Night smothered the slums of Arcem Futri in a cold that didn't just bite skin, it chewed through bone. The smilt drifting from the industrial shafts above fell like ash, coating rooftops, corpses, and children alike. In places like this, winter had long stopped being a season. It was a law.
Inside a half-collapsed alley shelter, three boys huddled around a blue flame barely holding itself together. The flame wasn't bright enough to warm them. Just bright enough to remind them they were still alive.
For now.
Gavin watched the fire shudder and spit as if it were struggling for the right to exist. His expression didn't shift, but his jaw tightened.
"This is all you two managed?" he asked.
His voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. Lux sat up straighter instantly, like a soldier being inspected.
"The patrols changed routes," Lux said, breath clouding the air. "We didn't expect it. I-I'm sorry. We got two waste packs and a strip of synth jerky."
Gavin didn't sigh. Didn't complain. Didn't scold. He simply stared for two long seconds, letting silence do the disciplining.
Then he nodded.
"You did what you could. Next time, watch the shadows before moving. Guards aren't blind."
Lux lowered his head. "Yes, big bro."
Varik leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. "Lux almost tripped over a drunk Frostwalker. Would've gotten his skull kicked in if I didn't yank him back."
"And you kept quiet about it till now?" Gavin asked.
Varik shrugged like it was obvious. "He already feels shitty. Didn't want to pile on."
People assume children raised in the slums grow numb.
They don't.
They grow sharp.
Gavin's eyes softened a fraction. That was as close as he came to praise. "Good. Both
of you did fine." Lux relaxed. Varik smirked, pretending he wasn't relieved.
In all honesty, boys like them rarely lasted long in these alleys. Not because they were weak, but because the world didn't care if they were strong. Winter didn't bargain. Hunger didn't negotiate. And Arcem Futri had laws colder than its climate.
Gavin reached forward and adjusted the metal crate feeding their flame. His hands were scarred; burns, cuts, frostbite that never healed right. Marks earned defending the other two.
He was strict because softness killed.
He cared because someone had to.
"How long will this last?" Varik asked, nodding at the meager food.
"If we're careful," Gavin said. "Three days."
"Two," Varik scoffed. "Lux eats like a fucking mammoth."
Lux bristled. "Hey! I ration good!"
"Good isn't enough," Gavin said, and that shut both of them up. "We stretch it. No arguments."
The wind outside groaned through the alley, bending rusted pipes and whistling through broken gaps in the tarp overhead. Lux shivered violently. Gavin pulled him closer without a word. Varik shifted to block the draft from the other side.
Their bodies were starving, but their instincts were synchronized from years of relying on nothing but each other.
"Gavin…" Lux whispered. "Do you think things'll ever get better? Like… really better?"
Gavin didn't answer right away. His gaze went to the city's distant glow, the capital lights, unreachable and honest only in how little they cared for the slums beneath them.
But still, he said, "Yes. But not by waiting."
Lux smiled faintly. Varik watched Gavin with an expression that wasn't admiration, but something heavier, trust forged through survival.
Truthfully, none of them believed the world would get better on its own.
But believing in Gavin?
That was easy.
This cold hell has watched people cling to weaker hopes than a boy with frostbitten fingers.
A crack echoed through the alley, metal splitting somewhere above. The boys tensed instantly. The slums trained them well.
Nothing fell. Not yet.
Gavin stared at the flame again. "Sleep in shifts. I'll watch first."
Varik shook his head. "You watched last night."
"And?"
"And I'm not letting you do two nights in a row, dumbass. I'll take first." He stood, ignoring how his legs trembled. "You barely ate yesterday."
Gavin paused, just long enough for the smallest hint of appreciation to show.
"Fine," he said. "Wake me if anything sounds wrong."
"In the slums?" Varik snorted. "Everything sounds wrong."
He wasn't wrong.
Lux curled into the blankets, letting his eyes flutter shut.
Outside, beyond the shelter of scrap metal and rotting cloth, the world waited, it was cold, uncaring, sharpening its claws for the moment these three boys slipped.
It would get its chance soon.
But not tonight.
Tonight, warmth still existed in the smallest flame, in the smallest shelter, and in the smallest family winter had not yet taken.