Maurice found Harry out near the back patio of the manor, leaning against the railing with a drink in hand while staring out into the darkness surrounding the estate,
"Hey," Maurice called as he walked up. "You seen David?"
Harry glanced over. "No. Why?"
Maurice shoved his hands into his pockets. "He's been gone for hours, man. It's already dark out."
Harry shrugged lazily. "I'm sure he's fine." Then a grin crept onto his face. "Probably jerking off in one of the empty houses or something."
Maurice barked out a laugh despite himself. "The hell is wrong with you?"
Harry laughed too, taking another sip.
Maurice's smile faded quicker though. "Nah… seriously. This ain't like him." He looked toward the dark treeline. "David disappearing for a few minutes? Sure. But hours?"
Harry studied him for a second before answering. "Well… maybe he just needed some space." He shrugged again. "You know how he gets. Probably wants some 'leave me the hell alone' time."
Maurice exhaled slowly. "Yeah… maybe."
Harry nudged his shoulder lightly. "He'll come back. Guy's too stubborn to die."
Maurice nodded, though the unease still lingered on his face. "Alright. If you see him, tell him to find me. I need help moving some stuff."
"Sure," Harry said. "Assuming he ain't busy with his very important alone time."
Maurice rolled his eyes. "You're an idiot."
"Correct."
With that, Maurice gave Harry one last nod and headed back inside the manor. The old wooden doors creaked softly behind him as he entered.
~~~
The lead vehicle slowed first, its headlights sweeping across the overgrown roadside before pulling to a stop.
Ava climbed out.
One by one, the rest of the convoy began slowing behind her.
Lucas parked the RV along the shoulder and stepped outside, boots crunching softly against gravel.
Night swallowed most of the world around them. Only pale moonlight and scattered headlights gave shape to the darkness.
Ava walked toward the group, arms folded against the cold night air. "We're here."
Lucas raised a flashlight and swept the beam toward the large fenced compound ahead.
The light passed over thick walls, rusted gates—
Then landed on a billboard beside the entrance.
HAVENWALL
Home for the Nation's Retired Heroes
Grand Opening — Summer 2025
An old photograph of a decorated soldier stood beside the text, smiling proudly in full uniform.
Lucas lowered the flashlight slightly. "…Retirement home."
Ava nodded. "Yeah." She glanced toward the compound. "My grandpa's old military buddies were supposed to move here. Place was basically finished already. They were just waiting on permits and legal crap before opening."
A dry laugh escaped her. "Then the apocalypse happened and now… well. Here we are."
Ysa stepped closer to the gate, her eyes slowly adjusting. Her night vision sharpened the shadows into detail.
Lucas noticed. "What do you see?"
Ysa scanned the interior quietly. "Walls," she said softly. "Small houses."
A pause.
"It looks… peaceful."
The word felt strange after everything they had survived.
Lucas turned back toward Ava. "Your dad mentioned a river nearby?"
Ava frowned thoughtfully. "Well… I'm not totally sure. We've only been here once." She dug through her bag and unfolded a worn map beneath the flashlight beam. "But according to Dad, there should be a river about seven minutes from here on foot."
She pointed toward the dark forest bordering the compound. "Probably through there."
Lucas nodded once. "Alright, listen up."
The group's attention shifted immediately toward him.
"We rest here tonight." He pointed around the roadside perimeter. "Park the vehicles in a circular formation. Keep the center protected."
Then toward the compound gates.
"At dawn, we scout the place and clear it properly before anybody settles in."
Everyone nodded.
Within minutes, engines rumbled as the convoy repositioned itself. The vehicles formed a rough defensive circle around the group like a makeshift steel wall.
In the center, Dylan crouched near a pile of gathered wood, striking sparks into dry tinder until flames finally caught. A campfire slowly rose to life. Orange light flickered across exhausted faces.
Duncan and Ethan took first watch for the next five hours while the others began settling down for what little rest they could manage.
~~~
For some, exhaustion won easily.
Inside the RV and the surrounding vehicles, quiet breathing and soft snores slowly replaced conversation as people finally drifted into much-needed sleep.
But for Ysa and Dylan, sleep never came. Worry kept clawing at the edges of their minds.
Ysa eventually gave up trying. She quietly climbed out of the RV, careful not to wake the others, then pulled herself onto the roof where Duncan and Ethan were keeping watch beneath the pale moonlight.
Ethan sat with his rifle across his lap, head dipping every few seconds before jerking back awake again.
Ysa walked over and lightly tugged his shoulder. "Hey."
