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| This is a comparison of the output from four different LLMs when writing a short story with a total word count target of 9,000 words. | |
| It was generated using the Story Architect System prompt system from Jordan on the Novelcrafter discord. | |
| https://discord.com/channels/1133311989792387162/1327397149616504993 | |
| Using those prompts, I took my initial random idea that I had made up on the spot in one of my Story Hacker Gold group posts: | |
| https://www.skool.com/story-hacker/good-news-from-the-copyright-office?p=7c478988 | |
| ``` | |
| Jake Carr | |
| • 4d | |
| @Raymonda Rice | |
| They seem to make a distinction at the point of output from a prompt. If you take what the prompt gives you and don't alter, edit, or rearrange the output, then it sounds like it's not eligible for copyright. If a human makes creative decisions in the final work, then at least the parts that the human altered in some way are protected. So if you're going through the full process of writing the reader magnet as Jason outlines (for example), that seems like it would be totally safe and copyrightable. | |
| On the other hand, if you're going to chatGPT, typing in "write a book about a wizard who rides a motorcycle", "that's great but make the bike spit flames out of the tailpipes, and they should curl up like a scorpion tail", "now the wizard finds a secret canyon road with no traffic, but there's a magic pothole and he cracks a rim", etc. and just publishing the output, that's not copyrightable no matter how many times you re-prompt to refine the story. | |
| ``` | |
| I started from that initial idea (a book about a wizard who rides a motorcycle, the bike spits flames out of the tailpipes, the wizard finds a secret canyon road with no traffic, but there's a magic pothole). I used a standalone LLM chat interface to brainstorm names for the wizard (Coyote Hex, a.k.a. Chox) and the motorcycle (Revenant, a.k.a. Rev). Everything else has been generated using Story Architect System prompts for the plot, outline, codex entries, chapter/scene summaries, and scene beats. I used the general purpose scene beat completion prompt to get prose for each scene beat in each of ten chapters. I only intervened to adjust one or two egregious mistakes, otherwise everything is as was generated by the LLM. | |
| There should be a scene-by-scene breakdown of each chapter, instead of one scene per chapter, but I believe that's due to human error; I think I missed a step in the SAS prompt system. | |
| In the unedited stories, I added a line break at each new scene beat in a chapter, to make it easier to see how the scene beat instructions influenced the LLM's writing. | |
| 1. Outline, generated using Gemini Flash 2.0 Thinking Experimental | |
| 2. Chapter + Scene outlines, generated using Gemini Flash 2.0 Thinking Experimental | |
| 3. Scene Beat instructions, generated using Gemini Flash 2.0 Thinking Experimental | |
| 4. Unedited story as produced using the Scene Beat Completion / General Purpose prompt and Claude 3.5 Sonnet | |
| 5. Unedited story as produced using the Scene Beat Completion / General Purpose prompt and Nova Pro V1 | |
| 6. Unedited story as produced using the Scene Beat Completion / General Purpose prompt and Qwen Max | |
| 7. Unedited story as produced using the Scene Beat Completion / General Purpose prompt and DeepSeek-R1 Distill Llama 70b | |
| 8. Bonus: Chapter 1, scene beat 1 from nine other LLMs that I didn't choose to write the rest of the book with. |
7. Unedited story as produced using the Scene Beat Completion / General Purpose prompt and DeepSeek-R1 Distill Llama 70b
Chapter 1
The gates exploded with a deafening roar, metal screaming as it twisted outward in a deadly flower of sparks and shrapnel. Coyote Hex leaned into the chaos, Rev's engine bellowing like a predatory beast as they surged forward. The world narrowed to a tunnel of noise—crunching metal, shrieking alarms, and the sharp crackle of magical fallout. Debris rained down, a deadly hailstorm that clanged against Rev's chrome hide, each impact a sharp, ringing note in the symphony of mayhem.
Rev's tires bit into the asphalt, speeding through the wreckage as if birthed from the explosion itself. Coyote felt the bike shudder with raw power beneath him, the handlebars thrumming in his grip like a live current. Behind them, the facility’s alarms wailed, their piercing howls mingling with the distant roar of pursuit. Ahead, the dark silhouette of the mountains loomed, jagged and unyielding.
The road unfurled before them, a ribbon of escape coiling into the night. Rev’s tailpipes growled, spitting short bursts of flame as they devoured the distance. The wind lashed at Coyote’s face, sharp and cold, filled with the acrid tang of burnt magic and gasoline. Somewhere in the chaos, a faint hum began to build—a low, ominous drone that wasn’t quite part of the alarms.
A blinding streak of magical energy lanced down from the security tower, a jagged spear of blue-white light that seemed to crackle with ozone and malice. Coyote’s instincts screamed too late—Rev reacted first.
The bike twitched sharply to the left, and for half a heartbeat, the world seemed to slow. Rev’s chrome surface flared like molten silver, a mirror-bright sheen that stretched and rippled as the magical attack struck. The light bent, warped, and then exploded in a riot of color, a kaleidoscope of reflected energy that boiled outward in a perfect, eerie circle.
The sound was like shattering glass, a million fragile notes screaming in unison. The reflected magic tore back toward the tower, spiraling wildly, and for a moment, it seemed to hover—alive, writhing, and furious. Then it detonated.
The tower’s reinforced walls buckled as the magic shredded them, brick and steel unraveling like paper in a hurricane. Sparks cascaded, a waterfall of fire, as the structure groaned and collapsing in on itself. A deep, guttural crunch echoed through the night, punctuated by the sharp, brittle snap of power lines flaring to life.
Rev surged forward, tires screeching as Coyote leaned into the bend, his gut dropping with the sharp turn. The road ahead cleared, and the bike arrowed forward, leaving the flaming wreckage of the tower in their wake.
“Hell of a parlor trick you got there,” Coyote muttered, his voice lost in the wind. Rev’s engine growled, a low, approving rumble.
The chase wasn’t over—sirens wailed in the distance, sharper now, closing in. But for this moment, the road was theirs, and the night was full of speed and fire and the hum of magic still crackling in the air.
Coyote Hex leaned into the bend, the asphalt unwinding before him like a black snake fleeing the inferno they'd left behind. Rev's tires hummed against the road, a rhythmic growl that matched the pounding in Chox's chest. The air was alive with the acrid tang of smoke and the faint metallic scent of burnt magic.
A swarm of lights erupted in the rearview, flickering like angry fireflies. A security vehicle, its armor gleaming under the moonlight, was gaining on them. Chox could hear the distant wail of sirens, a persistent howl that cut through the night. He felt Rev tense, the bike's frame vibrating with anticipation, as if it were a coiled predator ready to strike.
Chox's gloved hands tightened on the handlebars. He didn't need to think; Rev already knew. The bike's rear dipped slightly, and from the tailpipes, twin curling tendrils of metal emerged, resembling a serpent's fangs. The engine growled, lower and deeper, a sound that seemed to rumble through the earth itself.
A burst of flame erupted, a molten blade that sliced through the night. The flames engulfed the vehicle, wrapping it in a fiery embrace. The explosion was visceral, a deafening roar that sent shards of metal flying, illuminating the dark sky with a brief, eerie light. The vehicle careened off the road, a blazing wreck that spat sparks and smoke into the air.
For a moment, the road ahead was clear, the only sound the diminishing echo of the explosion. Then, the facility's floodlights flickered to life, casting long shadows across the asphalt. Chox felt a surge of adrenaline, his jaw tightening as he leaned forward, urging Rev onward. The escape wasn't over—not yet.
The floodlights slammed on, stripping the night of its shadows. White light scorched the asphalt, casting long, stark lines across the ground. Rev's chrome gleamed like blood in the harsh glare. Coyote squinted, his silhouette knife-sharp against the brilliance.
From the facility, figures emerged. The private military contractors moved with the precision of clockwork, their shadows cast long and ominous. Black tactical armor absorbed the light, save for the faint, otherworldly glow tracing their gear—magic woven into metal. Rifles gleamed with Prizefighter scopes, and their movements were sharp, calculated. No shouting, no hesitation. They fanned out, forming a lethal perimeter.
A getState leader jerked a hand, and the group split. Two peeled off to flank, boots crisp on the asphalt. Their eyes were hidden behind visors, but their aim was steady. Coyote's gut tightened. Rev's engine snarled, a low, guttural warning. The contractors' leader stepped forward, a gauntlet on their wrist flickering with blue light. A spellcannon? Worse than standard gear.
"F runners don't get lucky," Coyote muttered, teeth clenched. Rev surged under him, coiled power. A fixation charm? Containment? He didn't wait to find out. The contractors moved like predators, calculated and unstoppable. No negotiations. No mistakes. They were here to end this.
Coyote leaned into the bend, Rev's tires shrieking against the asphalt. Behind him, boots pounded, the contractors giving chase. Time stretched, every heartbeat a ticking clock. He could smell the coolant burning, the acrid tang of magic. The engine roared, a primal, furious sound.
For a moment, he thought he'd lost them. Then, a shot cracked the air. Rev's handlebars jerked in his hands, a spark flying as the chrome deflected the hit. The bike wobbled, but Coyote gritted his teeth, gripping tighter. "Hell of a night, huh?" he growled, breathless.
Ahead, the road vanished into darkness. Behind, the contractors closed in. The sirens were louder now, closer. His world narrowed to the strip of asphalt and the roar of Rev's engine. He twisted the throttle, adrenaline spiking as the bike surged forward.
The floodlights faded into the distance, but their glare lingered. Coyote glanced in the rearview—shadows moving, relentless. They weren't giving up. The night air whipped his face, cold and sharp. His jaw hurt, his heart pounded in his ears. The road twisted ahead, a serpentine escape through the mountains. For now, it was his only shot.
Chapter 2
The engine’s whine sawed through the air, Rev’s tires biting into the asphalt as the mountain road unwound in a frantic blur. Chox’s face stung from the wind’s lash, his leather jacket flapping like wings behind him. The world narrowed to speed and survival, the facility’s sprawl fading into the rearview.
A flicker of red and blue cut through the darkness ahead. Chox’s gut tightened. The lights painted the rocks in wild, dancing strokes, growing brighter with every yard eaten by Rev’s relentless charge. A roadblock materialized from the shadows—squad cars angled across the road, their doors open like the jaws of traps. Agents in tactical vests moved with practiced precision, boots crunching on gravel as they fanned out behind the barriers.
Chox’s eyes locked onto the barricade, his mind racing. The road was a bottleneck here, the cliffs rising steeply on one side and dropping sharply on the other. No way around. Rev’s engine growled, as if sensing the trap.
The agents raised their weapons, voices carrying over the roar of the wind. “Halt! FBI! Pull over and shut off the engine!”
Chox’s jaw set. The roadblock was solid, the agents’ stance unyielding. Behind him, the facility’s pursuit was gaining—he could hear the distant rumble of tires, the faint crackle of radios.
Rev surged forward, a coiled spring of steel and fury. The mountain road stretched ahead, a gauntlet of lights and weapons. Chox’s heart pounded in his ears, his breath sharp and cold. The agents stepped forward, their voices louder, more insistent.
“Nowhere to go, Hex!” one barked, their hand resting on the butt of their sidearm. “Step off the bike!”
Rev’s engine revved, a low, ominous growl. The roadblock loomed, a wall of stone and steel. Chox’s fingers tightened on the throttle, his mind racing. The agents’ eyes were hard, unyielding. He could smell the sharp tang of gun oil and the faint metallic bite of the night air.
The world narrowed to the space between Rev and the barricade, the agents’ shouted commands, and the ticking clock of time running out.
The world detonated in a cacophony of fire and steel. One second, the FBI agents were shouting orders; the next, the mountain road erupted in a symphony of explosions. A rocket-propelled grenade screamed in, slamming into the barricade with a deafening crump. The squad cars disintegrated, their metal twisting and melting like wax in a blast furnace. Chox’s head snapped back as the shockwave punched through the air, the stench of burning rubber and scorched earth filling his lungs.
Behind the inferno, the PMCs descended like a storm. Black tactical vehicles, bristling with weapons, skidded onto the scene. Chox glimpsed the glint of magical runes etched into the armor plating, pulsating with an unnatural energy. Men in black gear leapt out, their movements precise, untouched by the chaos they’d unleashed. They moved with the ruthless efficiency of machines, their weapons spitting fire and lightning that shredded the remaining FBI vehicles. The agents’ screams were short-lived, cut off as a wave of magical force obliterated the roadblock entirely, leaving only smoking craters and twisted metal.
Chox’s stomach twisted. Rev’s engine hitched, a low, guttural growl that vibrated through the frame. A hand-sized chunk of asphalt slammed into his shoulder, the impact sharp but manageable. His eyes darted toward the PMCs, their formation spreading out like a noose closing around him. The whump of explosions echoed off the cliffs, and the air glowed sickly with the residue of magic.
Rev’s handlebars jittered, a quick, sharp movement that Chox felt in his bones. He didn’t need to think; he leaned into the bike, trusting Rev’s instincts. The PMCs were a tidal wave of destruction, and he was right in their path.
The road quaked under Rev’s tires, the bike shuddering like a restless animal as the PMCs’ destruction ripped the air. Chox’s ears rang from the blasts, but beneath the chaos, he felt it—a subtle thrum in Rev’s frame. It was a vibration, not a sound, a pulse that hummed through the handlebars and into his bones. Almost imperceptible, almost a thought, it spoke of hidden paths and shadows waiting to swallow them whole.
His fingers tightened on the grips, his breath sharp in the cold air. Rev’s engine didn’t roar; it muttered, a low, steady growl that seemed to carry a question. Chox didn’t need words. The bike had always spoken its own language—one of steel, heat, and the shared rhythm of survival. He leaned forward, his jaw set, his eyes flicking toward the cliffs. There, a break in the rock, barely visible through the smoke and debris—a narrow turn-off, half-hidden in the mountain’s shadow.
Behind them, the PMCs were a storm of fire and steel, their magic-tinged weapons clawing the air. They hadn’t noticed the bike’s hesitation, too caught in their destruction. Chox’s gut tightened. The roadblock was gone, but the real danger wasn’t the PMCs—it was the delay. Every second was a leash snapping shorter.
