The Waste Takes Two

The Waste stretched endlessly before them, barren and defiant. The wind carried a metallic tang, and the faint shimmer of a distant storm clung to the horizon like a threat not yet fully realized. Sparse outcroppings of jagged rock provided the only breaks in the otherwise flat, cracked expanse.

Sani wiped sweat from her brow, her grip tightening on her staff. “How much longer do we have to go? Feels like this place gets bigger the farther we walk.”

“Big or not, it’s just a place,” Anora said without looking back. Her tone was even but firm. “Keep moving.”

Tanin trailed behind her, his usual bravado muted. He glanced over his shoulder every few steps, uneasy. “You feel that?”

Dren frowned. “Feel what?”

“Like we’re being watched,” Tanin muttered.

Anora stopped abruptly and turned to face him. “Paranoia won’t help us survive out here.”

Before Tanin could reply, a distant sound broke the stillness—a faint mechanical whine, low and rhythmic. It grew louder, and the ground beneath them began to vibrate.

“What is that?” Sani whispered, her voice tense.

Roam stopped in its tracks, its frame stiffening. The faint hum it emitted deepened, a signal that something was wrong.

“Something’s coming,” Dren said, stepping closer to Roam.

Over the next ridge, a swarm of rogue constructs appeared, their twisted frames glinting in the dim light. They moved with jagged precision, some dragging sharp limbs across the ground, others darting forward with unnerving speed.

“Run!” Anora shouted, already turning toward a cluster of rocks for cover.

The group scattered. Sani and Tanin broke off together, their movements frantic. Dren hesitated, glancing back at Roam, who stood its ground.

“We can’t fight those things!” Tanin yelled, his voice breaking.

“They’re herding us!” Anora called out, her breath ragged as she climbed onto a higher ledge.

The constructs closed in fast. One lunged at Sani, its serrated appendage slicing the air. She deflected the blow with her staff, the force nearly knocking her off balance. Tanin swung a crude blade, his strikes wild and desperate.

Dren and Roam moved together, their actions instinctive. Dren grabbed a loose rock and hurled it at an advancing construct, momentarily slowing its approach. Roam, meanwhile, intercepted another with precise, calculated movements, its limbs striking with mechanical efficiency.

But the chaos was overwhelming. One of the constructs feinted, then struck Tanin from the side. He cried out as its blade-like limb pierced his side. Sani turned, her eyes wide with horror.

“Tanin!” she screamed, rushing to his side.

“No—stay back!” he gasped, blood staining the cracked earth beneath him.

Before Sani could reach him, another construct lunged, its spiked frame catching her mid-step. She fell without a sound, the staff slipping from her grasp.

Dren froze, his breath caught in his throat. “No!”

Anora grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the rocks. “We can’t save them! Move!”

Roam hesitated, its frame vibrating with a low hum. It turned to Dren, its posture almost questioning.

“They’re gone!” Anora snapped. “You want to die here too?”

The remaining constructs swarmed over Sani and Tanin’s fallen forms, their movements mechanical and unfeeling. The group’s attackers turned their attention to the survivors, but a sudden shift in the distant wind made them stop. The constructs hesitated, then scattered, retreating into the Waste as if called back by some unseen signal.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Dren dropped to his knees, his fists clenching the dirt. “We could’ve done something,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Anora stood over him, her face hard but her eyes softer than before. “We couldn’t save them. Not here. Not against that.”

Roam moved closer to Dren, its hum returning to a calmer resonance. It extended a limb slightly, not touching him but close enough to feel its presence.

“We need to keep going,” Anora said, her tone brooking no argument. “The Waste doesn’t stop for grief.”

Dren forced himself to his feet, his eyes fixed on the horizon. “Then let’s make it count.”

With Roam at his side, the group pressed on, their ranks thinner but their resolve heavier.