"Here… let it cool down first," Ava said softly as she handed the steaming cup toward the exhausted woman.
The woman gave a tired nod, carefully cradling the heat between both hands.
Ava moved to the next kettle and poured another cup before glancing over at Taylor. "They really didn't say where they were going?"
Taylor sat on an overturned crate nearby. "Yeah. They just left in a hurry." She waved a hand vaguely. "Flew off on one of those flying donkeys."
Nearby, Ethan looked up immediately. "It's not a flying donkey. It's a Pegasus, Taylor. Pegasus." He frowned. "Calling those majestic creatures donkeys is honestly insulting."
Duncan walked past carrying two gallons of river water. "Pegacampus," he corrected flatly. "Not Pegasus. Pegacampus."
Ethan pointed at him. "I prefer Pegasus."
Duncan set the gallons down beside the firepit with a dull thud. "Yeah, well now you're the one being disrespectful."
Taylor rolled her eyes. "Whatever."
Ava stayed quiet for a moment, staring into the steam rising from the kettle.
Then she sighed softly. "…I'm getting a bad feeling."
Taylor glanced toward her, then forced a small shrug. "I'm sure they're fine…"
Lucas walked past the group, scanning the surrounding area as he spoke. "We secure this perimeter first, everyone. Before we move deeper."
He glanced toward the distant rows of small houses. "We only cleared a few houses, the security building, and the medical facility. This place is bigger than it looked from outside."
Ava followed his gaze. "Yep… that it is." She looked toward the tall decorative metal fencing surrounding the property. "Still feels kinda like a prison though."
Duncan snorted quietly at that as he continued sorting supplies nearby.
Lucas folded his arms, eyes still surveying the land with a strategist's focus already at work. "The fencing adds security. I like that." He pointed toward several sections of open land. "We could build watchtowers around the perimeter. Use the empty lots for farming."
Then, almost as an afterthought: "Maybe even build a swimming pool for the sirens."
Taylor blinked at him. "Really? That sounds like a lotta work." She leaned back slightly. "I mean… they're leaving anyway."
Lucas shrugged once. "Doesn't mean they can't visit."
A small pause.
"Would save them from walking seven minutes through the forest every time they wanna reach the river."
Taylor considered that for a second before nodding slowly. "...Fair point." She stood from the crate and stretched her back before heading toward the RV. Before climbing inside, she glanced toward the open space nearby. "Tyler."
The boy looked up immediately from where he stood talking with Lily.
Taylor pointed two fingers toward her own eyes, then toward him. "Stay where I can see you, alright?"
Tyler nodded quickly and waved. "Okay!"
Satisfied, Taylor ducked inside the RV while Tyler turned back toward Lily, continuing whatever conversation they'd been having before.
The sun climbed high and steady above them, spilling warm light. A cool breeze moved through the forest, carrying the scent of damp earth and leaves. The river nearby ran clear and constant, giving them water without struggle. Even the shriekers—once an ever-present threat—had grown rare. Almost absent.
It felt wrong in a way. Like the world had forgotten to keep hurting them.
"This is kind of nice, isn't it?" Joan said as she opened a metal box, rummaging through supplies.
Sheila sat nearby, cradling her newborn as she breastfed him. Her voice came soft. "Yeah… its peaceful. And it feels safer knowing sirens are our allies."
"Tell me about it," Joan replied. "Helps you sleep better at night."
"Yeah…" Sheila adjusted the baby slightly when he shifted. "I just hope this moment of peace never ends."
The baby suddenly cried out, sharp and small, but Sheila immediately soothed him, rocking him gently until the sound softened again into quiet whimpers.
Joan glanced over. "You thought of a name for him yet?"
Sheila hesitated. "No… I-I just can't think of a good one. All the names I know from back in the old days are… dead. Or they belong to people who—" She stopped herself, jaw tightening. "Or people who turned into cannibals."
Joan nodded slowly. "Why don't you name him after Victor?"
Sheila made a face almost instantly. "I don't want two Victors. When he grows up and marries someone, I don't want his wife calling him 'My husband, Victor' like it's normal."
Joan snorted, laughing under her breath.
Sheila tilted her head. "What are you even looking for anyway?"
Joan didn't answer right away. She shifted through another box, slower now. "I can't find Lara's knife. I know I packed it here somewhere."
Sheila paused. "Lara?"
Joan froze.
Her hands stopped moving. Just for a second, but enough for Sheila to notice the shift in her posture. Something tightened in Joan's expression, like a memory hitting too hard.
Sheila's voice softened immediately. "Oh… I'm sorry."
Joan exhaled. "It's alright. Well… what can you do, right?"
"I'll help you look," Sheila said quickly. She stood, still holding the baby carefully against her chest. "What does it look like?"
Joan began opening another container, a little more mechanically now. "Small. Dark handle. Blade's chipped near the tip."
Sheila turned to Victor who was by the RV engine and called. "Hey, Vic. Come take care of your son for a bit."
Victor didn't even fully turn. "Can't. My hands are dirty." He lifted them slightly as proof—darkened with oil and grime.
Joan shook her head faintly. "You don't have to do that."