Ethan blinked blearily at her. "Hm?"
"You should go sleep," Ysa said. "I'll take over for you."
Ethan yawned hard enough his eyes watered. "You sure?"
"Yeah." She nodded toward the ladder. "Go. Before you fall off the roof."
Ethan gave a tired laugh. "Fair point." He pushed himself up slowly. "Wake me up if anything tries to eat us."
"No promises," Duncan muttered.
Ethan flipped him off weakly before climbing back down into the RV.
Silence settled again after he left.
Duncan glanced sideways at Ysa. "Couldn't sleep, huh?"
Ysa lowered herself beside him. "Nope." Her fingers absentmindedly brushed over the Aethryx mark on her wrist.
Duncan noticed immediately. "You worried about Yve?"
Ysa let out a quiet breath through her nose. "I'm always worried about her."
That earned the faintest smile from Duncan. "Yeah," he admitted. "Can't really blame you there."
Ysa's gaze drifted toward the dark forest beyond the firelight. "I keep thinking about earlier." Her fingers pressed lightly against the mark. "She was overwhelmed with grief and rage that it bled through our bond like that."
Duncan's expression grew more serious. "…Yeah." He leaned back slightly against the RV roof. "I can't stop thinking about it either."
The campfire below crackled softly in the night.
Ysa hugged her arms loosely around herself. "I just hope everything's okay."
A pause.
"I really don't like this feeling."
Duncan looked out toward the darkness too. "I'm sure they're alright." He spoke calmly, though even he sounded like he was trying to convince himself. "We help out here for a bit, then we head home. Okay?"
Ysa nodded faintly. "Yeah." Her voice was quieter now. "We can't stay here much longer."
"Definitely not," Duncan muttered. A tired grin tugged briefly at the corner of his mouth. "I'm getting homesick."
That almost made Ysa smile.
Almost.
Instead, she just sighed heavily and rested her chin on her knees while the two of them kept watch beneath the cold midnight sky.
~~~
Far beyond the boundaries of mortal worlds, above the layered fabric of reality itself, Silver stood within the silent halls of the Confluence Realm once more.
The vast chamber shimmered with cosmic light.
Streams of celestial data drifted through the air like living constellations while enormous structures moved slowly in the distance, mechanisms older than civilizations quietly continuing their endless work.
Silver stood before Master Corintha with his head slightly bowed. Her robes flowed weightlessly behind her as though untouched by gravity or time itself.
Silver extended the tablet respectfully toward her.
Corintha took it and reviewed the contents in silence.
The only sound was the faint hum of the realm around them. Several moments passed before she finally spoke. "Are you certain of these findings?" Her eyes lifted toward him. "This is an extremely grave accusation."
The atmosphere sharpened instantly. "To falsely accuse another of such crimes would warrant severe punishment."
Silver lowered his gaze further. "I would never dare deceive His Grace," he said carefully. "I am merely reporting a crime."
A pause.
"And fulfilling my duty as His Grace's most trusted investigator."
Corintha studied him for a long moment. Then her gaze returned to the tablet. "This may be connected to the summons His Grace received earlier…" She murmured the thought more to herself than to him.
At last, she closed the report. "Very well, Silver." She stepped closer to him. "If your claims prove correct…"
A faint pause lingered.
"You will be rewarded accordingly."
Silver placed a hand over his chest respectfully. "Reward is not why I serve." His voice remained smooth and controlled. "To serve His Grace is reward enough."
Corintha gave a single acknowledging nod. Then she turned away, her robes trailing behind her as she disappeared deeper into the luminous halls of the Confluence Realm.
~~~
The remains of Reefville were quieter now.
The dead had been buried. Only ruins, drifting ash, lingering smell of blood remained.
At the table inside the Virellis house, General Excellus sat beside Chieftess Yen. For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then Excellus finally broke the silence. "What are your orders, Chieftess?"
Yen kept her eyes fixed ahead. Her voice was calm again, but exhaustion weighed heavily beneath it. "First… we find our people."
A slight pause.
"We gather every surviving resident we can and bring them somewhere safe."
Excellus nodded immediately. "Understood." He hesitated before continuing. "Should we request aid from neighboring villages and cities?"
At that, Yen's expression darkened slightly. "We already sought their help once." Bitterness edged her voice now. "They turned us away over something as simple as signatures and formal recognition."
Her jaw tightened.
"If they would not even believe our warnings before the attack, what makes you think they will send reinforcements now?" A cold silence followed. "Many died because of their ignorance."