Rev’s handlebars twitched, a small, sharp movement that Chox felt like a nudge in his chest. He didn’t argue. The bike knew the way. Together, they leaned into a sharp turn, the tires hugging the asphalt as they veered toward the hidden path. The mountain swallowed them whole, the path narrowing into darkness. For a moment, the world behind them faded into the roar of the engine and the crunch of gravel beneath their tires.
Then, the silence of the mountain closed in.
Chapter 3
The road unwound ahead like liquid poetry, every curve a sculpted ribbon of asphalt that begged to be devoured. Coyote Hex leaned into the bends with a practiced ease, the tires humming a smooth, almost musical note against the perfection of the surface. The air was crisp, the sky a deep, unbroken black, and the stars cast just enough light to make the ride feel like a glide through the heavens. No potholes, no debris, no signs of wear—just a flawless stretch of road carved through the canyon like a promise of escape.
Rev purred beneath him, the engine’s steady thrum a reassuring heartbeat. But beneath the harmony, something Discordant nagged at the edge of Coyote’s awareness. He couldn’t place it, but it was there—a faint, almost imperceptible hitch in the rhythm, like a misspoken word in an otherwise flawless sentence. His fingers tightened on the grips, his thumb brushing the throttle out of habit. Rev always sounded sweet when she was happy, and right now, she should’ve been singing. But that hitch... It wasn’t quite right.
The canyon walls rose on either side, their jagged silhouettes biting into the starlight. The air carried a faint, unnatural stillness, as if the world itself were holding its breath. Coyote’s gut tightened, but he shook it off. The road was perfect, Rev was running smooth, and for the first time tonight, they weren’t being shot at. It was too good to be true.
His eyes narrowed against the wind, scanning the stretch ahead. The road twisted and turned, each curve flawless, each banked just right. Too right. No road was this perfect, not in the real world. It felt... designed. Crafted. Like it had been molded by some obsessive hand to be the ultimate rider’s fantasy. But why here? Who would build a road in the middle of nowhere and leave it looking like it’d been kissed by gods?
Rev’s engine hummed again, that faint discordance flaring and dying. Coyote’s jaw clenched. He knew every sound she made, every quiver in her frame. This wasn’t just his imagination. Something was off. He leaned back, easing off the throttle, and let the bike slow. The silence that followed was heavy, oppressive, like the canyon itself was listening.
He didn’t like it. Not one damn bit.
The silence slammed down like a fist, heavy and unyielding. One second, the thrum of Rev’s engine and the soft roar of the wind filled the air. The next, nothing. No hum of tires, no distant rumble of pursuit, no crunch of gravel beneath the bike. Just a suffocating stillness that pressed against Coyote’s eardrums. He glanced over his shoulder, his gut twitching like a trapped animal. The road behind was empty, swallowed by darkness so complete it felt like a living thing.
He turned back, his grip on the handlebars tightening. Rev seemed to sense his unease, her engine hiccuping once before settling into a low, cautious purr. The road ahead twisted sharply, the perfect asphalt glinting like liquid obsidian under the starlight. Too perfect. It hit him now, the way the curves seemed to anticipate their movement, the way the road appeared to shift—alive, sinuous, like a snake coiling around them.
The canyon walls began to change, their jagged tops sharpening into teeth-like formations that loomed closer, the gaps between them narrowing until they formed a tunnel of rock. The air grew colder, heavier, thick with the scent of ozone and something else—something sharp, acrid, and unnatural. Coyote’s skin prickled, his breath catching in his throat. He leaned back, easing off the throttle, but Rev didn’t slow. She seemed to hum with reluctance, as though she too sensed the trap, but the road stretched out before them like a gauntlet.
A faint, golden light tinged the eastern sky, the first hints of dawn bleeding over the horizon. It cast long shadows across the road, twisting the perfect asphalt into something grotesque. Coyote’s jaw clenched. They couldn’t afford to linger. The USB drive weighed heavy in his pocket, a constant reminder of the ticking clock. But the road—damn the road—seemed determined to keep them here.
He felt it then, a presence. Not behind, not ahead, but everywhere. The air seemed to vibrate with it, a low, unseen hum that crawled under his skin and dug in with icy claws. His eyes darted to the canyon walls, the shadows, the stretches of road that seemed to pulse with a malevolent life of their own. Nothing moved. Nothing showed itself. But the feeling grew, oppressive and suffocating, until Coyote could swear he felt eyes on the back of his neck.
Rev’s engine growled, a low, protective sound, and Coyote leaned forward, squeezing the throttle. The bike surged ahead, but the road stretched on, endless and twisting, each curve leading them deeper into the heart of the canyon. The presence closed in, unseen but undeniable, its weight pressing down until Coyote’s breath came in sharp, strained gasps. He knew they were being herded, funneled toward something. But toward what, he couldn’t say. All he knew was that the road had become a trap, and they were running out of time.
Chapter 4
Rev surged sharply to the left, and for a split second, Coyote was a passenger, his body reacting before his mind caught up. The seat vibrated under him, a smooth, almost intuitive swerve that could have been part of the road itself if it weren’t for the sudden tug in his gut. He glanced down, his fingers tightening on the grips as he scanned the asphalt.
There, in the middle of the otherwise flawless road, was a pothole. Just a pothole, he told himself. But his breath hitched anyway. It wasn’t the size that caught his attention—though it was big enough to rattle teeth—it was the way the light hit it. The surface shimmered, like oil on water, but it wasn’t oil. It was too viscous, too still, and yet it seemed to shift, ever so slightly, as if it were alive. The edges were too sharp, too clean, cutting into the perfect asphalt with eerie precision.
Coyote squinted, his goggles tilting as he leaned forward. The road here seemed to dip unnaturally, as though the ground itself had sighed and sunk beneath the surface. He could swear the pothole moved—a slight, almost imperceptible ripple along its edge—but when he blinked, it was still. Just a hole. Just a goddamn pothole.
But Rev didn’t think so. Her engine dropped to a low, thrumming growl, the sound grinding against his ears like gravel in a blender. The chrome handlebars caught the faint moonlight and flashed it back at him in uneven bursts, like Morse code for trouble. Coyote didn’t need to hear her speak; he could feel it in the way she hesitated, the faint stutter in her purr, as though she were holding her breath.
He let off the throttle, slowing just enough to give the pothole a wary berth. The road seemed to stretch around them, the silence swallowing the echo of their engine. For a moment, everything felt off-kilter, as though the world had tilted on its axis and was waiting to see what he’d do next.
Rev’s chrome flared again, the light catching in jagged, unnatural angles, and beneath him, her engine growled once more—a low, protective sound that told him, louder than words, that something wasn’t right.
Coyote Hex leaned into the curve, the roar of Rev's engine echoing off the canyon walls. The road ahead was a ribbon of asphalt, weaving through the ancient stone like a predator stalking its prey. But it was the fragments that caught his eye—gleaming slivers of chrome scattered along the road, like the aftermath of a battle. Not mere decorations, these were jagged and twisted, remnants of vehicles that had met some unknown fate. They lay scattered, telling a tale of forceful impact, their edges sharp against the velvet night.
His gaze lingered on the stains ahead, dark splatters across the asphalt. They glistened under the moonlight, their texture ambiguous. Oil or something else? The uncertainty hung heavy, a silent threat that clung to the air like a mist. The world seemed to watch, holding its breath in anticipation of something dreadful.
Under his gloves, a tingling began in his fingertips, faint at first, like the whisper of a storm in the distance. It grew with each heartbeat, a prickling warmth that spread through his hands, a warning his body couldn't ignore. His breath quickened, the cold air biting at his lungs, as the magic in the air thickened, oppressive and heavy.
Rev's engine growled, a low, protective note, sensing the darkness gathering like a fog. The canyon walls seemed closer now, their shadows stretching, alive. The air was thick with an unnatural silence, a stillness that felt alive, watching. Coyote tightened his grip on the handlebars, the leather creaking under his touch, the world holding its breath.
In this oppressive quiet, the idyllic road transformed into a path of foreboding, each second a ticking clock, building dread with each passing moment. The beauty of the canyon was now a facade, a veil over something sinister waiting to strike.
Chapter 5
Coyote Hex twisted his torso, glancing over his shoulder at the road behind. The perfect asphalt unwound into the dark, but something about it itched at the back of his neck. He could feel it—thin spider legs of unease crawling up his spine. The road didn’t feel right anymore. The air felt too heavy, the silence too deliberate.
“Time to go back,” he muttered to himself, reaching down to pat Rev’s fuel tank. His voice was low and rough, barely audible over the hum of her engine. Rev’s headlamp flickered once, as though acknowledging the command, but she didn’t move. Her engine sputtered, a strange, uneven cough that made Coyote frown.
“C’mon, Rev,” he grouched, shifting his weight. “Let’s roll the hell outta here.”
But Rev hesitated. Her rear wheel twitched, her frame shuddering lightly. It was a pause so brief, so slight, that it might have been imagination—if Coyote hadn’t spent a lifetime attuned to her every quiver. He tightened his grip on the handlebars, his calloused palms pressing against the worn leather.
“Rev—”
She moved, finally, with a lurch that sent a jolt through his spine. The bike swung around in a wide arc, her tires crunching against the gravel at the road’s edge. Coyote expected resistance, but the bike turned sluggishly, as though pushing through something thick and unseen. The maneuver felt wrong, unnatural, like steering a boat through quicksand. Rev’s engine growled in protest, her exhaust notes disjointed and uneven.
And then, as Coyote straightened them out on the reverse path, the world behind them changed.
The road twisted. Impossible angles erupted from the asphalt, as though the ground itself had been folded and warped like molten glass. Coyote’s stomach dropped as he glanced back—what had been a straight, narrowing path now writhed like a snake, coils of blacktop looping over and under each other in ways that defied every law of nature. The sight hit him like a punch to the gut, his breath catching in his throat.
“What the fuck—” he didn’t finish. His voice died as the road ahead of them seemed to ripple, the perfect surface warping like water hit by a stone. The pothole reappeared, but not just one—dozens, their inky surfaces glimmering in the moonlight. They slid across the asphalt like living things, their edges undulating as they moved. Some Expanded, contracting, as though breathing.
Rev shuddered beneath him, her frame lurching violently. The handlebars jerked in his hands, nearly tearing free of his grip. Coyote’s heart pounded as he struggled to steady her, his knuckles pale against the chrome. Her engine sputtered, coughing out a sharp, chattering rhythm that sounded almost like fear. He could feel her straining, her mechanical body fighting against some invisible force that Coyote couldn’t see but could damn well feel.
“Rev, what’s—” he bit off the question as the road ahead seemed to tilt, the horizon spinning like a carnival ride. His stomach lurched with the motion, his inner ear screaming in protest. The canyon walls blurred around them, their outlines shifting and melting into impossible shapes. The world had gone mad.
From behind, the sound of pursuit returned—but wrong. The engine noises were too low, too resonant, like they were filtering through water or something thicker. They echoed unnaturally, overlapping and clashing in ways that made his teeth ache. Coyote didn’t dare look back. He could feel the weight of unseen eyes on him, pressing down like a physical force.
The sky overhead had darkened, the stars hidden behind a thick, oppressive haze that seemed to pulse with a malevolent life of its own. Dawn was supposed to be coming, but instead the world was sinking deeper into shadows, as though night itself was swallowing them whole.
Coyote’s breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, his mind racing. He could feel it now—unseen, watching, herding them. Whatever this thing was, it knew these roads. It knew how to trap them. And Coyote Hex, for the first time in a very long time, felt like prey.
Chapter 6
The pothole wasn’t there, and then it was—black, yawning, and ravenous. Rev’s front tire vanished into its depths before Coyote could react, the impact a gut-wrenching collision of screaming metal and jagged stone. The chassis buckled with a sickening crunch, the handlebars wrenched from his grip as he was flung forward. Rev’s body took the brunt of it, her frame mangled, her chrome twisting like paper in a fist.
For a moment, there was no air in his lungs, no sound but the screech of tortured metal and the wet, guttural thud of impact. Blood stung his tongue, and the world blurred around the edges. When his vision snapped back into focus, he was pinned to Rev’s crippled frame, the heat of her engine singeing his arms. The pothole glistened with a sickly, unnatural glow, tendrils of oil-slick magic curling around her wheels like alive.
Then her chrome started to dull. Fast. Tarnished streaks zigzagged across her surface, spreading like rot as the magic clawed its way into her. The once-smooth surfaces cracked, splintered, and slivered into jagged edges sharp enough to cut. Rev’s pipes hacked out a guttural stutter, a sound like a dying breath, and her lights flickered—once, twice—before plunging them into murky twilight.
But the worst was the sound she made—a low, growling hum that vibrated through the air like a storm warning. It wasn’t her engine, not anymore. It was something else, something raw and spitting and alive. The pothole pulsed with it, a surprise wave of dirty green light that lashed at her chrome and sparked bright, acrid aftermaths of ozone and burned fuel.
Coyote grabbed for the handlebars, digging blood into the raw metal. “Rev—”
The word gargled to a halt in his throat. Her frame jerked again, hard, yanking him forward so his grip almost failed. The pothole was inside her now, twisting and writhing like a snake anchored to her hacked-up frame. He could feel it, a damp, crawling presence soiling the sickened beat of her engine. Her headlamp flickered once, casting eerie, disjointed light over the dark, glimmering expanse.
“ REV!” He screamed it, his hands clawing futilely at slick metal. Her engine spasmed, coughed, spat, and died. The light blacked out. The vibration stopped.
In the hollow silence, the pothole’s dark, living pulse was all that remained. And Coyote knew, in his gut-kicked sick way, that she was gone.
Coyote Hex threw himself off the twisted frame before the bike even stopped moving. His boots skidded on the glossy blacktop, knees bending to absorb the impact as his hands clawed at Rev’s mangled handlebars. The air stank of scorched metal and something sicklysweet, like gasoline mixed with decay. Fluids dripped in thick, viscous streams from the cracks in her engine, pooling on the ground in a shimmering, iridescent puddle that reflected the faint, eerie glow of the pothole.
He yanked on the bars, muscle straining in his arms, but Rev didn’t budge. The pothole had her, its edges clamped around her front wheel like a predator’s jaws. Coyote cursed through clenched teeth, spitting blood as he flung himself at the bike again. He grabbed the frame, lifting and twisting with every ounce of strength he had, but it was like trying to pry open the maw of the earth itself. The metal groaned, warped further, but she didn’t move.
