The storm hit just after nightfall.
Wind howled through the shattered window frames, and rain hissed as it lashed the roof of the old outpost. The room where the three of them had set up camp flickered with dim lamplight, the flame dancing like it, too, feared the dark.
Nuel sat on a metal storage crate, staring at a rusted wall panel. A faded British flag was stenciled on the surface, half-buried beneath grime and time.
It was strange. Being in a place that once meant order. Safety.
Now it was just a ruin, like everything else.
Elara sat beside the fire, sketchpad resting on her knees. Her newest drawing was a mess of lines and shapes—more abstract than usual.
"Trying something different?" Nuel asked.
She glanced up. "I don't know what it is yet. It just… feels like something I've seen before."
He looked closer.
The lines almost formed a spiral—twisted, interlocking, with smaller runes or symbols hidden between.
"Maybe it's a memory," he offered.
She nodded, not quite smiling. "Maybe."
Across the room, Nyra was examining an old map cabinet, pulling open drawers filled with brittle papers and dust. She was always moving, always checking. Nuel had begun to realize it was less about suspicion and more about survival. She didn't know how to be still anymore.
"Find anything useful?" he asked.
She grunted, holding up a torn map. "Part of the southeast corridor. Most of it's outdated. But there's something odd in the notes."
She tossed it onto the floor between them. Nuel knelt down and smoothed the page.
Marked in red ink was a small area labeled "C-12: Rift Activity Logged – Cleared." Next to it, someone had scribbled the words: 'Subject retained – anomaly in resonance.'
"Subject?" Elara said quietly. "What does that mean?"
Nuel shook his head. "I don't know. But it doesn't sound good."
Nyra crossed her arms. "This was a research outpost during the early days after the Fracture. They were trying to study the Rift. Control it."
"Obviously that worked out great," Nuel muttered.
"They weren't ready," she replied. "Nobody was."
Elara's eyes hadn't left the map. "Maybe that's why I'm here."
Nyra raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
Elara touched the drawing in her lap—the spiral, the symbols. "I saw this when I first woke up… on the other side. In that place between places. It was carved into the walls. Pulsing with light. Like a doorway that hadn't opened yet."
Nuel felt a chill creep through him.
The bracelet on his wrist began to warm.
Soft. Barely noticeable.
But there.
Later that night, while Nyra patrolled the hallway, Nuel sat near one of the broken radio units. He couldn't help it. The static gave him something to focus on—like the world was still trying to speak, and he just hadn't figured out how to listen.
Elara sat across from him, hugging her knees.
"You think there's anyone else out there?" he asked.
She tilted her head. "Alive?"
"Yeah."
"I hope so," she whispered.
He nodded.
Silence fell again. But it wasn't empty.
Elara looked at him. "You lost someone, didn't you?"
The question came so softly it nearly disappeared into the sound of rain.
Nuel swallowed. "Yeah. My family. After the First Fracture."
Her gaze dropped to the floor. "I'm sorry."
"I don't know if they're dead," he admitted. "I mean… they probably are. But sometimes I dream things. Fragments. My sister's voice. My mum's laugh. A smell that feels like home. And I wake up wondering if it was just memory… or something trying to tell me they're still out there."
She didn't respond right away.
Then she reached into her satchel and pulled out a folded piece of cloth.
Unwrapping it slowly, she revealed a necklace—delicate silver, with a tiny crystal hanging from it. The crystal glowed faintly, like his bracelet.
"This is the only thing I had when I crossed over," she said. "I think it was a gift. But I don't remember who gave it to me."
Nuel leaned closer. "It's beautiful."
"I keep thinking maybe… if I remember where it came from, I'll know who I am."
He looked at her, really looked at her—how she sat like someone trying not to break. How she hid that ache behind grace and quiet observation.
"You're not alone," he said softly.
Elara smiled—not with her lips, but with her eyes.
The storm passed by dawn, leaving the forest wet and glistening. Mist clung to the trees like breath.
Nyra returned from her patrol with wet boots and a tighter expression than usual.
"Something's off," she said.
Nuel stood. "Off how?"
She pointed. "Tracks. Something came near the outpost last night. Didn't enter, but circled it twice."
"Riftlings?" Elara asked.
"Could be. Or worse."
Nuel's grip tightened on his crowbar. He hadn't used it since the night he first met Nyra, but the weight was familiar. Comforting.
"We should move soon," Nyra said. "There's another safehouse north of here. Half a day's walk."
Elara packed her things quickly. She moved quieter than before—more alert.
As they exited the outpost, Nuel glanced back once, taking in the broken radios, the firepit, and the dusty map still half-unrolled on the floor.
He wasn't sure why, but something about this place felt like the beginning of something bigger.
Not just survival.
But purpose.
He looked at Elara walking beside him. At Nyra scouting ahead.
And he realized—for the first time since the Fracture—he didn't feel completely alone.