Nearby, Mercedius slowly approached them. "We should still try, Yen." His tone was gentle but firm. "We are not in a position to refuse potential assistance out of pride or anger."
He looked toward the window. "The more allies we involve, the faster we may locate scattered survivors."
Yen exhaled slowly through her nose. She knew he was right. That was the frustrating part.
"At least I know Ysa is safe." Her voice softened faintly at her daughter's name. "She was with Yve's human family on the surface before we departed for the Confluence Realm."
But then her expression shifted again. Worry returning. Heavy.
"But Yve…"
For the first time since the discussion began, uncertainty fully entered her voice.
"I do not know where my firstborn is."
The words lingered painfully in the cold waters of ruined Reefville.
~~~
Maurice leaned over the radio again, the static hiss from the speaker a poor match for the drumming of rain against the manor's windows. He pressed the transmit button, his knuckles white. "David… come on man, where are you? It's pouring out here. We're starting to get worried. Over."
Only static answered him. He exhaled sharply through his nose.
Harry and Jordan came in fast through the doorway, shaking water from their jackets.
"Any luck?" Jordan asked, his voice tight.
Maurice shook his head without looking up. "Nothing. He's not picking up."
"We checked the estate perimeter too," Harry added, running a hand through his damp hair. "No sign of him. Tracks are all washed out."
The rain hammered harder, a relentless percussion that filled the silence.
Harrison stepped closer, his brow furrowed. "Are you sure he didn't say where he was going?"
Maurice scoffed under his breath. "That's the thing with David. He doesn't exactly 'say' where he's going. Guy just… disappears." He gestured toward the window. "But he doesn't usually take a walk in a damn monsoon."
Harrison nodded once, his expression grave. "Try the radio again."
Maurice didn't argue. He leaned forward, grabbed the receiver, and keyed it again. "David," he said firmly, trying to project his voice through the crackle. "This is Maurice from the manor. Come in, David. Come in. Over."
Static. Long. Unbroken. A flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed by a low rumble of thunder that vibrated through the floorboards.
Just beyond the manor's walls and deep within the forest, another radio crackled faintly to life. A burst of distorted static rolled through the rain-soaked trees like a whisper. Maurice's voice echoed back through the dark.
Then—
Something shifted in the dark. A shape moved just beyond the reach of the moonlight—slow, unsteady, almost wrong in how it formed.
A hand reached out, its fingers flexed once, like locking into place. And then it closed around the radio.
Back at the manor, Maurice paced near the dining table, his agitation building with every flash of lightning. "The second I see David," he muttered, "I'm gonna give him hell. I swear—"
Harrison glanced over calmly. "Don't jump the gun. He's probably holed up somewhere."
Maurice opened his mouth—
Then the radio cracked. A burst of static ripped through the speaker, sharp and clear over the storm.
Everyone froze.
Then a voice came through. Broken. Low. Strained. "Maurice… I'm coming. Over."
The room went dead silent.
Maurice snapped toward the radio instantly. "Wait—what?"
Harry straightened. Jordan frowned. Harrison's expression tightened slightly.
Maurice grabbed the receiver and slammed the transmit button. "David! Man, where the hell have you been?" His voice sharpened. "Get your ass back here right now. We've been worried sick."
Static answered him.
A sharp knock hit the front door. Three heavy strikes.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
The entire manor froze.
Maurice's head snapped toward the sound immediately. "…That's him," he said, a wave of relief washing over him. Then, under his breath: "That son of a gun."
He stood up fast, chair scraping back, and headed for the front entrance. The others followed without thinking.
Maurice reached the door first, grabbed the cold brass handle, and yanked it open.
David stood on the porch, a dark silhouette against the storm. Rain plastered his hair to his skull and soaked his clothes, making them cling to his frame. His expression was flat, his eyes bruised and swollen. A thin line of blood, now pink and watery, ran down from his temple and was washed away by the downpour on his jaw.
Maurice stared at him. "What the hell happened to you?"
David blinked slowly, water dripping from his eyelashes. Then, quietly: "Can I come in?"
Maurice frowned, confused for a split second. Then frustration kicked in. "What the hell—yeah, get inside. You're letting all the rain in." He grabbed David by the arm and pulled him into the entryway, leaving a trail of puddles on the stone floor.
He grabbed David by the arm and pulled him in.
The moment David crossed the threshold, something shifted. He looked around the dimly lit hall, a faint, unnerving smile spreading across his face. "Woah… whew."
Maurice stopped cold, a chill that had nothing to do with the rain running down his spine. "…The hell are you smiling about?"
