Chapter One: Phantom Shadows A tormented scrape sheared across the jeep, a razor-sharp tear split through the side of the recon vehicle piercing the side like butter. The jeep jerked, causing my body to surge to the right; I was being thrust right through the vacant door! My harness dug deep into my body, bruising me. It’s all that sat between me and certain death. The field car lurched, tires shrieking as they skidded over broken pine needles and rotting leaves; moss and rot had us sliding out as if we were driving on black ice. I grabbed for the doorframe but missed, my shoulder slammed so hard that the breath was squeezed out of me like a squeezed lemon. I screamed for help, for anyone to grab me to keep from flying out of the jeep and straight into the claws of the monstrous beast that was chasing us. “Thatcher!” I screamed again. “Tod!” I screamed louder. “Anyone, help!” The jeep jerked to the right, wheels screeching. It almost had us–again. “Ahhhhh!” I continued to scream. “Help!” There were needle-backs and skulldraggers chasing us like raptors hunting prey. They were the result of an Amnosian experiment, that’s all I knew. Who they were or what they are went over my head. All I could see was a beast that was trying to get me. There was a needle-back that was moving in the thicket–a perfect Amnosian weapon. When it came out of the thicket, hunting us in a pack, I could see their long-bristled backs with pale spines, each one thin and straight, like a knitting needle; they grew from raw bone, yellowed and porous, still faintly veined. When they took breaths, their spines flexed. There were even some snapped needles that had broken off and regrew crooked, these looked like poorly healed fractures. It moved low to the ground, hunched and twitching, with an uneven step–it seemed like it moved as a half animal and half something else–something that struggled to remember how to walk. When threatened, which it clearly was not right now, the muscles along their spine contracted, lifting the needles in a rippling wave. When the needles moved, they sounded like raining glass. Up close, the horror deepened. “It’s right there, it’s right there! Someone help, it’s trying to take me!” The creature’s face was right in front of mine, its human-like claws and fingers were clawing at me. I looked into its face. It was twisted and missing something. It was all wrong–misaligned. Its eyes sat too forward, the jaw was unhinged wider than it should have been, and teeth crowded its mouth, showing irregular gums that looked as scarred as the jeep–as if they'd been torn and re-torn. When I looked at the creature’s hands that were scratching at me and the automobile, I noticed how there were limbs that looked like fingers with outstretched claws. That isn’t right. What are these things made from? I wondered as the jeep cut to the left, causing the harness to buckle again, strangling me in place. “Why are they attacking us!” I exclaimed. “It’s what they do,” said a voice behind me. It was calming–Tod. “Tod?” I called, surprised he hadn’t reached out earlier when I was screaming. “Anna, sit and hold on tight, this is a bumpy ride sweetheart,” “What is that thing, Tod?” I yelled over the loud engine that was screaming through the forest. The turbo whinced, leaving a whining engine; the driver clutched the gear, causing it to grind and stall out as branches and saplings cracked, like decaying bones. “Needle-backs don’t attack cleanly, they lash. They scrape. They graze skin and then retreat, letting the spines do the work. A single scratch is enough so Anna, stay as centered as possible. Whatever you do, DON’T ALLOW THAT THING TO TOUCH YOU!” The rig powered up again with a metallic rattle. Exhaust coughed and the tires screamed for traction but we were off, just before a group of needle-backs had fully ascended on us. “But why, Tod?” “Not now, Anna. Just hold on!” I reached for him, for something to help ground me in this horrible situation. “But, Tod, Why?” I repeated. “They’re made, Anna!” He yelled over the roaring engine. I gasped. I knew this already but, hearing it said point-blankly was another thing altogether. Our bickering continued, causing the driver to lash out, “Quiet her down Tod! She is distracting me!” The driver wore all black; her words were as cold as ice. The creature almost got us! Got me! Got Tod! What the hell is that thing made from? A stream of panicked questions filled the air around me. I’d known of these beasts my entire life but being this close to one what a whole other experience altogether. I could hear it breathing–deep, uneven pulls that rattled in my ears. I smelled it before I saw it: iron, decay, something burned so deeply into me that even now my body had become familiar with it. The ruins of the once great Stone Brooks and Olympia flashed past in fragments–collapsed towers, skeletal overpasses, warning signs half-swallowed by vines that pulsed faintly in the dark. Following the vast city were trees–giants with outstretched arms, and roots that thudded against the beat of the jeep. Towering Douglas firs hovered over us as we drove, a rain-dim green glow was in the horizon. Fog-threaded trunks and moss-sheathed bark rained a silhouette of power and strength as ferns