Rev’s engine roared to life, a deafening, ear-splitting bellow that echoed off the canyon walls. Her pipes glowed with a sickly, unnatural light as she fought, the frame shimmying and bucking like a living thing. For a heartbeat, Coyote thought it might work—her tires smoked, Icons of torque and fury as she strained against the pothole’s grip. But the ground held fast, unyielding and monstrous, and Rev’s struggles grew weaker, her sound sputtering into a choked, guttural cough.
Her light flickered once more, died, and left them bathed in the dim, greenish glow of the pothole.
“Damn it!” Coyote slammed his fists on the ground, the crack echoing Sharp through the stillness. He glared at the damage, breath heaving, sweat dripping into his eyes. He grabbed his wrench from his clever pocket, testing its weight, before realizing how useless it was. Magic. It was always magic.
He rocked back on his heels, jaw clenched, and stared at the shimmering, blackened edge of the pothole. His hand found the chain of symbols around his neck, fingers tightening until the metal bit into his palm.
Brute force wasn’t going to get her out.
He needed a better idea. And fast.
Chox stepped back, his boots scuffling against the blacktop, and wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. His breathing steadied, and his sharp, Survival-honed instincts shifted from desperation to calculation. He squared his stance, his hands resting on his hips, and narrowed his eyes at the pothole. Time to stop growling at the problem and start reading it.
He muttered under his breath, a curt, precise phrase, and flicked his fingers outward. A faint, flickering light coalesced around his hands, like gnats circling a porch lamp. The glow was pale and erratic, tinged with a sickly green hue, but it clung to the edges of the pothole and Rev’s twisted frame. Symbols in his mind lit up with the familiar burn of casting, his gut twisting as the spell anchored. He could feel the magic now, a gnarled, crawling energy that made his teeth hurt. It wasn’t a spell, not exactly—it was alive.
The pothole pulsed faintly under the diagnostic glow, its edge writhing like a snake’s tongue tasting the air. Chox’s spell stuttered where it met the pothole’s surface, as though his magic was being swallowed whole. The bike’s aura flared unstable, her chrome reflecting the flickering light in fractured, nightmarish patterns. Rev’s energy was a tangle of sharp edges and raw wounds, her semi-sentient magic clawing at the pothole’s grip with all the futility of a mouse in a snake’s coils.
Chox’s jaw tightened as he reached deeper, probing the edges of the trap. The pothole’s magic was old, its power dredged from somewhere primal and black. It had the stench of ancient, buried things and the cold weight of stone. He could taste its indifference, feel the way it treated Rev’s struggle as nothing more than a passing amusement.
The diagnostic spell sputtered again, his control wavering under the sheer oppressive weight of the pothole’s energy. He steadied himself with a slow breath and switched tactics, moving into a dispelling incantation. His words were sharp and guttural, each syllable a lash aimed at the heart of the trap. The flickering light in his hands sharpened, coalesced, and snapped forward with a brittle crackle.
The pothole didn’t even flinch.
The road twisted around them like a snake coiling tighter, the asphalt rippling as though alive. The surface shimmered with a malevolent heat haze, distortion waves that made the mountains beyond blur and writhe. The air hung heavy, thick with the stench of burnt fuel and something worse—something like decay, but sharper, more predatory. The pothole pulsed steadily, its edges squirming outward, tendrils of blackened magic probing the ground like grasping fingers. The sound it made was low, resonant, a hum that vibrated through the soles of Coyote’s boots and into his bones. It was a sound that spoke of hunger.
Rev’s frame shuddered again, her pipes exhaling a raw, guttural growl as she strained against the pothole’s grip. Her tires smoked, the rubber squealing in protest as she tried to twist free, but the road itself seemed to shift, the surface slickening with an oily film that denied her traction. The pothole wasn’t just a trap—it was a predator, and it knew its prey. Every time Rev surged forward, the ground adapted, the asphalt hardening like a vice around her wheel. Every lean, every desperate swerve, was met with a countermove, the road anticipating her like a living, breathing opponent.
Coyote’s breath came harder, his chest tight, as he watched Rev’s struggles grow more frantic. Her engine revved, high-pitched and desperation-sharp, but the sound was swallowed by the oppressive weight of the canyon. The walls seemed to closing in, the air pressing down, and the faint, sickly glow of the pothole cast long, distorted shadows that stretched and twisted like living things. He could feel the weight of it, the crushing certainty that this was the end. There was no escape, no trick, no charm or spell or bullet that could get them out of this. They were caught, and the road wasn’t letting go.
His gaze locked on the pothole, the way it seemed to pulse with a malignant life, and for the first time in years, Coyote Hex felt the cold, slick grip of true fear. It wasn’t just the trap that scared him—it was the absolute certainty of it. This wasn’t just a hole in the road. It was a mouth, a maw, a waiting grave. And they were right in the middle of it.
Trapped. The word echoed in his mind, bitter and final. Completely, utterly trapped.
Chapter 7
The road held Revenant like a vice, her twisted frame trembling as the pothole’s magic crawled over her like a living shroud. Chox crouched beside her, the weight of the air pressing down on his chest like an anvil, his breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts. The diagnostic spell still flickered in his hand, but it might as well have been a candle in a hurricane. The creature beneath the road stirred, its presence a sickness in the air, a rotten sweetness that clung to the back of his throat. He could feel it, a thrumming, unnatural heartbeat that didn’t belong in this world.
Then it came.
The surface of the road bulged, the asphalt cracking like skin stretched to its limits. Something writhed beneath, a mass of shadow and twisted, too-angular limbs. The pothole pulsed faster, its glow sickly and sue-like, as the creature clawed its way free. It emerged with a wet, tearing sound, like flesh being ripped from bone. The air seemed to bend around it, as though reality itself recoiled from its presence.
The Entity was small, no bigger than a child, but its form was wrong—too many joints, too few, or perhaps just enough to make it look like something that had been born from a nightmare. Its skin glistened with a substance that looked like motor oil and blood, and its limbs ended in jagged, claw-like protrusions. Its head was too large, its mouth a slash filled with teeth that seemed to be constantly moving, shifting like a puzzle. The eyes glowed, faint and yellow, like embers from a fire that had burned out centuries ago.
It made a sound.
The guttural, wet rasp of its voice hit Chox like a punch to the gut, every syllable a physical assault that left him breathless and disoriented. The words were incomprehensible, a jumble of growls and clicks that grated against his eardrums and left his head ringing. But it wasn’t just the sound—the language itself was alive, a crawling, suffocating thing that clawed at his mind and left his magic raw and twisting in his chest. He staggered back, his free hand clamping over his ear as though that could block the sound, but it was inside him now, writhing like a snake in his skull.
Revenant shuddered, her chrome surfaces dull and tarnished, as the Entity’s claws flexed. The creature’s attention locked onto her, its twisted body tilting to one side as it regarded her with an unblinking, alien curiosity. The pothole’s grip tightened, and her tires screamed again, the sound high-pitched and desperate.
The creature savaged Revenant like a rabid animal, its claws tearing through chrome and steel with a sickening screech. Each strike landed with a brutal precision, denting fenders and ripping through wiring. Sparks flew as metal screamed in protest, the sound echoing through the canyon like a death knell. Revenant shuddered under the assault, her engine sputtering as the creature’s claws raked across her gas tank, leaving jagged gashes that seeped a faint, glittering fluid. The pothole’s grip tightened, as though feeding off her pain, its glow pulsing in sync with the creature’s frenzied attacks.
The air reeked of burning oil and ozone, the stench coating Chox’s lungs like tar. He winced with every hit, his hand instinctively reaching for Revenant as if he could will the damage away. But the creature was relentless, its blows coming faster, harder, each one aimed with a vicious intent that belied its small size. Revenant’s tire wailed again, the sound ear-piercing, as the creature’s claws dug into her frame, twisting metal like it was clay.
Then, in the chaos, the jostling of Chox’s pocket dislodged something. The USB drive slid free, clattering onto the road with a sharp, ringing sound. It skidded to a stop just beyond the pothole’s edge, glinting faintly in the sickly light.
The Entity’s head snapped toward it. Its body froze, twisted mid-strike, as though it had been yanked on an invisible leash. The claws hovering over Revenant’s mangled frame hesitated, then withdrew, its attention utterly hijacked. The creature’s gaze locked onto the drive with an unnerving intensity, its glowing eyes narrowing as though dissecting it from afar. The guttural sounds it made now were low, almost thoughtful, a predatory hum that vibrated through the air.
Chox stared, disbelief warring with dread. The shift was instantaneous, complete—Revenant forgotten, the drive now the sole focus of the creature’s unnerving fascination. It moved toward it with a jerky, unnatural gait, its limbs twitching as though drawn by a magnetic pull. For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the drive’s metal casing and the creature’s wet, breathing rasp.
And in that moment, something clicked. The drive wasn’t just a distraction—it was a target. Something the creature wanted more than their destruction. Chox’s mind raced, piecing together the implications with a grim clarity. The drive’s importance wasn’t just for the corporations back in the real world—it was bait. And they’d just dangled it in front of something far, far worse.
Chox’s breath hitched as the Entity’s claws hovered over Revenant’s mangled frame. His fingers twitched, the USB drive pressing into his palm like a hot coal. He could feel its edges digging into his skin, a sharp reminder of what it represented. Let it go, a voice in his head screamed. Let it go and run. But his fingers tightened instead, a stubborn reflex he couldn’t shake.
His gaze darted to Revenant, her chrome surfaces dull and tarnished, her engine sputtering like a dying animal. The creature’s claws flexed again, and Chox flinched, the motion instinctive. She can’t take much more, he thought, the words razor-sharp in his mind. If I don’t act, she’s done. But then his eyes flicked to the drive, the faint gleam of its metal catching the sickly light of the pothole. It’s just a drive, he told himself, the lie bitter on his tongue. Just a hunk of metal and data. She’s Rev.
The Entity’s guttural growls cut through the air, its attention still fixed on the drive. Chox’s thoughts raced, a reckless plan forming in the chaos of his mind. If I throw it, maybe it’ll chase the drive instead of her. Maybe it’ll give me time. But then what? He couldn’t outrun it, not with the road shifting like a living thing. And if it doesn’t? If it doesn’t fall for it? The weight of the drive in his hand felt heavier, a constant reminder of the stakes. She’s Rev, he thought again, the words a desperate mantra. She’s all I’ve got.
His jaw clenched, the muscles in his face tightening like a vice. The Entity took another step closer to the drive, its claws flexing in a way that made Chox’s gut twist. I’m not gonna lose her, he told himself, the words hard and final. Not for this. Not for anything. Slowly, deliberately, he closed his fingers around the drive, the metal digging into his calloused palm. It was a small, defiant gesture, but it was enough.
The Entity’s claws froze mid-air, its guttural rasp cutting off sharp. Its twisted body twitched violently—unnatural, jerky spasms that made it look like a puppet yanked by frantic strings. Its glowing eyes darted in every direction, the ember-like light flickering with a manic energy. For a moment, it seemed to forget Revenant entirely, its attention snapping toward the dark curve of the road ahead. Its growls turned high-pitched, a whining, panicked noise that grated against Chox’s ears like nails on steel.
Then it moved. Fast. Its claws tore into Revenant with frantic, desperate strokes, no longer precise or predatory—just wild, flailing strikes. Metal shrieked again as it clawed and dragged at her frame, its movements erratic andDriven by fear, not hunger. The pothole pulsed desperately now, its hold tightening as though trying to yank her down, down into the dark beneath the road.
Chox’s gut tightened. Whatever was coming, it was worse than the Entity.
Chapter 8
Chox’s hand flicked outward, the motion sharp and precise. A dispensing spell, simple, something he’d done a thousand times. His fingers brushed the air like a painter clearing a canvas. The words of the spell were a sharp hiss under his breath, "Dispergo, dispergo, fuckin’ let go." The magic surged through him, a familiar crackle in his veins, and shimmered faintly around his hand before washing over the pothole.
The air seemed to vibrate with the spell’s energy, a brief, sharp hum that died as quickly as it started. The pothole didn’t twitch. It didn’t even ripple. Revenant’s frame remained stuck, her chrome dull under the faintly malevolent glow of the trap. Chox’s breath caught, annoyance sparking in his chest. Damn it, just a simple dispel! He thought, sharp and irritated. It was the kind of spell that should’ve worked, the kind that did work, every time.
He stepped closer, his boot scraping against the road. The pothole’s surface gleamed faintly, unnervingly still, like black glass reflecting nothing. Revenant’s engine gurgled, a weak, wet sound, her usual purr reduced to a struggle. Chox’s fingers flexed, the spell’s failure itching at him. He could feel the magic in the air, his own, unusable, wasted. The pothole didn’t even acknowledge it, just sat there, blank and unyielding.
For a second, he just stared, his jaw clenched, the frustration sour in his mouth. Then his hand tightened, the movement sharp, and he turned toward Revenant, his mind already racing ahead. Simple spells weren’t cutting it. Time to complicate things.
Chox dropped to a crouch beside the pothole, his hands darting into his clever pockets for a pinch of argent dust and a sliver of obsidian. The spell this time wouldn’t be some lazy flick of the wrist. This required finesse, precision, and a whole lot of magic he’d rather not waste. He gritted his teeth, digging deep into his reserves as he began to weave the intricate patterns of a binding reversal spell.
His hands moved like a conductor’s, sharp and deliberate, tracing symbols in the air that shimmered faintly with silver light. The words of the incantation left his lips in a low, steady growl, each syllable punching the air like a hammer strike. He leaned in, his fingers brushing the edge of the pothole as he poured more magic into the spell, the argent dust flaring in his palm before dispersing in a trail of sparking motes.
The air hummed with the spell’s power, a deep, resonant note that vibrated through the soles of his boots. Revenant’s engine growled weakly, as if urging him on.
But the pothole didn’t flinch.
Instead, it drank in the magic like water. The surface darkened, the smooth blackness rippling as it absorbed the energy. A faint, sickly glow seeped from the edges, pulsing with a rhythmic, ominous light. The air around it seemed to thicken, the malevolent energy pressing in on Chox like a physical force.
Oh, fuck.
Behind him, Revenant’s chrome scraped against something, the sound jagged and piercing. Chox turned just in time to see the entity’s claws raking across her fuel tank, leaving deep, jagged scratches that glinted in the faint, unnatural light.
