Decca and Molsi exchange a glance, but they don’t stop me or even ask me to clear up after myself. They know better. And yes, that means I’d sulk pretty phenomenally if I’m delayed.
“Thank you,” I throw over my shoulder as I follow Dreink out into the tunnels, my pulse thrumming.
A new human. Found unconscious. Taken to headquarters.
Something tells me this is exactly the kind of excitement I’ve been waiting for.
The tunnels twist and shift, damp air curling against my skin as we move. Bioluminescent veins pulse gently along the rocky walls, casting eerie blue-green shadows that flicker with each step we take. The path is familiar—I’ve made the trip to headquarters a handful of times—but there’s always a sense of unease travelling this far from the heart of our makeshift town.
Once we’re out of the tunnels, we’re exposed. Not just to the creatures that lurk beyond the cavern walls but to the ruling queen’s spies.
“You got any details?” I ask, my voice hushed despite the steady crunch of my boots against the stone floor.
Dreink glances at me, their overlong tongue flicking out briefly, tasting the air before we leave the confines of the covered tunnels and step into the daylight. “Only what I told you. The human was found unconscious. No obvious injuries, but their arrival is… odd.”
“Odd how?”
They hesitate. “Fredole, who brought them back to base, mentioned their body temperature was lower than normal. Plus, there was a dead Dlanwik nearby.”
I frown. “Strange.” Sure, there’s a lot of heat in this part of Terrafeara, but there are snowcapped mountains in the distance. I’ve never got close to them myself, but Shanae told me the snow is almost identical to that on Earth. The main difference is the flakes are more like tiny shimmering crystals, almost translucent in the sunlight, rather than the soft, fluffy flakes we know.
A dead Dlanwik close is also bizarre. They’re venomous creatures, and if one had bitten the human, they would definitely be dead rather than just unconscious.
Does that mean the human managed to kill it? Impressive as hell if they did.
But hold on. Did Dreink say they weren’t wearing trousers?
I roll my shoulders, anticipation tightening my muscles. The human’s unconsciousness could mean anything. Not everyone coming through the rift handles it well. Some freak out, others attack whatever they see, and a few just go into some kind of stupor, completely zoned out. Me? I wasn’t exactly graceful. Those first five days of trying to survive were a mess. I’m pretty sure I spent half that time hiding in a bush, shaking like a leaf, and trying not to get eaten by whatever local wildlife thought I looked tasty. But hey, at least I eventually figured out the whole “don’t die” thing.
This poor bastard? Seems like they didn’t get the chance to figure it out.
As we break through into the open field leading to headquarters, my eyes land on the structure in the middle of it all, and as always, I have to suppress a laugh.
The fucking bowling alley.
Of all the places that could’ve been ripped from Earth and spat out into Terrafeara, it had to be this. A dated, neon-lit,old-school bowling alley straight out of an American suburban fever dream. The first time I’d seen it, I thought someone was screwing with me. A piece of Earth wedged into a monster dimension. But now? It’s headquarters. A beacon in the underground. A joke and a safe house all wrapped into one.
We step inside, past the dusty reception counter and the ancient vending machines filled with nothing but dust balls and rust. The place is dimly lit, the blacklight glow catching on the scratched-up walls where neon lights still flicker. The lanes have long been repurposed, except for one—most are now training spaces, while other areas have been turned into war rooms and makeshift quarters for those being assessed.
At the far end, past the gutted snack bar, a small group is gathered outside the door to the small healing quarters. Varek stands at the centre, his imposing frame making the others look small in comparison. His vibrant purple skin shifts slightly under the glow, his silver eyes sharp as he turns to face me.
“Sonny,” he greets me, voice a deep rumble. “Good. We need to talk.”
My attention snaps to the cot inside the room.
A man.
He’s stretched out, unconscious, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. His dark hair is damp, clinging to his forehead, and his skin is pale—too pale. His lips are also chapped. But the thing that catches me most?
No trousers.
Not in the fun, sexy way. More in the “I got yanked through a rift mid-something” kind of way. He’s wearing a thin vest and boxers. I squint. Are those snow-boots?
I step closer, my curiosity outweighing caution. “They’ve been unconscious this whole time?”
Varek nods. “We checked for injuries. There are none. No bruising, no marks. But something isn’t right.”
I glance at the others in the room—a scout; Aeroth, our medic; and Reat, one of Varek’s trusted advisers. All watching. All waiting.