blurred past like green knives. The headlights were smeared by mist and the taillights swallowed by rain. “Why can’t I get scratched by them, Tod?” I had to know. He hesitated, not wanting to reveal too much, then answered, “Anyone scratched or bitten by a needle-back who survives the initial infection may begin to change. First comes pain then sping–burning pressure, like something trying to punch its way out. Then the fevers. Needles begin to surface which breaks the skin in slow deliberate rows; if broken off then new ones grow back.” “That’s terrible.” “Enough story telling! Hold on tight!” The recon vehicle’s axles shrieked and the frame shuddered as bark scraped against the metal exterior. The subsonic growl of the needle-back was felt more than heard. The click-hiss of teeth and the sound of bone scraping earth could be heard all around us–we were surrounded. Just then we hit a puddle of mud, causing the jeep to hydroplane just as a needle-back lunged towards us. Another needle-back rammed into it just before it could reach the automobile, but a third had taken its place. The impact of the creature’s grasp had snapped me forward, pain flashed white behind my eyes. The beast howled–not rage, not hunger, but something frantic and broken. Another answered. Then another. The sound multiplied until the ruins were alive with it, until the forest itself seemed to hunt us. I tried to scream but nothing came out. My chest locked, breath stuttered uselessly as the weight of the creature bent the frame of the jeep. Someone shouted. Maybe Tod, maybe the driver, I couldn’t be certain. The sound dissolved beneath the scream of tearing metal. “Ahhhh,” cried a voice again. Tod! I thought. I was sure the creature had just gotten Tod. “Carl!” Tod yelled. It was Carl, not Tod–thank God! But it was too late, the creature had gotten a claw in Carl and had yanked him clear off the utility vehicle. I could see the army of needle-backs ascend on poor Carl as we drove away. ************************************************************************************* Rain drummed overhead, steady and cold. It struck broad leaves that stretched far wider than nature ever intended. For a heartbeat, I wasn’t sure where I was. My heart hammered as if it hadn’t realized the chase was over, my hands clawed at the air, searching for torn metal, for blood, for the edge of the door that wasn’t there…for Carl, for Tod, for anyone tangible. But there wasn’t anything. My heart began to beat faster. Where am I? I looked around but couldn’t find anything grounding. Then, I heard his voice. “Anna?” His voice cut through the panic instantly. “Anna, sweetheart? Are you ok? It was a bad dream, hun, a bad dream is all.” I turned my head and saw Tod crouched beside me on the platform, rain-dark hair plastered to his forehead. One hand braced against the wooden planks, the other hovering near my arm–close enough to anchor me, careful enough not to trap me. “You’re in the Web,” he said quietly. “You’re safe now, you’re here with me, Anna dear.” I was intoxicated with sleep and exhaustion. “Tod?” I gripped his hand, clenching it tight, still feeling the sudden jerks and movements of the jeep. I forced myself to breathe, in slow, measured pulls, and matched the rhythm Tod always used when he talked me down. Above us, the canopy of the Dead Zone rose in layered shadows–Douglas firs twisted into the mist, their branches twisted together with rope bridges and scavenged cable. The Web creaked softly as it shifted with the wind, like something sleeping uneasily. “You’re ok, Anna. Breathe.” Tod said in a calm and comforting voice. “I’m here. We’re here together, sweetheart.” I eased into recognition, the fog of slumber still on the forefront of my mind. “You’re in the Web,” Tod continued. “I know,” I finally offered, taking his outstretched hand gently in mine. “Tod?” “Yes, sweetheart?” “I could hear them,” I said, my voice thin. “I thought they had you.” My voice began to crack. Tod scooped me into his arms and held me in a warm embrace. The rain continued to drum around us, falling on the roof of the hut I was sleeping in. It reminded me of mine and Thatcher’s secret garden back in Cryptonia. I dreamed of the day I could find a permanent home where the only thing I could hear was my own heart–and maybe, if I was lucky, the sound of the wind through leaves that weren’t gray with expectation and danger. “Them?” Tod asked. “Yes, them. The Skulldraggers. It was so real, Tod.” I said, still in a sleep-dazed state. “They didn’t get us, remember? We got away. They took Carl, not me, sweet Anna. You and I are safe, for now.” I buried my face into his strong chest, “I remember. I’m awake now.” I finally said. "I sat up, blinking as a million tiny shadows performed a silent, frantic dance across the wooden walls. The sunlit gold didn't just enter; it reclaimed the space, peeking through the cracked window-panes to reach the furthest, dust-moted nooks of the hut’s skeletal frame. Those amber rays stretched like warm fingers, illuminating the succulent plumpness of the vines that clung to the beams, turning the humble sanctuary into a cathedral of light and timber. Outside, a faint aroma of flowers filled the air, offering respite from the pollution of