“Goddamn—”
The creature’s movements were frantic, wild, like an animal in a trap. It clawed and struck, its infernal language spitting through the air as it tore into Revenant’s frame. The sound was unbearable—metal screaming, claws shrieking, the hollow thud of fists against steel.
Chox lurched to his feet, his hands already forming the next spell, but he froze. The scratches on Revenant’s surface weren’t healing. At all. He stared, his gut dropping like a stone.
That’s not good.
A slash of darkness across her gas cap remained, stubborn and unyielding. Even the faint hum of mending magic he’d unconsciously fed into her rebuilding spells wasn’t touching it.
The entity shrieked again, its claws digging deeper into Revenant’s chrome. Chox’s breath came sharp, his mind racing. He could feel the magic in the pothole now, a creeping, nausea-inducing presence that pressed against his skin like cold sweat.
And then, behind it all, he heard the distant hum of engines.
Not yet. Not now.
But the sound was growing closer.
Chox’s hand twitched, a flick of his wrist and a sharp, muttered "Sano." A faint glow skittered across the scratches marring Revenant’s chrome, but it fizzled out like a match in the rain. The gashes remained, raw and unyielding, as if the metal itself had turned against him. His gut tightened, frustration prickling at the back of his neck. Goddamned thing.
The Entity’s response was immediate and visceral. It let out a guttural "Krrr’gah!" a sound like gravel choking through a wet throat, followed by a high-pitched "Ssrik’tk." The words were incomprehensible, but the fear and fury behind them were clear as distorted glass. Its claws raked across Rev’s frame again, the metallic screech making Chox’s teeth grind.
Behind the cacophony, the hum of engines grew louder, sharper, closer. Voices carried on the wind—clipped, professional shouts muffled by the roar of machinery. The faintest crackle of magic buzzed in the distance, a high-pitched whine that made the back of Chox’s skull itch. They were running out of time.
The Entity’s attacks grew wilder, its form blurring as it clawed and bit at Revenant’s frame. It was no longer striking strategically; it was lashing out blindly, desperately, like a trapped animal chewing its own leg. Chox could feel its panic, a palpable, suffocating thing that clung to the air like grease.
Metal screamed as the creature’s claws tore through a panel, exposing sparking wires beneath. Chox’s breath came in sharp, controlled bursts, his mind racing. He had nothing—no spells, no tricks, no goddamn time. The engines behind them were almost deafening now, the voices close enough to pick out individual words. The Entity’s hisses rose to a fever pitch, its thrashing becoming so frantic it seemed to shake the very ground beneath them.
And then, just as the first headlights crested the bend, Chox felt it—Rev’s frame shuddering violently, the pothole’s grip loosening for just a heartbeat. It was enough.
Chapter 9
The air clamped down on Chox like a vice, the coming magic of the contractors pressing against his skin with a sickly, greasy weight. It wasn’t just the hum of engines or the grind of gears—he could feel their spells crawling through the air, a thick, pulsating static that clawed at his own magic. His fingers twitched, the familiar tingle of power in his veins dredging up, but it was polluted now, corrupted by the invasive, artificial tang of corporate sorcery. Every attempted spell felt like pushing through syrup, his words of power sticking in his throat, his gestures sluggish and uncoordinated.
The Entity’s claws shrieked against Rev’s frame, the sound like fingernails on chalkboard stretched into an endless scream. Chox spun, his eyes locking onto the creature as it thrashed wildly, its body a blur of twisted, unnatural motion. It wasn’t attacking strategically now—it was lashing out blindly, driven by fear. The infernal language it spat was a jagged, guttural cacophony, each syllable a curse that grated against Chox’s eardrums. Its claws left streaks of blackened metal in their wake, the chrome peeling back like torn skin. Rev’s engine hitched, a pained whine that made Chox’s chest twist.
Rev herself, though... her chrome surfaces still held a faint, stubborn gleam. It was weak, flickering like a candle in a storm, but it persisted. Chox’s gaze caught on the faint, mirrored sheen, his mind snagging on it like a hook. It wasn’t much, but it was there—a tiny, unyielding spark of defiance in the face of all this bullshit.
The Entity’s form blurred as it struck again, its claws biting deep into Rev’s tank with a deafening screech. Chox flinched, his gut twisting as the metal screamed in protest. He could feel the creature’s panic now, a suffocating, acidic presence that clung to the air like smoke. It wasn’t just attacking—it was terrified, its fear so palpable it was almost contagious. Whatever was coming, whatever those contractors had with them, it scared the hell out of this thing.
Chox’s breath came in sharp, controlled bursts, his mind racing. He could feel the contractors’ magic closing in, a suffocating net of energy that pressed against his chest, making it harder to breathe. The faint hum of their spells buzzed at the base of his skull, a high-pitched whine that made his teeth ache. They were almost here.
And then, in the middle of it all, Rev’s faint gleam sparked something. It was a tiny, flickering thing, but it was enough. Chox’s gaze lingered on the reflected light, his mind latching onto it like a lifeline. He didn’t have time to think, not really—but the germ of an idea formed anyway. Chrome... reflection...
The Entity’s claws shrieked again, jolting him back to the moment. The creature was frantic now, its attacks wild and uncoordinated, driven by pure, animalistic terror. Chox could feel the road shifting around them, the walls of the canyon closing in like a vise. They were out of time, the pressure of the approaching contractors’ magic suffocating, the Entity’s attacks growing more erratic by the second.
He had seconds.
The Entity’s form twitched violently, its body jerking in sharp, unnatural spasms as if puppeteered by unseen strings. Its glowing, alien eyes darted between Rev and the distant roar of the contractors, its attention flickering like a flame in a hurricane. One moment, it was clawing savagely at Rev’s frame; the next, it froze, its head cocked at an impossible angle, as though listening to something far beyond human hearing. Its guttural snarls warped into high-pitched, almost insectile chirps, the sounds jagged and erratic, like shattered glass scraping against stone. Its claws quivered, poised to strike, then retracted, only to lash out again in wild, aimless arcs. The creature was a living storm of contradictions, torn between the instinct to kill and the primal urge to flee.
The air around them crackled with energy, the faint hum of magic escalating into a deafening roar. At first, it was a prickling on the skin, a faint static that made the hairs on Chox’s arms stand on end. Then it grew heavier, the weight of it pressing down like an anvil, making every breath a struggle. The sound deepened, a low, thrumming bass that vibrated in Chox’s bones, while the air itself seemed to ripple and distort, like water boiling over a flame. The canyon walls shimmered, their sharp edges softening into impossible curves, as though reality itself were bending under the strain.
The road ahead blurred and shifted, impossible angles flickering into existence before vanishing. The sky darkened, the stars twisting into strange, alien constellations that burned with an unnatural, sickly green light. The world around them was unraveling, thread by thread, as the contractors’ magic tore through the fabric of reality. The Entity’s panic grew, its movements becoming more erratic, its claws flailing wildly as it wailed in that guttural, incomprehensible tongue. Its form blurred, shifting and contorting in ways that defied logic, its body elongating and compressing in grotesque, impossible ways.
And through it all, the pressure built—thickening, choking, suffocating. It was a storm about to break, a tidal wave cresting just out of sight. Chox could feel it in his teeth, his bones, his very soul. The Entity’s voice rose to a screaming pitch, its claws slashing across Rev’s frame one final, desperate time before—everything stopped. The world held its breath.
Chapter 10
The Entity’s claws ripped across Rev’s tank with a sound like fingernails on a chalkboard, the metal screaming in protest. The creature’s form blurred, its strikes wild and relentless, driven by a primal, gut-wrenching terror. Its glowing eyes darted toward the horizon, where the first hints of dawn were staining the sky, before snapping back to Rev with feral intensity. It clawed, kicked, and wailed, its infernal language spitting through the air like venom. The road itself seemed to twist around them, the canyon walls closing in tighter, the air thick with malevolent energy.
Then, the sound came.
At first, it was a low hum, a distant vibration that resonated in Chox’s bones. It grew into a roar, a deafening, mechanized bellow that shook the ground beneath them.udicots of light cut through the pre-dawn gloom—headlights that weren’t headlights. They were colder, sharper, and they cast an unnatural, almost sickly glow over the canyon.
The contractors’ vehicles emerged from the darkness like predators, their black, angular frames bristling with weapons. Chox could see the glint of rocket pods, the faint shimmer of magical wards coating their surfaces, and thecejjected barrels of autocannons. They moved with a precision that was almost organic, their tires chewing up the road with a rhythmic, pounding_TICK TICK TICK_ that echoed off the canyon walls. The air around them seemed to ripple and distort, as if reality itself were bending to accommodate their firepower.
Chox didn’t flinch. He didn’t have time.
His hands moved fast, precise, weaving a complex pattern in the air. Fingers jabbed, sliced, and curled, each movement sharp and deliberate. The magic responded immediately, a surge of energy that crackled like a live wire in his veins. He could feel it pouring into Rev, flowing through the motorcycle’s frame, and burning in the chrome like liquid fire. The metal gleamed, first faintly, then with a brilliant, mirrored intensity that sent shards of light slashing through the gloom.
The Entity howled, its form flickering as it recoiled from the sudden burst of light. Its claws hesitated mid-strike, and for a heartbeat, it seemed to waver. But then, with a guttural snarl, it threw itself at Rev again, its attacks more frantic than ever.
Chox ignored it. His focus was on the spell, on the intricate web of magic he was spinning around Rev. He could feel the contractors’ power bearing down on them, a suffocating weight that pressed against his chest and made his head ache. Their spells intertwined with the Entity’s, creating a chaotic storm of energy that crackled and spat in the air.
But Rev’s chrome was glowing now, a solid, mirror-like surface that pulsed with stored magic. Chox could see the faint outline of a barrier forming, a protective layer that shimmered faintly in the dim light. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do.
The Entity struck again, its claws screaming against Rev’s frame. Chox gritted his teeth, his hands still moving, still weaving. The contractors were closer now, their engines roaring, their weapons systems whining with deadly precision.
“Come on, damn it,” Chox muttered, his voice low and sharp.
The final thread of magic snapped into place, the spell sealing with a faint hum of power. Rev’s chrome flashed brilliantly, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause.
The Entity froze, its claws poised mid-air. The contractors’ vehicles skidded to a halt, their tires smoking, their weapons trained on the scene.
Chox sat back, his chest heaving, his hands still trembling with residual magic. The air was thick with tension, heavy with the promise of violence.
And then, everything exploded.
The air crackled with the hum of gathering magic, the contractors’ weapons systems whining as they charged. Their attack came in a perfectly synchronized wave—missiles streaking in with pinpoint accuracy, spells erupting in bursts of light and shadow that converged on Rev like a storm. The Entity, its infernal screams piercing the chaos, clawed frantically at Rev’s frame, its wild strikes a desperate counterpoint to the contractors’ measured, mechanized assault.
Rev’s chrome roared to life under Chox’s spell, the metal gleaming with an intense, mirrored brilliance. When the first missile struck, it didn’t explode—it ricocheted, veering sharply as if bounced off an invisible wall. A burst of magical energy fired by one of the contractors splashed against the chrome and detonated in a blinding flash, the force of it rippling outward and shredding the side panel of the nearest vehicle. The reflected spells and projectiles tore through the contractors’ ranks, their own power turnedislavishly against them. Men shouted, vehicles skidded, and the precision of their assault fractured under the relentless, unpredictable cascade of their own magic.
But the barrier wasn’t absolute. A rocket pierced the defensive shell, slamming into Rev’s rear wheel with enough force to send Chox sprawling. The motorcycle listed dangerously, its frame groaning in protest. The Entity, seizing the momentary weakness, plunged its claws into Rev’s tank, the sound like tearing steel. Rev shuddered, but his chrome still gleamed, still reflected, still fought.
Then the world exploded.
The detonation was a cacophony of light and sound—magical energy surging out of control, conventional ordinance detonating in chains, theEntity’s infernal screams rising to a deafening pitch. The canyon walls shook, rocks tumbling in a lethal rain. Flames erupted, licking greedily at the darkness, and the air reeked of ozone, scorched metal, and something faintly sulfurous. The ground bucked beneath Chox’s knees, throwing him off balance as he clung to Rev’s handlebars.
When the smoke finally began to clear, the canyon was silent. The road stretched out empty, save for the smoking craters and the twisted wreckage of the contractors’ vehicles. TheEntity was gone, the pothole erased as if it had never been. Rev lay still, his chrome dull and cracked, his frame bent but intact. Chox sat beside him, coughing, his hands raw and trembling with the aftermath of the magic.
Rev’s engine sputtered, a faint, groaning sound that might have been a laugh. Chox didn’t smile. He wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes narrowed against the growing light of dawn.
“You with me, Rev?” he said, his voice hoarse.
Rev’s headlight flickered weakly, then died.
Chox let out a breath, his shoulders sinking. He pocketed the USB drive, its weight a steady, unyielding presence against his thigh. The road behind them was a scarred, blackened wasteland. Ahead, the canyon opened up into a faint glow—the first light of dawn breaking over the mountains.
He stood, his joints aching, and began to walk. West, toward the sunrise, the weight of the USB drive pressing against him with every step. The road behind him was silent, the smoke lingering like a mourner’s veil. In front of him, the dawn stretched out, golden and unbroken.
8. Bonus: Chapter 1, scene beat 1 from nine other LLMs that I didn't choose to write the rest of the book with.
microsoft/phi-4
Gates tore apart with a roar, shredding metal like paper in a hurricane. Alarms blared, piercing the silence of the mountain air with shrill urgency. Shards of iron and steel flew madly, painting the atmosphere with chaos. Rev bucked violently beneath Coyote Hex, his tailpipes erupting into a fury of flames, lighting the night with bursts of fire.
In that moment, Coyote moved as if born of the storm. The ground hurtled beneath them, and the air howled, as if vying to catch up. His heart pounded, syncopated with the relentless drumming of tires on asphalt, adrenaline coursing through his veins with reckless abandon.
He leaned slightly forward, weight shifting, responding to Rev's fierce acceleration. Every sense honed to survival, Coyote focused only on the escape. The facility was left behind, a storm-soaked horror of smoke and seething energy. A blur of destruction marked the tail of Rev as they sped away, the world an afterimage of flashing lights and echoing gunfire.