Harrison stepped in immediately, voice firm but controlled. "Alright. Let's get you checked. What happened out there?"
David blinked. "I… I fell."
Maurice scoffed, already pushing him deeper into the manor. "Like hell you fell. You look like you got dragged through a warzone. Why'd you even go out there in this weather?"
David paused. Then, quietly: "I don't know."
Harrison guided him to a chair. "Harry, get my medkit upstairs. Jordan—towels, water. Now."
Movement snapped back into the house. Everyone shifting into urgency.
David sat there, looking around the manor slowly. Still smiling faintly, his wet clothes dripping onto the floor.
Maurice returned with a glass of water and shoved it into his hand. "Why the hell do you keep smiling?" he asked sharply. "Something funny?"
David took the glass carefully. "I'm just happy."
Maurice stared at him. "You shouldn't be."
A beat.
"Because once you're patched up, I'm gonna beat the hell out of you for this. Going out like that, no word, no nothing—had us thinking you were dead. That's not cool, man."
David's smile didn't fade. He nodded slightly. "He's sorry."
Maurice frowned. "…Who's sorry?"
David straightened a little in his seat. And softly: "I'm sorry."
~~~
Morning came slowly, light bleeding through the treeline and washing over the parked convoy in dull gray. Engines were cold now. The campfire had collapsed into ash.
Lucas stood at the hood of a car, already back in command mode. "Alright," he called out, scanning the group. "Dylan, Ysa, Ava, Ethan, Victor, Joan—and me—we're going inside first."
He pointed toward Havenwall's gated compound. "We clear it, check for threats, map the layout. No wandering off alone. Stay in pairs minimum."
His gaze shifted. "The rest of you stay here and hold perimeter. Watch each other, stay alert."
Duncan stepped forward slightly as Lucas continued.
"Duncan—you're on river duty. Go check that stream Ava mentioned. See if it's usable. Water source, contamination, flow, whatever we're dealing with."
Duncan nodded once. "Got it."
Lucas exhaled through his nose, then tightened his grip on his rifle. "Move out in five."
Around them, the group broke into motion. Weapons checked. Bags tightened. Small conversations cut short.
Duncan moved first, he opened the door o the tidecraft, and drew his sword from the suspended water, then gave a brief nod to Kaiser, the Chief of Harborville..
Then he turned toward the forest line.
Alone.
He glanced back once at the convoy splitting into teams. "…Of course I get solo duty," he muttered under his breath. "Everyone else gets a buddy system. I get nature." He shook his head slightly and kept moving.
Behind him, the group advanced toward the Havenwall perimeter. The gates loomed closer now—tall, intact, imposing. Beyond them, the compound looked eerily preserved.
Rows of small houses stood untouched. Construction equipment still sat where it had been abandoned—bulldozers, a concrete mixer, and cargo trucks lined unevenly near the entrance like a project left mid-breath.
Lucas scanned the scene carefully. "Wow. This place is big." he said quietly. "Seems like we can farm here." His eyes lingered on the machinery. "We might actually be able to use some of this."
He glanced toward the others. "You think Duncan can get any of it running?"
Ysa gave him a sideways look. "If Duncan hears you doubting him like that, you're gonna hurt his feelings."
A few light chuckles broke through the tension.
Lucas smirked faintly. "Alright. Fair."
He raised his hand, refocusing the group. "Me and Joan will take left sector. You guys split, cover the rest. Mark anything unusual. Anything. I don't care how small it looks."
Ava lifted a paint can slightly, shaking it once. "Paint cans ready?"
A few nods answered her.
Lucas gave a final look over the group. "Move."
They split off immediately. Boots crunching gravel. Weapons raised. Eyes scanning.
Lucas and Joan reached a small security building near the inner perimeter. A squat building of reinforced concrete, half-hidden by overgrown shrubs and cracked pavement.
Lucas raised his flashlight and swept it across the entrance. Dust hung in the beam like suspended ash. He glanced at Joan.
She gave a single nod and brought her weapon up, steady and ready.
Lucas eased the door open. It resisted for a moment—then gave way with a low creak.
The air inside was stale after being undisturbed in years.
Lucas moved first, slow and controlled, flashlight leading.
Joan followed a step behind, covering angles.
They advanced deeper into the building. Halfway through the corridor, something moved.
Too fast to fully register. A figure stumbled into the edge of the light—wearing what used to be a military uniform, torn and decayed, movements jerky and unnatural.
Lucas reacted instantly.
One shot through the chest.
Clean.
