Chapter 23: Into the Drift

Milo's boots sank into the ash with every step, the gray swallowing him ankle-deep as he staggered north. The portable screen glowed faintly under his arm, its map flickering but steady—the northern dot pulsed like a beacon, miles off, a lifeline he couldn't see. His side burned, the makeshift bandage soaked through, and each breath tasted of blood and dust. The forge's hum was a distant echo now, its barrier and turrets fighting a battle he couldn't afford to look back on.The wind howled, kicking up ash in stinging waves, and his cracked goggles barely held it back. Asha's blade banged against his thigh, a rhythm to his faltering pace—keep moving, keep moving. He clung to it, to her voice, because stopping meant dying, and he wasn't ready for that. Not yet.A sharp whine cut through the gale—drones, faint but close. The Overseers hadn't given up; they'd adapted, sending their swarm wide to flank him. He cursed, scanning the terrain. Flat, endless ash stretched ahead, dotted with the bones of old structures—rusted pipes, collapsed roofs, relics of a world the flares had burned away. No cover, no respite.The screen beeped, its voice crackling through static. "Northern relay detected. Five kilometers. Signal weak." Five kilometers. He could make it—if his legs didn't give out if the drones didn't find him first. He adjusted his grip on the device, its weight dragging at his good arm, and pushed on.The ground shifted underfoot, a subtle tremor—not the forge this time, but something else. He froze, listening. A low rumble followed, rolling from the west, and the ash ahead rippled like water disturbed. "Not now," he muttered, but the earth didn't care. A fissure split open fifty yards off, spewing a plume of gray dust, and the rumble grew into a roar.Ash hounds. He'd heard the stories—scavengers said they were machines, leftovers from before the flares, triggered by movement or heat. Others swore they were alive, twisted by the ash into something feral. Either way, they were trouble. Three shapes burst from the fissure, skeletal and jagged, their metal hides glinting as they skittered toward him on clawed legs. Red sensors glowed where the eyes should've been.Milo drew Asha's blade, its edge catching the dim light. "Alright, then," he growled, planting his feet. The first hound lunged, faster than he'd expected, and he swung—metal met metal, the blade biting into its flank. It screeched, a sound like grinding gears, and recoiled, but the other two circled, flanking him.He dodged a claw swipe, rolling into the ash as pain flared in his side. The screen slipped, hitting the ground, and he scrambled for it, slashing at a hound's leg as it lunged. The blade cleaved through, toppling it, but the third pounced, pinning him. Its weight crushed the air from his lungs, claws raking his chest. He roared, driving the blade up into its core—sparks flew, and it collapsed, twitching.Breathing hard, he shoved the carcass off, grabbing the screen. The map flickered, the northern dot brighter now—four kilometers. The drones' whine sharpened overhead, red lights piercing the ash storm. He was out of time.The ground trembled again, but this time it was the forge—a faint pulse, reaching him even here. The screen beeped. "Forge link active. Power at fifteen percent. Directive?"Milo spat blood into the ash, grinning despite himself. "Give me cover."A ripple of blue light surged from the south, faint but enough—the ash thickened, swirling into a wall between him and the drones. Their lights dimmed, their shots going wide. It wouldn't last, but it was a chance. He staggered to his feet, clutching the screen and blade, and ran.The terrain sloped upward, the ash thinning as he climbed. Ahead, a shape loomed through the haze—a tower, taller than the last, its peak crowned with a green light that pulsed steady and strong. The relay. His legs burned, his vision swam, but he pushed harder, the forge's echo urging him on.The drones broke through the ash wall, their whine deafening now. A shot grazed his calf, dropping him to one knee just shy of the tower's base. He crawled, slamming the screen against a console embedded in the structure. "Link it!" he shouted, voice breaking.The console flared, green light flooding the map as the voice replied. "Link established. Forge power at twenty percent. Network expanding."The tower hummed, its light intensifying, and the ground shook as the forge's reach grew. Milo slumped against it, Asha's blade in his lap, watching the drones circle—then falter, their lights flickering as the tower's signal jammed them. One crashed, then another, spiraling into the ash.He laughed, a ragged sound, and looked north. The map showed new lines now, faint but growing, stretching beyond the gray. "We're not done," he whispered, to Asha, to himself. The Overseers were coming, but so was something bigger.