Outside the perimeter, still heart-pounding and senses sharp, Coyote took brief, steadying breaths as Rev surged, ever forward, instinctively, through the darkness. The chase, and its new face, loomed imminent, but for now, they rode the silence of the void, enemies at their heels yet miles from safety.
GPT-4o 2024 11 20
The gates detonated outward in a shrieking blast of twisted steel and shattered enchantments, shards of metal whistling through the air like reckless bullets. Alarms screamed to life, their wails ripping apart the mountain’s stillness. Smoke and debris billowed across the perimeter, swallowing the floodlights in choking black.
Rev roared through the chaos, his tires spitting gravel and sparks. The engine bellowed like some unholy beast, its deep growl vibrating through Coyote Hex's ribs. He leaned hard into the handlebars, the wind slicing across his face, stinging with flecks of dust and burnt magic residue.
A chunk of what used to be the gate smashed against the chain-link fence. Rev barely swerved, carving a line of molten fury through the rubble. His tailpipes spat flames behind him, licking at the debris as if daring it to follow. Coyote hunched low, gripping tight, every muscle taut as Rev’s chrome glinted defiantly against the flickering hazard lights.
“Keep it together. We’re not clear yet.”
Mistral Large
Metal shrieked as the security gates exploded outwards, shards of steel flying like shrapnel. Revenant's engine roared, a beast unleashed, tires scorching the asphalt. The sudden acceleration punched Coyote Hex in the gut, pinning him to the seat. Alarms blared, a discordant symphony echoing off the mountainous terrain.
Debris scattered, clanging against Rev's chrome, as they tore through the breach. The wind whipped around them, howling like a banshee. The facility's lights strobed, casting flickering shadows that danced macabrely on the pavement. The stench of burned rubber and ozone filled the air, a pungent mix that stung Hex's nostrils.
Rev's tailpipes curled, flames licking the air, ready to bite. Chrome glinted under the harsh security lights, a defiant gleam against the encroaching darkness. They shot past the perimeter, the facility's magical defenses sparking and crackling in their wake.
Hex leaned low, the wind tearing at his clothes. His heart pounded in sync with Rev's engine, adrenaline surging through his veins. The facility's armed guards scrambled, their shouts lost in the chaos. The night blurred into a kaleidoscope of speed and sound, the world reduced to the roar of the engine and the rush of the wind.
Just outside the breached perimeter, Rev's tires gripped the road, their flight steady but swift. The first wave of pursuit was sure to follow. Hex's grip tightened, his eyes scanning the darkness ahead. There was no time to waste.
microsoft/wizardlm-2-8x22b
The world erupted in a cacophony of twisting metal and the raw scream of tearing steel. Coyote Hex felt the blast's hot breath on his neck as Revenant surged forward, the motorcycle's engine roaring with a primal fury. Debris rained down in a hail of shrapnel, bouncing off Rev's enchanted chrome with dull clangs. The security gates, once an impassable wall of reinforced alloy, now lay mangled and smoldering, a testament to the destructive symphony played by magic and machinery.
Alarms wailed, their shrill sirens clawing at the air, as if the very facility itself was crying out in pain. The ground shook beneath Rev's thundering tires, each rotation a defiant stomp against the concrete. Coyote's heart pounded in sync with the bike's rhythm, the adrenaline coursing through his veins as exhilarating as any spell.
Ahead, the mountainous terrain stretched out like the craggy backbone of some slumbering giant. Rev's tailpipes flared, belching out flames that licked the night air, a dragon's fiery breath in their flight. The motorcycle's raw power was palpable, a living force that propelled them deeper into the shadows of the wilderness.
The escape was a blur of motion, a dance of speed and agility as Coyote and Rev wove through the chaos they had wrought. Behind them, the facility's lights flickered like a dying pulse, receding into the distance as they put the breach behind them. The USB drive, a tiny trove of secrets, felt heavy in Coyote's pocket, its weight a silent reminder of the danger that still pursued them.
As they cleared the perimeter, Rev's engine purred, a predator content with its kill. But the night was far from over, and the roads ahead promised more than just the thrill of the chase. With Rev's chrome surfaces gleaming under the moonlight, ready to reflect any magical pursuit, Coyote Hex leaned into the wind, a wizard and his steed racing towards the unknown.
Deepseek R1
Revenant’s wheels chewed shredded gate remnants like shattered asphalt teeth. The concussive thoom of breached magical wards still rang in Coyote’s molars as the bike surged forward—handlebars vibrating beneath white-knuckled grip, torn chain-link flaying his leather jacket. Alarms became a singular shriek behind them.
He tasted burnt ozone. Felt the scream of overstressed steel as Rev fishtailed past a collapsing guard tower. Chrome flashed in his periphery. A thermal camera exploded in molten sparks under their back wheel. Coyote didn’t look behind. Didn’t need to.
Rev’s engine howled three octaves higher than physics allowed. They hit the mountain road at 90mph, windshear clawing at Coyote’s goggles. “Not bad for a rustbucket!”
The motorcycle kicked sideways in response, nearly clipping a granite outcrop. Coyote grinned through the hurricane-force roar. Behind them, the facility’s perimeter lights shrank into angry fireflies. Ahead—switchbacks. Black pines. Open night.
Rev’s frame shuddered as gears bit harder. Acceleration pressed Coyote’s spine against the sissy bar. His laugh got ripped away by velocity.
google/gemini-2.0-flash-exp:free
Steel shrieked. The security gates disintegrated, torn outward in a spray of bent metal and concrete shrapnel. Alarms wailed, a jarring, synthetic shriek that barely registered over the roar of Rev’s engine. Coyote Hex gripped the handlebars, knuckles white as bone. Rev launched forward, a black blur against the shattered remains of the perimeter. The wind whipped past, tugging at Chox’s leather jacket. Debris pelted them—small rocks, twisted rebar, the occasional chunk of concrete.
Rev’s engine screamed as he accelerated, a guttural growl that echoed off the mountains around them. The ground blurred beneath. Coyote Hex saw the world in smears of green and grey. A rapid series of staccato pops sounded behind as guns lit up, muzzle flashes swallowed quickly in the billowing cloud of dust and smoke. They rocketed through a gap in the fence line, a jagged scar in the otherwise steel-clad perimeter.
Coyote Hex adjusted his goggles, the wind biting at his cheeks. They blew past the guard rail, the facility shrinking behind them with every second.
qwen/qwen-plus
Metal groaned and tore apart as the gates exploded outward. Sparks rained down like fireworks, each fragment of shrapnel glinting in the harsh floodlights. The deafening crack of splitting steel drowned out everything else, but the blare of alarms filled the void moments later, shrill and unrelenting. Coyote Hex gripped Revenant's handles tight, knuckles white against the vibrating chrome.
Revenant roared to life, his engine a growl that turned into a howl as he surged forward. His tires spat dirt and gravel behind them, the force of acceleration nearly throwing Hex off balance. Flame shot from the tailpipes, curling upward as Rev tilted into a sharp turn, narrowly avoiding a collapsing section of fence.
The air was thick with smoke and the acrid tang of burning rubber. Hex felt the heat of the explosion on his face, tasted it in the back of his throat. Behind him, guards shouted, footsteps pounding, but they were already fading fast. Revenant’s speed was relentless, eating up ground in wide arcs, his chrome surfaces gleaming sharply under the floodlights. They burst through the last line of perimeter defenses, still gaining speed, still running hard. Ahead lay open road—and more trouble waiting.
qwen/qwq-32b-preview
The gates exploded outward in a shower of sparks and torn metal, the thick reinforced doors warping under the force of Coyote Hex's spell. Alarms blared behind him, shattering the silence of the night with a deafening wail that seemed to scream betrayal. Without pause, Coyote Hex yanked on the handlebars of Revenant, his sentient motorcycle, and they surged forward into the breach.
The air around them pulsed with magic, charged by the residual energy of the gate's destruction. Coyote felt the power thrumming through Rev, felt the bike's own magic intertwining with his own, amplifying their escape. The chrome surfaces of Revenant gleamed in the moonlight, reflecting the swirling chaos of the breached perimeter.
Acceleration slammed into Coyote, pressing him back against the seat as Rev's engine roared to life. The power was raw and unbridled, pushing them forward with a speed that defied the laws of physics. The world beyond the gates blurred into a streak of colors and shapes, the landscape whipping past in a dizzying display of motion.
Debris from the destroyed gates rained down around them, but Rev dodged and weaved with a liquid grace that belied his hulking form. His tailpipes, curled upwards like serpents, cast flickering shadows on the ground as they sped away from the facility.
Coyote Hex gripped the handlebars tight, his eyes locked on the horizon as they hurtled towards freedom. The adrenaline surged through his veins, a cold fire that fueled his determination. They were out, but he knew the pursuit was only beginning. The thrill of the chase was already setting in, and he relished it. This was what he lived for—the danger, the rush, the sheer exhilaration of defying impossible odds.
But for now, momentum was their ally. They had to keep moving, stay ahead of whatever was sent after them. Coyote Hex glanced behind, noting the plume of smoke still rising from the breached gates. The facility was stirring, no doubt mobilizing its forces. He couldn't afford to look back for long. The future was uncertain, but one thing was clear: this was only the beginning.
x-ai/grok-beta
The security gates exploded outward with a deafening BOOM, sending metal shards screaming into the night sky like fireworks gone feral. The air screamed, alarms screeched from every direction, a cacophony of chaos that punched the eardrums.
Coyote Hex rode Revenant as if he was part of the bike, their escape propulsive, like they were launched from a catapult. The ground met his boots, and his body leaned forward instinctively. The facility behind them started to shrink on the horizon.
Flames licked from Rev’s tailpipes, the chrome glinting against the harsh moonlight, a lightning bolt in the darkness. Kiss of hot air brushed Coyote’s cheeks, giving warmth in the cool night.
Debris showered around them, steel rain still falling from the breached gates. Rev skidded like a knife through butter, sending up a squall of dust and gravel. The remaining guards were yelling, but their words were just more noise in the symphony of their getaway, muddled by the engines' roar - both the shouts of despair and the rumble of the motorcycle.
The bike didn't just ride; it devoured the distance. Coyote tightened his grip, as they raced past the obliterated perimeter, leaving chaos in their wake. Were the alarms winning, or the revs of the engine? You couldn't tell, not at this speed.
6. Unedited story as produced using the Scene Beat Completion / General Purpose prompt and Qwen Max
Chapter 1
The gates erupted outward in a shower of sparks and twisted metal, the sound a deafening crack that rattled Coyote Hex’s teeth. He leaned low over Revenant, the bike roaring beneath him like a living thing, pistons pounding out a war drum rhythm. Alarms screamed into the night, high-pitched wails slicing through the chaos as red lights painted the facility in staccato flashes.
Debris flew past—shards of steel slicing the air like shrapnel. The wind howled around him, acrid with burnt rubber and scorched earth. Rev’s tires clawed at the asphalt, propelling them forward with savage glee. Every muscle in Hex’s body tensed as they shot through the jagged maw of the ruined gate, his coat whipping behind him like a tattered flag.
Flames licked from Rev’s tailpipes, curling forward like serpents eager to burn whatever stood in their way. The bike surged faster, impossibly fast, leaving the chaos shrinking in the rearview mirror. But the perimeter wasn’t far enough—not yet.
The security tower loomed ahead, a shadowy silhouette against the crimson strobes lighting up the night. A spark of motion inside caught Hex's eye just as a bolt of shimmering blue energy screamed from its peak. The air cracked with an electric hiss, and for a heartbeat, time slowed. The twisting arc of magic hurtled toward them, crackling with unnatural heat, an alien sun on a collision course.
Rev didn’t hesitate. His chrome surfaces flared, catching the light of the explosion before it even happened. The bike’s tailpipes twisted, aiming backward without breaking stride, and suddenly Hex was enveloped in a mirror-bright flash. The blue energy struck Rev’s flank—and bounced. It arced back, impossibly faster, like a thrown knife reversing mid-flight.
It hit the tower with a deafening roar, tearing through steel and concrete like paper. Glass shards erupted outward in glittering waves, catching the strobing lights like diamonds scattered by a vengeful god. The entire structure groaned, its bones collapsing inward as fire bloomed, orange blossoms devouring everything they touched. Smoke billowed skyward, thick and black, choking out the stars.
Hex felt Rev rumble beneath him, triumphant and smug despite the chaos. The bike surged forward, eating up the distance, never missing a beat.
The chase wasn’t over, but the tower was gone—just rubble and smoke fading behind them.
Revenant leaned hard into the next turn, tires screaming against the asphalt like a predator scenting blood. Hex's weight shifted instinctively, his body moving in perfect counterbalance to the bike's tilt. Together, they carved through the chaos, a single entity forged from chrome, leather, and fire. The night blurred around them, strobing red lights painting the road in hellish hues.
Then came the rumble—a guttural growl that didn’t belong to Rev. A security vehicle roared into view, tires fishtailing as it emerged from a side corridor. Its headlights pinned them in stark relief, but Hex didn’t flinch. Instead, he smirked, fingers tightening on the handlebars.
"Teach 'em something, Rev," he muttered, voice low and grim.
Rev didn’t need to be told twice. The tailpipes twisted with almost serpentine grace, curling forward and angling toward the pursuing vehicle. A heartbeat later, twin jets of flame erupted, bright orange tongues licking hungrily at the darkness. The fire struck true, engulfing the front grille in a violent bloom of heat and light. Metal groaned as paint blistered, tires melted into molten rivers, and glass spiderwebbed before exploding inward.
The vehicle skidded wildly, driverless and doomed, before slamming into a guardrail. It crumpled like paper, sparks flying as flames consumed what remained. The floodlights above flickered and swayed, casting jagged shadows across the wreckage.
Hex exhaled sharply, feeling the heat on his face. "Nice shot."
The sound of boots hitting asphalt signaled more threats closing in.
The floodlights snapped on all at once, bleaching the world white. Shadows stretched and snapped back into sharp relief, pooling around the wreckage of the security vehicle like spilled ink. The sudden brilliance forced Hex to squint, his hand rising instinctively to shield his eyes as Rev growled beneath him, tailpipes flaring hot with unease.