Cryptonia. A gentle rustling of leaves could be heard just beyond the hut’s entrance, creating a rhythm and hum in the canopy above my platform. My hut was a living heart tucked into the bones and veins of the highest reaches of the trees, far out of reach from the prehistoric predators and mutations that governed the forest floor below. Tod’s honey-brown eyes flicked instinctively to the surrounding branches outside my hut. He went out to check once more–he’d done a perimeter sweep every hour on the hour since Anna’s nightmares began a few weeks ago, when they’d first arrived at the Web. He wanted everything to be fine and for me to know that I was safe. The weeks under Bill’s thumb had hollowed me out until I was nothing but a shell of survival; I had reached a point where the prospect of death was a mercy compared to the suffocating walls of his confinement. I was a psychological wreck, a jagged mosaic of nerves and terror. Even in sleep, there was no sanctuary. Nightmares clawed at me—visions of the clinical, soul-stripping halls of the fertility school blurred into the frantic, leaf-slashed memories of our escape. I would wake drenched in sweat, still feeling the weight of the forest pressing against my skin and the phantom shadows of the bunker chasing us all the way to the skeletal heights of the Web. Tod returned, “The perimeter is quiet Anna. No movement. You’re safe dear, you’re safe.” “How long have we been here?” I asked, sleep still blurring the timeline. “A few weeks. Are you sure you’re alright, Anna?” He looked at me sympathetically. “I can get you a drink or something to eat. We don’t have to go to the buzz of the dining hall if you don’t want to.” I looked at him and smiled. “I have everything I need right here,” I pointed at him and motioned for him to come over. “Sit.” Tod strolled over, his towering, commanding presence, a pillar of strength, his broad-shouldered, lean-muscled, imposing silhouette a masterpiece of design and creativity. His chiseled jawline and sharp-angled features were etched with quiet determination; his eyes looked like smoldering honey with how the light danced across his face. I couldn’t help but take all of him in as he moved gracefully towards me. His sun-bronzed skin and crooked smirk told me everything. At that moment, he looked like a god of the old world, a radiant sunbeam trapped inside a cage of ash and iron. He sat down next to me, his warmth radiating through the thin layers of my worn clothes. Inside, butterflies didn't just flutter, they screamed and clawed, battering against my ribs as if trying to break free from the cage of my chest. I gripped the edge of the furs, my knuckles white, fighting to contain the sheer magnetism of his presence. When he turned to me, I was forced to meet his gaze. He looked into my eyes—those grayish-brown mirrors I had always found dull and unremarkable. But in the reflection of his smoldering honey pupils, I saw a stranger. I saw a girl with a curtain of chestnut hair that spilled all the way to her waist like a waterfall of silk against the rough timber of the hut. I saw the shy curve of a mouth that had forgotten how to smile, and the pale, high-arched brow of someone who had spent her life looking for exits. For the first time, I didn't see an "Ashen Daughter" or a piece of Amnosian property. I saw a girl who was soft despite the jagged world around her, a girl who—for all her scars and nightmares—was still undeniably, breathtakingly alive. I was a fractured puzzle of fear and longing, and as he reached out, I realized I was no longer just surviving; I was finally being seen. “Come, Anna. Let’s go and get some breakfast. We have big adventures ahead of us.” “Like what?” I asked, intrigued by his vagueness. “You will see, let’s just go and put some food in your belly first.” “Ok, Tod.” I said, as I leaned in towards him and planted a light kiss on his right cheek. Even as I anchored myself in the solid, sun-warmed reality of Tod, Thatcher remained a haunting silhouette on the horizon of my mind. My heart felt like a territory divided, a map torn between two warring loyalties, and the love I carried for both men was a weight that threatened to pull me under. Being with Tod was an iridescent reprieve—something beyond special, a stolen breath of life—but the guilt followed me like a shadow in the ash. What would Thatcher see if he looked at me now? Would he recognize the girl he’d protected, or would he see only betrayal etched into the way I leaned into Tod’s strength? The questions gnawed at me, sharp and relentless as the drones that circled Cryptonia. Had I truly exercised my own will for the first time, or was I merely drifting toward the nearest harbor? I felt a bone-deep certainty when I was in Tod’s arms, a resonance that shivered through my soul, yet a jagged doubt remained: how could I ever be sure of my choice while Thatcher’s ghost still held the other half of my heart? It sounded absurd, a relic of a world that no longer existed, but I needed his blessing. I needed to see his face, to face the man who had been my North Star, before I could fully commit to this new, golden sun. Until then, my heart was a house divided, waiting for a permission I wasn't even sure I had the right to ask for.