the rain.
And so were they.
Vlad moved slowly along a thick, spiraling branch, his boots slipping every few steps despite how careful he was. He gripped the dangling vines to keep his balance. The high-altitude wind cut straight through the canopy blowing the water droplets off his hair.
Lana moved ahead, crouched low, one hand trailing along a branch that had grown sideways into a suspended arch. Her face was pale under streaks of water and grime, and her breaths came sharp. Her sword was still drawn. She hadn't sheathed it since the climb.
They said nothing for a while.
Just moved.
Step by careful step across the soaked branches high above the forest's heart.
Vlad's mind reeled from exhaustion, but some part of him kept scanning the canopy. Looking for a hollow. A tangle of limbs. Anything that might shield them. Not just from the rain, but from the things that lived in the Bentree Forest. The ones that hadn't chosen them as food—yet.
His voice, when it came, was rough.
"We can't keep going much longer."
Lana didn't answer at first. Her eyes were focused on the next leap—a short, rotted bridge-branch arcing over a sheer drop. She stepped across it without hesitation, boots sloshing. The branch bowed beneath her weight but held.
She turned back.
"Neither can the forest."
Vlad frowned.
She nodded upward.
"Even this place is hiding. That's what scares me."
The Bentree's, massive and ancient, should've been alive with movement—the distant calls of predators. But now there was only the rain. It beat down in steady rhythms, echoing off branches, off bark, off water—like the whole world was being slowly drowned.
A droplet slid down Vlad's temple. He winced. His arms felt heavy. His shoulder screamed every time he reached out. His foot slipped—just slightly—and for one terrifying moment, he almost fell.
Lana caught his arm and yanked him forward, and they both collapsed against a wide knot in the branch.
"We fall, it's not broken bones—it's bodies they won't bother to recover."
Vlad breathed hard, nodding.
They needed shelter.
And fast.
Not just from the cold or the rain. But from the exhaustion curling like a snake around their legs. From the ache in their lungs. From the whispering terror of being alone in something as big and alive and watchful as the Bentree Forest.
Minutes dragged.
Lana halted ahead, crouching low. Her hand went up—a signal. Vlad approached carefully, boots finding purchase on the massive cross-branch she was standing on.
"Found something," she muttered.
Vlad stepped up beside her, boots scraping lightly on hard bark.
"There." She pointed with her blade.
Where three enormous branches converged, a hollowed crease had formed—dry and slightly recessed. A shallow depression in the bark, covered from above by the natural curl of a massive limb. It wasn't a cave, or even a proper shelter, but it was shielded. For now, it was enough.
But the moment he stepped inside, he froze.
No way…
Nestled in the hollow's curve, half-covered by leaves and dark with ash, lay a cold campfire.