From the facility’s low, angular buildings emerged figures unlike the guards before them. These were hunters—precision killers in sleek tactical gear bristling with arcane sigils etched into their armor. Rifles glinted in their hands, barrels humming faintly with embedded magic, while glowing filaments laced through their suits pulsed like veins of molten gold. The leader’s visor caught the light, reflecting Rev’s distorted shape like a warped mirror.
They moved with chilling coordination, spreading out but never breaking formation. Each step seemed to thrum with purpose, boots clicking against asphalt like the ticking of some monstrous clock.
Hex cursed under his breath. “Guess it’s go time.”
Rev didn’t wait for another word. Tailpipes spitting fire, they shot forward, tires screaming as the PMCs opened fire behind them, bolts of light chasing close enough to sear Hex's coat.
Chapter 2
The road blurred beneath Rev’s tires, the engine’s whine rising to a fever pitch. Wind tore at Hex’s coat, whipping it into a frenzy as they hurtled down the mountain road. His knuckles whitened on the handlebars, every muscle tense, his mind racing ahead to what waited below. The facility’s lights had faded into pinpricks in the rearview, but the PMCs were still out there—closing fast.
Then the first flash of red and blue split the night.
Hex’s stomach dropped as the roadblock came into view, sprawling across the narrow highway like a steel beast. Floodlights mounted on black SUVs carved through the darkness, painting the jagged canyon walls in harsh, shifting colors. Tire spikes glinted wickedly under the strobing lights, their jagged teeth ready to tear Rev apart. Boots crunched gravel as agents spread out, weapons raised, faces hidden behind mirrored shades and FBI jackets that looked too clean for this hellhole.
Rev growled beneath him, tailpipes flaring hotter. The air smelled like burnt rubber and panic.
“Not today,” Hex muttered, leaning low over the bars, heart hammering.
The SUVs formed a wall, their headlights glaring like eyes too wide to blink. He counted six agents moving into position, their movements sharp, deliberate. One stepped forward, hand raised, a megaphone pressed to his lips.
“Stop your vehicle immediately!” The voice cut through the chaos, tinny but firm. “You are surrounded. Shut off the engine and dismount—”
Hex clenched his jaw, fingers tightening on Rev’s grips. They weren’t stopping—not here, not now.
The world exploded.
Before Hex could even think about dodging, the night turned to fire. A streak of molten gold screamed overhead, trailing heat that singed the hairs on his arms. It struck one of the SUVs—and didn’t stop. The vehicle erupted in a bloom of liquid flame, twisting metal shrieking as it folded inward like paper. Bodies were flung like ragdolls, their outlines briefly silhouetted against the inferno before disappearing entirely.
Hex’s breath hitched. His grip on Rev tightened as the second wave hit—a hail of crackling purple shards that tore through the remaining agents with surgical precision. One man raised his weapon, shouting something lost in the roar of destruction, before dissolving into ash where he stood. Another dove for cover behind an SUV, only for the ground beneath him to ripple and swallow him whole, leaving no trace but scorched earth.
The PMCs moved like ghosts, stepping out of shadows thrown by the flames. Their armor gleamed unnaturally, reflecting flickers of destruction back at the carnage. Weapons Hex couldn’t name pulsed with energy, humming softly, hungry. No shouts, no demands for surrender—just cold efficiency.
Rev’s frame shuddered beneath him, his engine growling low, almost nervous. Hex leaned forward, fingers brushing the chrome skull emblem on the gas tank. “Yeah,” he said through gritted teeth, voice barely audible over the chaos. “I see ‘em.”
Smoke choked the air, acrid and thick. The roadblock was gone, reduced to craters and smoldering wreckage. Hex’s chest tightened. This wasn’t a fight. It was extermination. He glanced toward the canyon cliffs, jaw clenched. If they stayed still too long, the same fate would find them.
The world burned around them, but beneath him, Rev pulsed. Not a sound—nothing so simple. It was deeper, older. A tremor that rattled his bones like the first note of a song only they could hear. Hex's gloved hands flattened against the gas tank, fingers splayed wide. The vibration wasn't fear or hesitation. It was knowing. Rev knew.
Hex’s jaw tightened as he scanned the chaos. The PMCs moved like predators, unhurried now, savoring their handiwork. Their weapons glowed faintly, hungry for more targets. If they caught sight of Rev... Hex didn’t let himself finish the thought. There was no winning this fight, not head-on. Not tonight.
Another pulse, sharper this time. Insistent. Hex turned his head slightly, peering into the shadows where the road curved sharply toward the cliffs. Something there—a flicker of movement in the rocks? Or just dust kicked up by the firestorm behind them? He couldn’t be sure. But Rev had already made the choice.
“All right,” Hex breathed, voice swallowed by the roar of destruction. “You lead. I’ll follow.”
Rev didn’t need telling twice. With a low growl, the motorcycle shifted beneath him, tires skidding momentarily before finding purchase. They banked hard, veering off the main road, tires crunching over loose gravel. The shadows swallowed them whole, the canyon walls closing in like jaws. Behind them, the PMCs remained fixated on their flames and ruin, oblivious to the pair slipping through their grasp. For now.
Hex exhaled, his grip on the handlebars loosening just enough to feel human again.
Chapter 3
The road unfurled before them like a ribbon spun from dreams. Perfect asphalt stretched ahead, unbroken by cracks or debris, its surface kissed by moonlight until it gleamed like wet glass. The curves bent with mathematical precision, each one an invitation to lean harder, faster, deeper into the dance between rubber and road. Hidden Canyon Road wasn’t just a path—it was a promise, whispering to every fiber of Hex’s being that this was where he belonged.
Rev purred beneath him, the vibrations humming through his legs in a steady, hypnotic rhythm. It was the kind of sound that could lull someone into forgetting the rest of the world existed. For a moment, Hex let himself sink into it—the weightless pull of momentum as they rounded a sweeping turn, the crisp bite of pine-scented air rushing past, the way the tires seemed to melt into the pavement rather than roll over it. Riding here felt less like driving and more like flying, like being carried along by some unseen current. Liquid poetry.
But then the perfection started to itch.
At first, it was just a nagging voice at the back of his skull, soft as the whisper of wind through canyon walls. Something too clean about the way the road flowed beneath them, too deliberate about the way the trees framed each curve. Like nature herself had been coerced into posing for a postcard. Hex’s fingers twitched on the handlebars, knuckles whitening ever so slightly. Perfection like this didn’t happen by accident. And perfection didn’t sit right with him.
Rev’s engine tone shifted, subtle enough that anyone else might have missed it. A slight hitch in the otherwise smooth growl, like a single flat note in an otherwise flawless chord. Hex’s gut clenched. He knew that sound better than his own heartbeat. Rev was off—just barely, just enough to raise the hairs on his arms. Hex leaned forward, pressing his palm against the chrome skull emblem mounted on the gas tank. Beneath his touch, Rev’s frame vibrated, discordant now, a warning thrumming through steel and magic.
Hex’s jaw tightened. Too perfect. Too wrong.
The silence hit like a wall.
One moment, Rev’s engine was a living thing between his thighs, growling and thrumming with every twist of the throttle. The next—nothing. No distant rumble of pursuit. No crunch of gravel or whine of tires chewing asphalt. Not even the usual forest whispers, leaves rustling or branches creaking. It wasn’t just quiet; it was empty, as if the world itself had stopped breathing.
Hex glanced back, his head swiveling sharply. There was nothing behind them but empty road vanishing into shadow. His stomach tightened. He knew better than to trust that kind of stillness. Even Rev felt it—his frame quivered under Hex’s grip, not with speed or excitement but something closer to unease. The motorcycle’s handlebars twitched ever so slightly, an involuntary shudder that matched the one creeping up Hex's spine.
And then the road moved.
At first, it was subtle—a faint ripple in the asphalt, like heat distortion on a summer highway. But the shimmer grew sharper, darker. Cracks spiderwebbed across the surface, widening and deepening until the ground seemed to split open. Hex watched, jaw clenched, as chunks of perfect blacktop folded inward and reshaped themselves. The road stretched and contorted, curves tightening where there had been straightaways, dead ends forming out of nothing. It was deliberate. Calculated. Alive.
Hex leaned forward, pressing his weight against Rev. They couldn’t turn back now. Not unless they wanted to ride straight into whatever fresh hell the road was weaving behind them. The thought soured in his mind like bad whiskey. Their only choice was to go deeper into the canyon.
Above, the horizon began to lighten, pale fingers of dawn creeping over the jagged peaks. Normally, sunrise would’ve meant relief—the promise of escape or help or at least clearer visibility. But here, the glow felt wrong, too slow and sickly to bring comfort. It painted the shifting road in shades of grey and gold, highlighting every unnatural twist and turn. Hex cursed under his breath. Time was running out. The USB drive burned a phantom hole in his pocket, reminding him of what was waiting if he failed.
A prickle ran down his neck, sharp as needles brushing skin. It wasn’t the wind or the cold. He knew that feeling too well—the weight of unseen eyes boring into him. He couldn’t see anyone, couldn’t hear a goddamn thing, but he felt it. Whatever was watching him wasn’t human. Its attention pressed against him like a storm front, heavy and suffocating.
Chapter 4
Rev swerved without warning, a sharp jerk to the right that sent Hex’s knee skimming dangerously close to the asphalt. For half a second, Chox thought it was just another patch of loose gravel or some trick of the light—a shadow playing across uneven pavement. He adjusted automatically, leaning into the motion with the kind of seamless trust born from years of riding together. Rev didn’t make mistakes. Not like this.
But as they straightened out, Hex’s eyes caught on the spot they’d avoided—a dark smudge in the road ahead. At first glance, it looked like an ordinary pothole, worn edges crumbling into blackness. The kind you’d curse at before gunning the throttle to get past it. But something about it didn’t sit right.
He squinted, narrowing his focus. The surface shimmered faintly, oily and slick-looking, but not like oil. It didn’t pool or glisten properly—it shifted, lazy swirls moving in ways that defied logic. Where the rest of the road gleamed under the creeping dawn, this patch seemed to drink the light, swallowing it whole without reflection. And the longer he looked, the less still it became. Tiny ripples formed along its edges, almost imperceptible, as though the thing were breathing.
Hex’s fingers tightened on the handlebars, leather creaking softly. “What the hell is that?” he muttered, voice low and rough, more to himself than anyone else. Rev didn’t answer, not in words anyway. Instead, his engine tone changed—a deeper growl, low and strained, like the bike was bracing for impact. The chrome accents along his frame dulled noticeably, their usual gleam dimming as if recoiling from something foul in the air. Hex noticed how the metal seemed to shiver under the morning light, not sparkling but dull, almost matte, like it refused to catch the sun.
The pothole stretched wider, its edges curling inward like molten wax. It wasn’t static anymore—it pulsed. Subtle, rhythmic movements that had no business belonging to a hole in the ground. Hex’s stomach churned. Whatever it was, it wasn’t natural. And it sure as hell wasn’t safe.
Rev surged forward again, tires biting into the asphalt with purpose, leaving the unnatural smear behind them. But Hex could feel it now—the creeping certainty that they hadn’t left it far enough behind.
The farther they went, the less poetic the road became. Or maybe it was just that Coyote Hex had stopped seeing it through the lens of freedom and started noticing the cracks. Literally. The asphalt beneath Rev’s tires wasn’t as smooth anymore—patchy, rough sections broke up the flow, marred by gouges and scorch marks that looked too deliberate to be natural wear. Hex’s gaze snagged on something glinting faintly in the pre-dawn gloom. Chrome. Fragments of it, scattered along the shoulder like confetti after a party gone wrong. He tilted his head slightly as they passed another cluster, catching the faint sheen of twisted metal and broken glass embedded in the dirt. Not decorations. Vehicle parts. Damaged ones.
His boot shifted against the foot peg, tension creeping into his posture. The stains on the road caught his eye next—dark streaks smeared across the pavement, some faded, others still glistening wetly despite the perpetual dryness of the canyon. Oil, maybe. Or coolant. But the texture was all wrong. Too thick. Too... alive. One stain pooled near the centerline, tendrils stretching outward like roots digging into the asphalt. Hex didn’t want to think about what it might be, but his mind supplied possibilities anyway. None of them were good.
Rev’s engine growled low and steady beneath him, humming with the same unease Hex felt prickling at the back of his neck. His fingers tingled first—just a faint buzz, easy to dismiss as numbness from gripping the handlebars too tightly. But it spread, crawling up his arms and settling heavy in his chest. Magic. His arcane senses screamed it louder than any alarm. Something powerful lingered here, pressed against the world like a thumb on a bruise. It wasn’t the comforting warmth of Rev’s presence or the sharp bite of his own spells—it was darker. Heavier. Wrong.
And then the silence hit. Not just quiet, but a suffocating void where sound itself seemed afraid to tread. The wind died mid-whisper, leaving the canyon air thick and unmoving. Even Rev’s pipes, usually a thunderous roar, sounded muffled, swallowed whole by the oppressive stillness. Every breath Hex took felt heavier, like drawing in water instead of air. The beauty of the canyon—the sweeping curves, the golden glow of dawn creeping over jagged cliffs—now seemed tainted, a mask slipping to reveal the rot underneath.
The tingling in his hands turned electric, sharp and insistent. Something was coming.
Chapter 5
Something about the stillness felt wrong. Too wrong to keep riding forward. The canyon road, once a ribbon of perfect curves and immaculate asphalt, now crawled under Hex’s skin like a bad trip. He didn’t have a plan—hell, he never did—but his gut screamed at him to turn around. Forward wasn’t safe anymore. Whatever lay ahead, it wasn’t escape.
Tightening his grip on the handlebars, Hex leaned into the motion, signaling Rev with a sharp tug left. Rev always responded instantly, his movements fluid as water, but this time there was hesitation. A stutter. For half a heartbeat, the motorcycle’s frame resisted, almost bucking beneath him before jerking violently into the turn. The tires squealed against the asphalt, leaving black skid marks that shouldn’t have been possible on such pristine pavement. Hex’s jaw clenched. Rev never fought him. Never.
Behind them, the road had transformed. Where moments ago it had twisted through the canyon in graceful arcs, it now bent in ways that made Hex’s eyes ache. The horizon tilted impossibly upward, angles folding into each other like crumpled paper. A cliff face jutted sideways instead of up, its jagged edge slicing across the sky. Shadows pooled unnaturally thick along surfaces that defied logic, swallowing light whole. It wasn’t just broken geometry; it moved. Sections of the road rippled and shifted, bending themselves into new configurations even as he stared, mocking his attempt to retreat.