The shrieker dropped with a thud, then silence snapped back into place.
Joan didn't lower her weapon immediately. "…Shrieker," she said quietly.
Lucas exhaled once through his nose. "Yeah." He swept the flashlight over the body again, confirming the condition, then motioned forward. "Keep moving."
They stepped over the fallen figure and continued deeper into the security building, the darkness ahead feeling tighter now than before.
Meanwhile, Ethan and Ava reached a three-storey hospital building. It stood slightly apart from the rest of Havenwall—larger, more fortified, its exterior marked with faded emergency signage and cracked glass panels that reflected the morning light in broken fragments.
Ava moved first, stepping toward the entrance—
Then stopped.
She noticed Ethan wasn't beside her. She turned halfway. "Hey," she called softly. "You alright?"
Ethan stood a few steps back, staring at the building without moving. For a moment, he didn't answer.
Then he exhaled. "…Yeah." A pause. "It just reminded me of Lara."
The name hung in the air briefly.
Ava's expression softened. She let out a slow breath through her nose. "Yeah…" She nodded toward the entrance. "Come on. We need to clear it."
Her tone shifted—more grounded now. "If there's anything inside, we need to make sure it doesn't turn into another Lara casualty."
Ethan's jaw tightened slightly. He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Yeah."
A beat.
Then he followed her forward.
Together, they stepped into the hospital.
On the far side of Havenwall, Ysa moved alone through the residential grid. Rows of small houses lined both sides of the street, each with identical fenced front yards, overgrown grass, and silent porches that looked like they had been waiting for years for someone to return.
She walked carefully, senses fully open—every faint sound mapped in her mind before it could become a threat.
She had already cleared several houses. Shriekers in various states of decay—some still in construction gear, others in military uniforms—taken down quickly whenever they appeared.
Crossing the street, her sharp ears caught a faint scuttling from her left. She didn't flinch. She didn't even look around. She just kept walking.
Then came the sound.
A high-pitched, ear-splitting shriek tore through the quiet morning as the creature launched itself from, a gaunt silhouette.
Ysa stopped. A slow, predatory smile touched her lips.
The shrieker charged, its limbs moving with unnatural speed. Ysa waited until the last possible second before sidestepping with a dancer's grace. The creature, unable to stop its momentum, slammed face-first into the pavement and skidded with a wet scraping sound.
A small giggle escaped her lips.
It scrambled up, its shriek now laced with hunger, and lunged again. This time, Ysa walked backward, her movements fluid and mocking, leading it on a futile chase. She ducked under a wild swing, twirled away from a clumsy grab, each time the shrieker overcommitted and tumbled, its taste for blood growing with each failure. The game was amusing, a brief, violent distraction.
But the amusement faded as quickly as it came. The worry about Yve returned, cold and sharp. She was done playing.
As the shrieker lunged for a fourth time, Ysa didn't dodge. She walked forward to meet it, her smile vanishing. She drove her fist straight into its chest with a sickening, wet crunch. The creature's shriek cut off in a choked gurgle.
Its body went rigid, suspended on her arm for a moment before she yanked her hand back.
Clutched in her fist was its still-beating heart, a black, pulpy mass. She looked at it for a second, her expression unreadable. Then, she squeezed. The organ burst in her grasp, a muffled, mushy sound lost in the open.
Before she could take another step, the air itself seemed to compress. It wasn't a sound, but a sudden, oppressive weight that pressed down on her, a silent scream from above.
Her gaze snapped upward.
At first, it was just a burning meteorite, a comet of fire and fury carving a hole through the misty sky. It fell impossibly fast, a vertical line of destruction aimed right at her. Then, in the space between one heartbeat and the next, recognition hit her like a physical blow. Her posture hardened, her body tensing not to flee, but to receive.
The shape slammed into the street before her, cracking the pavement and sending a shockwave of hot air that whipped her hair back.
Her sword, that she left in Emily's hands was before her. Still hot.
The moment her fingers closed around the hilt, searing pain shot up her arm. She flinched, the sword slipping for a fraction of a second before she caught it again, her grip tightening into a white-knuckled vise. The pain was a distant fire, immediately overruled by the cold dread that washed over her.
Her attention locked onto the blade.
The surface reflected her own stunned face back at her. Then her expression twisted into a mask of horror. Not from what she felt, but from what she saw.
A thick streak of crimson blood was smeared across the steel.
It was fresh. So fresh it was still wet, clinging to the metal with a dark, heavy weight that spoke of a life violently, recently, taken.
==================================
Author's Note;
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