Night cloaked the world like a funeral shroud as Ezrah and Aira crossed the breach in the wall. The only sound was the crunch of ash under their boots and the low hum of tension between them.
The ruins before them weren't just abandoned buildings. They were the skeletons of a time before fear ruled everything. Collapsed churches, broken signs, twisted playground swings that moved on their own in the wind. Nothing felt sacred out here. Not anymore.
Ezrah adjusted the straps on his blade. "How much further?"
Aira scanned the distant smoke rising beyond a row of hollowed apartments. Her voice was cold, but steady. "The Hollowborn gather near the Crater. That's where he died."
"Kaien?"
She nodded once.
Ezrah hesitated, then said, "You don't have to prove anything to me."
"I'm not," she replied. "I'm proving it to myself."
In the Shadows
They moved like ghosts.
Two figures against a city that no longer cared whether they lived or died. Every step forward was a gamble. Every gust of wind felt like a whisper from something waiting to drag them under.
Suddenly—
Crack.
Ezrah turned sharply. "Did you hear that?"
Aira already had her blade drawn. A slow, slithering sound echoed from the alley to their left. Then, silence again.
And then—movement.
Fast. Inhuman.
A shadow darted across the wall. Long claws. Ribcage open like a flower. Hollowborn.
Ezrah lunged forward, slashing at its flank. The blade connected, but not deep enough. The creature screeched, its voice like a scream buried in a whisper.
Aira's blade moved with silent precision.
One strike to the neck.
It dropped—twisting, snarling, then still.
"Only one?" Ezrah asked, panting.
"No," Aira muttered, her eyes narrowing. "That one was watching.
A Quiet Shelter
They ducked into a half-collapsed bookstore. Aira knew the place. Her fingers brushed against the dusty spine of a children's story she remembered reading before the world ended.
Ezrah sat in the corner, catching his breath. "Why are they watching now?"
"They're evolving," Aira whispered. "Getting smarter. More… coordinated."
Ezrah stared at her, the firelight flickering against his face. "You know something. About them."
Aira was silent for a moment too long.
"Tell me," he said.
"They were never just monsters," she replied finally. "Not to me."
He blinked. "What do you mean?"
She didn't answer. Just stood and moved toward the exit again.
"Let's go," she said. "We're almost there."
Ezrah's stomach twisted. He didn't know if he was more afraid of what was out there…
…or of what was inside Aira
Far Ahead
The Crater was still smoldering.
A pit of scorched earth and bones. Black feathers littered the ground—remnants of Hollowborn wings. Blood stained the stone. Kaien's final stand had happened here.
Aira stepped to the center. Closed her eyes. She could still see him. Hear his laugh. The weight of his blanket still lingered on her skin.
She knelt.
A silent prayer.
Ezrah kept watch.
Then—
"You shouldn't have come back here."
A voice from behind them.
Deep. Familiar.
They turned slowly.
And standing on the crater's edge… was someone they both thought had died weeks ago.