“What the—” Hex cut himself off with a grimace, knuckles white on the grips. His pulse hammered in his ears, drowning out everything else except the low, guttural hum of Rev’s engine. The motorcycle vibrated beneath him, protesting each inch forward—or was it backward? Hex couldn’t tell anymore. The world warped too fast for direction to mean anything.
Then the potholes appeared.
They weren’t just one anymore. Three. Five. Dozens. They bubbled up from the asphalt like wounds splitting open, their surfaces rippling with sickly oil-slick hues. Some hovered mid-air, defying gravity, while others stretched impossibly wide, consuming entire sections of the road. One hung upside-down on the underside of a floating fragment of asphalt, spinning lazily like a carnival ride gone rogue. Each pothole exuded the same wrongness, that same crawling sense of hunger. Hex’s stomach churned as he met the oily glare of one directly. It watched him, shifting closer no matter how far Rev sped away.
Rev wasn’t handling it well. The motorcycle’s engine sputtered erratically, coughing like it was drowning. The frame shuddered, chrome flickering dim and then bright again as if caught between states of existence. Rev swerved wildly, tires skittering over the uneven terrain as though something unseen yanked at them, pulling strings only Rev could feel. Hex grunted, muscles straining as he fought to keep them upright. Every wobble sent a fresh jolt of dread through him. Rev wasn’t just resisting—he was fighting. Fighting something Hex couldn’t see.
The sounds came next. At first, they were distant, faint echoes of engines revving and tires screeching. Pursuit. But these weren’t ordinary noises—they warped and stretched, voices rising too high or dropping too low, layered with mechanical shrieks that shouldn’t exist. The cacophony closed in, louder and more distorted with every passing second, filtering through the unnatural canyon like it was being broadcast from another dimension. Hex glanced over his shoulder, catching glimpses of headlights twisting in impossible spirals, shadows elongating into grotesque shapes as they approached.
Above, the dawn faltered. The golden light bled out of the sky, replaced by an unnatural twilight that deepened into something darker, heavier. Clouds churned where none had existed moments before, writhing like living things. The air grew colder, pressing down on him like a physical weight. Hex’s breath misted in front of him, sharp and visible despite the desert heat that should’ve lingered.
“Herding us,” he growled under his breath, the realization hitting hard. This wasn’t random chaos. Something intelligent controlled the road, the potholes, the warped geometry. Something that wanted them exactly where it could trap them.
Chapter 6
One moment, the road ahead was clear—a ribbon of asphalt twisting through shadow and half-light. The next, the pothole erupted into existence directly beneath Rev’s front tire, swallowing it whole. There was no warning, no time to react. Metal screamed as the motorcycle slammed into the magical trap, its frame buckling with a deafening groan. Hex’s body lurched forward, momentum tearing him from the seat before Rev’s rear tire caught the edge of the pothole and yanked them both back with brutal force.
The impact rattled every bone in Hex’s body. His teeth clacked together hard enough to make his jaw ache, and his hands burned where they gripped the handlebars. But Rev—he took the full brunt of it. The bike’s forks bent inward like twisted fingers, chrome surfaces fracturing under impossible stress. One of the tailpipes snapped clean off, spinning away into the darkness with a hollow clang. Sparks spat from the engine housing, orange and angry against the unnatural twilight.
Then came the magic.
Raw energy surged up from the pothole, slamming into Rev like a freight train. It crackled across his chrome in jagged streaks, blue-white arcs that made Hex’s skin crawl. The mirrored surfaces—once gleaming with protective power—warped visibly, flaring bright then dulling to a sickly gray. The chrome bubbled and blistered, as if the very metal had begun to decay. Rev shuddered violently beneath Hex, the mechanical groans now interwoven with a low, keening whine that set Hex’s teeth on edge.
It wasn’t just damage. It was invasion. Corruption.
Hex hit the ground running, boots skidding on loose asphalt as he rounded Rev’s front end. The sight punched the air from his lungs. The forks weren’t just bent—they were ruined, twisted at unnatural angles that screamed of impossible forces. Oil pooled beneath the engine, black and viscous, glinting faintly in the dim light. Steam hissed from somewhere deep inside the housing, curling upward in thin tendrils. Chrome bubbled like molten wax, the once-pristine surfaces now pitted and grayed. Worst of all, Rev’s tailpipe—the one still attached—hung limp, lifeless, its usual fire extinguished.
“No.” The word tore out of him, guttural and raw.
He grabbed the handlebars, gloves slick against metal slick with condensation. Muscles burned as he heaved backward, boots digging trenches into the road. Rev roared, engine howling in defiance, pistons hammering with a fury that shook the ground beneath Hex’s feet. The sound echoed off the canyon walls, deafening, desperate. Together they pulled—man and machine—but the pothole didn’t budge. It clung to Rev like a leech, its edges shimmering faintly as though mocking their efforts.
Hex’s arms trembled, veins standing out like rope under his skin. He let go, chest heaving, and stared at the unyielding trap. His mind raced. Brute force was useless. He needed another way.
The realization settled over him like ash.
Coyote Hex stepped back, the weight of his predicament pressing down on him. His movements were sharp, precise; a wizard preparing for battle. He extended his hands, fingers flexing as if grasping the very air. Flickers of arcane energy danced across his fingertips, swirling and coalescing into a focused beam of light.
He directed the beam at the pothole and its captive, the light a soft, probing touch. The pothole's surface shimmered, revealing veins of pulsating, dark magic interwoven with tendrils of malevolent energy. Revenant's body, twisted and contorted, glowed with a sickly, unnatural aura—a dark reflection of the trap's power.
Coyote Hex's brow furrowed; the magic binding his loyal companion was complex, a twisting labyrinth of eldritch force. His mind raced, piecing together incantations and counter-spells, but each possibility seemed to falter before the sheer magnitude of the pothole's enchantment.
Taking a deep breath, he began to chant an incantation to break the curse. His voice was a low rumble, vibrating with arcane intent. Ancient words of power rolled off his tongue, infused with his will.
Arcane energy flowed from him, a torrent of intent directed at the pothole. But as the spell struck its target, it faltered and dissipated, absorbed or deflected by the pothole’s magic. The dark energy continued to pulse, indifferent to his efforts. Coyote Hex staggered back, his hands dropping as the spell failed.
The realization that his magic was insufficient crashed over him, and a cold dread settled in the pit of his stomach.
The road beneath Hex’s boots began to shift. At first, it was subtle—a faint ripple in the asphalt, like heat haze shimmering across desert sand. But then the surface writhed, bulging upward in uneven waves that spread outward from the pothole. Cracks splintered through the pavement, jagged veins of darkness leaking an oily sheen. The air above the road shimmered sickly, warping the light of dawn into something unnatural, nauseating. It wasn’t just ground underfoot anymore; it was a living thing, pulsing with hunger.
The pothole itself seemed to swell, its edges undulating like liquid shadow. The dark threads burrowing into Rev’s frame thickened, writhing with increasing urgency as they drank deeper. Every attempt Rev made to escape only tightened its grip. The engine screamed, pistons hammering so hard Hex could feel the vibrations rattling his bones, but the pothole adapted instantly, its hold shifting to counter every desperate surge forward or sideways. Gears ground together in protest, metal-on-metal screeches echoing off the canyon walls. Tailpipe flames sputtered weakly, guttering like candles in a hurricane wind before going out entirely.
Hex watched, fists clenched until his knuckles went white, as Rev leaned hard left—then right—the tires scrabbling for purchase that didn’t exist. Chrome surfaces flexed, strained, and warped further under the relentless pull, reflecting twisted versions of the canyon around them. The bike’s movements were frantic, intelligent, desperate—but utterly futile. The pothole anticipated each move before it happened, adjusting its shape and grip with predatory precision. It wasn’t just a trap. It was alive, sentient, smart. And it knew it had won.
The realization settled over Hex like a collapsing ceiling. Trapped. Completely trapped. Even breathing felt impossible against the suffocating weight of it. He glanced at the shifting road again, saw how the cracks spread wider, curling toward Rev like grasping fingers. The malevolence was palpable, pressing down on him, seeping into his chest until every heartbeat felt poisoned. The canyon—the road—the pothole—they weren’t just obstacles. They were hunters.
Escape wasn’t just difficult. It wasn’t just unlikely.
It was impossible.
Chapter 7
The pothole pulsed. Once. Twice. A third time, like some diseased heart buried beneath the road. Each beat sent jagged shadows crawling across the asphalt, as if the darkness itself had come alive and was spreading its sickness. Hex staggered back, boots slipping slightly on the warped surface. His hands twitched at his sides, fingers itching for a weapon or a spell or something, but every instinct screamed at him that anything he tried would be useless.
And then it began to rise.
The asphalt split open with a wet, tearing sound, not unlike flesh being rent apart. Black ichor oozed from the cracks, thick and gleaming, reeking of decay and burnt metal. It pooled around the edges of the pothole before sliding inward, feeding whatever horror stirred within. The ground shuddered violently under Hex's feet, forcing him to stumble again. He caught himself with one hand, palm pressing into the slick surface, and immediately regretted it—the cold burned his skin like dry ice.
From the widening fissure emerged a shape too wrong to describe fully. Its limbs—if they could even be called that—were too many, too sharp, too angular. Joints bent in directions that made Hex’s stomach lurch. It was smaller than he’d expected, no taller than a dog, but its presence filled the canyon like an eclipse swallowing the sun. Its body seemed stitched together from mismatched pieces, jagged plates of chitinous armor fused over raw, writhing muscle. Where there should have been eyes, only empty sockets remained, yet it looked at him all the same, its gaze heavier than stone.
And then it spoke.
The sound hit Hex like a physical blow, slamming into his chest and driving the air from his lungs. The words—no, not words—were guttural, scraping syllables that grated against the inside of his skull like nails on bone. His ears rang, his teeth vibrated in their sockets, and his arcane senses flared painfully, warning him of contamination. Every syllable carried weight, a malicious gravity that pressed down on him, threatening to crush him where he stood. This wasn’t just language—it was an invasion, something ancient and venomous clawing its way into his mind.
Hex fell to one knee, clutching his head, bile rising in his throat. The world tilted, warped by the cacophony of sounds that didn’t belong here—or anywhere.
When the thing turned its attention toward Rev, the chrome groaned as though crying out in pain.
The Entity lunged, its movements impossibly fast for something so misshapen. One jagged limb shot out, striking Revenant’s side with a screech of tearing metal. Sparks exploded in bright arcs, illuminating the creature's grotesque form. Rev bucked violently beneath Hex, his frame groaning under the force of the impact. Another blow landed on the tailpipe, crumpling it inward with a metallic shriek that echoed through the canyon. The sound was wrong—like hearing a scream ripped from steel itself.
Hex gritted his teeth as the vibrations rattled through him, each strike threatening to throw him off balance. The Entity didn’t let up. Its claws raked across Rev’s chrome surfaces, leaving deep gouges that marred the once-pristine finish. Each swipe landed with a wet crunch, as though the creature were tearing through flesh rather than metal. The stench of burnt oil and scorched rubber filled the air, choking and acrid.
Then came the jolt—a hard, violent twist from the pothole’s grip that sent Hex slamming forward against Rev’s handlebars. Pain shot through his ribs, but it was the sharp clatter of plastic hitting asphalt that caught his attention. The USB drive skittered across the road, tumbling end over end until it came to rest just inches from the Entity.
The change was instantaneous.
One moment, the creature was a blur of claws and fury, tearing into Rev with relentless malice. The next, it froze mid-strike, every jagged edge of its body snapping toward the small black drive. Its posture shifted, tilting unnaturally as if magnetized by the object. Hex felt the shift in the air—a tangible snapping of focus, like a storm cloud suddenly swirling around a single point. The Entity’s empty sockets locked onto the USB drive, and the intensity of its gaze made Hex’s skin prickle. It wasn’t just interest—it was obsession, an unrelenting pull that seemed to warp the very space between the creature and the drive.
Hex’s mind raced. The significance hit him like a sledgehammer. Whatever this thing wanted, whatever it hunted... it wasn’t them. Not really. It was the data.
Hex’s fingers twitched, hovering over the USB drive. His jaw clenched so hard it ached, the muscle ticking like a faulty engine. What are you doing? he thought, glaring at the little black device in his hand. Let it take the damn thing. Rev’s dying here. Rev.
His eyes darted to the motorcycle trapped in the pothole, frame warping under the magical energy coursing through it. Chrome dulled, then flared, each pulse weaker than the last. Rev’s engine groaned—a pained, guttural sound Hex had never heard before. He swallowed thickly, throat dry as sandpaper. “Hold on, buddy,” he muttered, voice cracking. But the words felt hollow even to him.
The Entity loomed closer, its jagged limbs twitching with barely restrained hunger. It didn’t care about them anymore—it wanted the drive. This is your way out, Hex told himself. Toss it. Save Rev. Simple.
But his hand tightened reflexively around the USB instead, knuckles whitening. And then what? Walk away empty-handed? After all this? No. His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a second, shame flickered across his face—just long enough to make him look away.
Rev shuddered again, metal creaking in protest. Hex winced, shoulders hunching as if bracing against the sound. He’d do the same for me, he thought bitterly. Die for me.
He hesitated a heartbeat longer, staring at his trembling fist. Then, with a sharp exhale, he clenched the drive tightly in his palm.
The moment passed. His decision was final.
The Entity froze mid-lunge, talons inches from Rev’s battered frame. Its jagged body twitched, joints locking as if seized by an electric current. A low, guttural hiss escaped it—no, not a hiss. More like the sound of grinding stones stuttering to a halt. Its empty sockets snapped toward the horizon, twitching erratically.
Then it moved.
Frantic. Jerky. Wrong.
It scuttled sideways, limbs scraping against the asphalt with chaotic urgency, before whirling back to Rev. Claws raked at the pothole’s edges this time, not Rev himself. Chunks of tar flew as it dug furiously, its earlier precision replaced by wild, desperate energy. The Entity’s form blurred with motion, too fast and too frenzied to track.
Hex’s gut clenched. Something was coming.
Chapter 8
Chox didn’t waste a second. His left hand shot up, fingers splayed in a practiced gesture that felt as natural as breathing. The air around him crackled faintly, charged with the familiar hum of magic he’d wielded countless times before. Blue light flared across his palm, glowing steady and sure—simple, reliable dispelling energy. This wasn’t flashy work; this was bread-and-butter stuff. He drew the glyph mid-air with precision, his movements economical, no wasted motion.
Nothing happened.
The pothole sat there, unbothered, its edges as sharp and solid as ever. Rev’s frame groaned faintly within it, chrome flickering weakly but otherwise inert. Even the air above the pothole shimmered for half a heartbeat, distorting like heat waves over asphalt—then settled back into perfect stillness. The magic dissipated without so much as a ripple, leaving Chox’s hand glowing uselessly before fading entirely.
Damn it, just a simple dispel! Frustration knotted in his chest, but he swallowed it down. Tried to. His jaw clenched instead. Another twitch of effort—a sharper snap of his fingers—and again, nothing changed. The pothole didn’t even acknowledge the attempt. If anything, the stubborn silence of it all made the weight of failure heavier.
His breath hitched slightly, annoyance bleeding into disbelief. “Not gonna break, huh?” He muttered under his breath, voice tight.
Reaching deeper, his hands began tracing more complex patterns now, desperation creeping at the edges.
Chox shifted his stance, boots scraping against the asphalt as he crouched low. Both hands rose this time, fingers tracing glyphs in the air that lingered like smoke before dissipating. His breaths came sharper now, each exhale visible in the cooling dawn air. He didn’t bother muttering incantations; words wouldn’t help here. This spell required precision, control—something raw and visceral.
The first sigil he drew flared bright red, hovering briefly above the pothole like a warning beacon. A second followed, then a third, each more intricate than the last. They connected in mid-air, forming a net of glowing threads that hummed faintly, vibrating with potential energy. When he slammed his palm into the ground, an arc of light erupted from the dirt, streaking toward the pothole.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the pothole moved. Its edges pulsed darkly, veins of shadow spreading outward like cracks forming on glass. The surface beneath Rev tightened, gripping harder, almost hungrily. The magical net Chox had crafted unraveled in seconds, its energy absorbed by the pothole with a faint hiss, like water sizzling on hot iron.
That can’t be right. His stomach churned. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Magic didn’t just get eaten—it didn’t feed the damn thing. But it had. The pothole seemed larger now, deeper, its edges shimmering with unnatural darkness.
A screech broke his focus—sharp, guttural, and close. Too close. The Entity lunged again, claws raking across Revenant’s chrome with a sound that set Chox’s teeth on edge. Deep gouges appeared where pristine metal had been moments ago. Chox reached out instinctively, channeling the smallest thread of mending magic toward the damage. Nothing. Not even a flicker of repair.
That's not good. His mind raced, panic clawing at the edges.
Chox barely glanced at the gouges marring Rev’s chrome. A flick of his wrist, a muttered syllable sharp as a curse, and a thin wisp of green light trailed from his fingertips to the scratches. It sputtered out before it even reached the metal. Not a single mark faded. The damage stayed raw, glaring back at him like an accusation.
The Entity screeched again, louder this time—sharp, wet sounds that grated against his skull. Its form writhed, unnatural joints bending wrong ways as it clawed furiously at Rev. Claws scraped along chrome with a grating shriek, each strike reverberating through the tense silence between them. [Skraaakh-ssth!] it hissed, the infernal syllables twisting into something guttural and jagged, laced with venomous urgency. [Kraaash-thul!] Another swipe, harder, more desperate.
Behind it all, engines roared closer, tires biting into asphalt. Voices barked orders, shouts cutting through the chaos. Magic hummed faintly in the distance—a low thrumming vibration that Chox recognized too well. They were almost here. Whatever tools or tricks they'd brought, their presence loomed like a storm front about to break.
The Entity went berserk, thrashing wildly. Claws gouged deeper, leaving trails of dark residue along Rev's frame. Its body spasmed unnaturally, limbs flailing as it snapped its jaws at empty air. [Ssthaaa-korr!] The sound tore through the canyon, primal and vicious. It lunged again, slamming itself repeatedly against the trapped motorcycle, heedless of its own injuries.
And still, the rumble of engines grew louder. Closer. Practically on top of them now.
Chapter 9
The air thickened, pressing against Coyote Hex like an invisible vice. It wasn’t just the roar of engines or the acrid stench of burnt rubber and ozone—it was magic, raw and invasive, seeping into his senses like oil spreading through water. His skin prickled with static electricity, every hair standing on end as though the atmosphere itself had turned hostile. Spells that had been second nature now faltered before they even took shape; his fingers twitched uselessly, glyphs dissolving into nothing as soon as he tried to draw them.
Too much. It’s too much. He clenched his fists, trying to push back against the suffocating weight of foreign magic saturating the canyon. It felt wrong—like swallowing something sharp-edged, jagged in his chest where his own power usually flowed smoothly. Each attempt at casting left him more drained, the contractors’ looming presence chewing through his focus like rust eating metal.
The entity screamed again, its voice cracking under the strain of sheer panic. Its movements were no longer calculated—just frantic, reckless slashes aimed at anything within reach. Claws gouged deeper into Rev’s already battered frame, leaving trails of dark ichor that smeared across chrome. Its body convulsed unnaturally, limbs twisting at impossible angles as it scrabbled for purchase on the slick surface. A low, guttural growl vibrated beneath its shrieks, a sound born of terror rather than malice. It wasn’t attacking out of hunger anymore—it was lashing out blindly, trying to escape.
Rev groaned beneath him, the mechanical whine strained but defiant. Even trapped, even damaged, the faint gleam remained—a stubborn shimmer along the edges of his chrome. It flickered weakly, like candlelight trembling against a gale, yet it held. That small spark of resistance caught Coyote Hex’s eye. He stared at it, unblinking, as pieces clicked together in his mind. Rev’s chrome didn’t just reflect—it resonated. It could hold magic, if only briefly. And maybe, just maybe, that resonance could be weaponized.
Behind them, the roar of engines crescendoed, tires screeching as they rounded the bend. The contractors’ voices barked commands, sharp and clipped, cutting through the chaos like blades. Their magic pulsed stronger, filling the road with an oppressive hum that rattled his teeth. The walls of the canyon seemed to close in, narrowing their world to this moment—a trapped motorcycle, a desperate wizard, and a panicked creature scrabbling for survival.
Time ran out faster than he could think. There was no room left for mistakes.
The entity’s head whipped back and forth, its movements jerky and disjointed like a marionette controlled by an unsteady hand. One moment, its black, sunken eyes locked onto Rev’s chrome frame, gleaming hungrily; the next, its body recoiled as though struck, twisting toward the distant growl of engines. Its claws scrabbled futilely at the road, gouging shallow grooves into the asphalt before pulling back. The guttural snarls morphed into high-pitched keening, then dropped into a low, guttural rumble—all within seconds. Panic bled through its every movement, erratic and wild, as if caught between two predators, unsure which one posed the greater threat.
The air crackled louder now, sharp pops resonating in Coyote Hex’s ears like the snapping of dry twigs underfoot. Then came the pressure—a suffocating weight pressing down on his shoulders, squeezing his lungs until each breath felt like dragging air through tar. The sound shifted, climbing in pitch until it resembled the shriek of metal being torn apart. It wasn’t just noise anymore—it was everywhere, crawling across his skin like insects made of static electricity. His jaw clenched against the assault, teeth grinding together as the sensation grew unbearable.
Reality itself began to fray at the edges. The road shimmered faintly, wavering like heat haze over asphalt, except there was no sun here to cause it. Shadows stretched unnaturally, bending and twisting into shapes that couldn’t exist. For a split second, the horizon tilted, bending upward into an impossible curve before snapping back into place. Colors blurred, bleeding into one another like watercolors left out in the rain. The canyon walls seemed to lean inward, their angles warping subtly, then violently, before snapping back with a near-audible snap.
The magical pressure reached a breaking point, pressing down with the force of an avalanche. Every nerve ending screamed in protest, his vision narrowing to pinpricks of light. The contractors’ engines roared closer—impossibly loud, impossibly close. And in that moment, the entity froze, its trembling form rigid, as if bracing for impact. The pothole pulsed ominously beneath Rev, its grip tightening like a vice.
Then everything went still.
The silence stretched taut, fragile as glass, and Coyote Hex knew the contractors were almost here.
Chapter 10
The entity lunged again, all jagged angles and snapping jaws. Its claws tore at Rev’s frame with enough force to send shivers through the motorcycle’s structure, each strike reverberating in Coyote Hex’s bones. Chrome peeled back under the assault, curling away like burnt paper, and for the first time, Rev let out a mechanical groan that sounded almost pained. The entity’s movements were wild, erratic—like a cornered animal lashing out without thought or pattern—but its desperation made it dangerous. It screeched in infernal tones, guttural growls spilling into high-pitched wails as its body spasmed mid-attack, twisting unnaturally before striking again.
Behind them, the canyon roared to life. Tires screamed against asphalt as vehicles rounded the curve, their headlights slicing through the gloom like predatory eyes locking onto prey. The sound hit first—a deep, guttural rumble that rattled his teeth, followed by the sharp whine of engines modified beyond normal limits. Then they emerged: sleek, armored trucks with angular designs that looked more weapon than vehicle, their frames bristling with mounted guns and glowing magical sigils etched into their chassis. The air shimmered around them, distorting light as if they carried their own pocket of warped reality. From the lead truck, a lance of blue-white energy shot forward, carving a smoking trench into the road just feet ahead. A warning—or a demonstration.
Coyote Hex didn’t waste time watching. His hands moved fast, fingers tracing patterns in the air so precise they might have been drawn with a ruler. Arcs of golden light followed his movements, spiraling outward before sinking into Rev’s chrome. The metal drank it in hungrily, the surface rippling like liquid before settling into an iridescent sheen. Each layer of magic hummed with potential, vibrating against his fingertips like plucked strings. The chrome began to glow faintly, pulsing in time with his heartbeat, and Rev’s engine rumbled louder, almost defiantly.
The entity didn’t stop. If anything, it grew more frenzied, its attacks coming faster but less coordinated. One claw glanced off Rev’s newly reinforced side, leaving a shallow scratch that vanished as the chrome repaired itself instantly. Another swipe caught the tailpipe, bending it slightly, but the damage halted there, unable to penetrate further. The creature let out a frustrated howl, its body twisting unnaturally before slamming itself against Rev’s frame again. Blood—or something like it—dripped from its claws, staining the road dark.
Above the chaos, the contractors’ engines idled menacingly, their vehicles creeping forward like wolves circling wounded prey. The lead truck’s turret swiveled, tracking their position with mechanical precision. The glow of its sigils intensified, bathing the canyon in an unnatural light. Somewhere in the convoy, a voice barked orders through a megaphone, cold and clipped, though the words were lost beneath the rumble of engines and the crackle of gathering magical energy.
Coyote Hex’s hands blurred through the final gestures, weaving together strands of power into a dense lattice. The magic settled over Rev like a second skin, the chrome gleaming brighter now, almost blinding. When the entity lunged one last time, its claws met a surface too smooth, too perfect to grip. They slid off harmlessly, and for the first time, the creature hesitated, its black eyes darting between Rev, Hex, and the approaching convoy.
In that hesitation, Coyote Hex finished his work. Rev’s engine surged, the hum of magic resonating through every inch of metal. The contractors shifted into position, weapons raising in unison, and the canyon filled with the sound of loading mechanisms and chanting voices.
The contractors struck as one, their assault a masterpiece of coordination and raw power. Magical energy coiled around their weapons, crackling like storm clouds before a hurricane. From the lead truck, a beam of searing white light lanced out, trailing arcs of electricity that split the air with a sound like tearing fabric. Behind it came a volley of bullets enchanted to glow with an unnatural green hue, each round humming with lethal intent. The canyon walls shimmered under the barrage, reality itself buckling under the strain of so much concentrated force.
The entity screamed—a raw, guttural wail that clawed at Chox's ears—but its voice was drowned out by the contractors’ symphony of destruction. Its claws raked futilely at Rev’s chrome, now gleaming with an otherworldly brilliance. The motorcycle shuddered beneath him, but the metal held firm, every inch of it vibrating with the magic Hex had poured into it. For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just this: the weight of his hands on Rev's handlebars and the pulse of magic thrumming through the bike like a heartbeat.
Then the attack hit.
Rev’s chrome flared, brighter than sunlight, brighter than anything Chox had ever seen. The reflected energy surged back at the contractors with devastating precision, turning their own assault against them. Bullets ricocheted wildly, some embedding in the canyon walls while others tore through their own ranks. The beam of light twisted mid-air, striking one of the trailing trucks with enough force to send it flipping end over end, its sigils exploding in a shower of sparks. Chaos erupted among their forces—shouts of alarm, the screech of tires losing traction, the roar of engines revving too hard too fast. One vehicle detonated in a fireball of orange and black, sending shockwaves rippling through the ground beneath Chox’s feet.
But the barrier wasn’t perfect. The sheer volume of energy overwhelmed even Rev’s enhanced defenses. A jagged shard of magic slipped through, slamming into the road between Chox and the entity with enough force to split the asphalt like dry earth. The explosion that followed was deafening—a maelstrom of heat, noise, and light that hurled Chox off Rev and sent him skidding across the ground. Heat seared his skin, and the acrid stench of burnt rubber and scorched stone filled his lungs. The world blurred, colors bleeding together as debris rained down around him.
When the smoke finally began to clear, the canyon was unrecognizable. Craters pockmarked the once-pristine road, their edges glowing faintly with residual magic. Fires smoldered in the wreckage, painting the remaining vehicles in flickering amber light. And yet, amid the devastation, there was silence—broken only by the faint crackle of dying flames and the distant echo of settling dust. Revenant was gone. The entity was gone. Even the pothole had vanished, leaving no trace of its malevolent presence.
Dawn broke over the horizon, casting long shadows across the ruined road. Chox stood slowly, the USB drive still clutched tightly in his hand. His body ached, his clothes were torn, and ash clung to his skin like a second layer. He turned west, toward the rising sun, and began to walk.
The road ahead stretched endlessly, empty and unknown. Each step carried the weight of choices made and fates left uncertain, the dawn both a promise and a question mark.