Sheila straightened. "No… I insist. Come on. I wanna feel helpful."
Joan let out a small chuckle. "Alright."
At that moment, Taylor stepped out of the RV. She looked at the group, then the baby. "Hey… come here," she said calmly. "I'll take care of him."
Sheila hesitated. "You sure?"
"Yeah," Taylor replied simply. "It's fine."
Sheila carefully handed the baby over. Taylor adjusted him against her shoulder, holding him with practiced ease as she began to gently pace, soothing him until his cries faded.
Then, Sheila turned back to Joan and began helping her search through the remaining bags and crates, both of them digging through their supplies in quiet focus, looking for Lara's knife.
Under a tree near the gates, a small fire burned low under a blackened pot.
Ava crouched beside it, watching water roll into another boil. Steam rose in thin streams, drifting off into the trees. When it was ready, she carefully lifted it off and set it aside with the others—already cooling in mismatched containers.
She sighed, wiping sweat from her wrist. "This is getting ridiculous."
Duncan sat a few steps away on an hardened sack of concrete, methodically drawing a cloth along the length of his sword. Slow. Controlled. Like he was thinking through every inch of it.
Ava tilted her head toward him. "Hey, Duncan."
He glanced up. "Yeah?"
She kicked a small pebble with her boot. "Can you rig a water filtration thing or something? I'm getting real tired of playing 'boil and wait' all day."
Duncan gave a short, amused breath. "I can do a filtration setup. But I'll need David."
Ava groaned and leaned back on her hands. "Of course you do."
"Extra hands," Duncan added. "I'd need his opinion on where we gonna set up the working station before I start unpacking my stuff."
She stared at the ceiling of leaves above them. "So basically, I'm stuck boiling water until he shows up."
"Yep."
"That's depressing."
Duncan shrugged without looking up. "It's survival."
Ava let her feet swing lightly. "I'm gonna grow white hair at this point."
Duncan finally glanced at her again, a faint smirk forming. "You'll complain the whole time, but you won't."
Ava sighed and looked back at the boiling pots. "…After this I'm not gonna be boiling water for a long time. Y'all can die of thirst for all I care," she muttered.
Duncan just snorted at that comment.
A few minutes of silence passed and some heavy sigh of frustration from Ava when the pot boiled again. She lifted the pot when she froze.
Something at the sky caught her eyes.
She squinted hard. "Are those… tidecrafts?"
Duncan was already looking up. The cloth in his hand dropped to his knee. "…Yeah," he said.
He stood.
Ava followed his gaze. The shapes were still distant, but unmistakable now—moving in formation, cutting through the sky like living vessels.
"Oh," Duncan added quietly. "They're back. Seems like Ysa brought Raine and the others with her."
Ava glanced at him. "How do you even know that from this far?"
Duncan didn't answer right away. His attention stayed locked upward, eyes tracking movement most people would miss.
Then Ava noticed it—the subtle shift in his pupils as they adjusted, sharpening, focusing. She exhaled through her nose. "Urgh. Siren eyes."
Duncan didn't deny it.
Around camp, movement picked up instantly.
Victor straightened near the RV. Taylor stepped out from the shade with the baby still resting against her shoulder. Joan stopped mid-motion, hand still inside a crate. Sheila looked up from where she was crouched.
Even the air felt like it changed pressure.
Ethan came into view near the edge of the clearing, shading his eyes with his hand. "They're back," he said, voice tightening slightly. "Looks like they brought company."
The formation above widened.
More shapes resolved through the glare—massive, drifting constructs riding currents of air at once, like something between ship and living creature. The tidecrafts descended without hurry, their movement controlled, deliberate.
Then—
They dropped.
The impact hit the ground in heavy pulses, one after another. The earth shuddered under them, small rolling tremors rippling outward through dirt and roots. Leaves fell loose from branches. Dust lifted in soft bursts.
Ava instinctively stepped forward, a grin breaking through despite herself. "Okay," she muttered. "That's still insane every time."
The tidecrafts settled, the Pegacampus' wings folded in slow, controlled arcs. Massive bodies lowering with unnerving grace for something so large. Their tails swayed slightly as they stabilized on land, hooves pressing into the earth.
At the front line, Lucas stood still, watching without blinking. Beside him, Taylor shifted the baby slightly. Joan's posture had gone rigid but alert. Sheila stayed close, quiet now.
Ethan exhaled once. "Yeah… they're definitely back."
Inside the tidecrafts, nothing moved for a moment.
The engines had already gone quiet, but the air inside still felt tight—like everyone was waiting for permission to breathe again.
Ysa was the first to break it. She stepped out of the front tidecraft without hesitation, she didn't look at the group immediately. Just kept walking along the line of vessels, scanning, avoiding eye contact like it was intentional. Then she stopped at the last tidecraft.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Inside, there was a pause.
Yve's hand tightened around Dylan's. Hard. Like she was anchoring herself to something real.
Dylan looked at her, voice low. "Hey… I've got you."
Yve nodded once. Not confident—just committed. She exhaled through her nose, steadying herself.
Dylan pressed the panel and the door hissed open. He stepped out first, then turned immediately, offering his hand. Yve took it and climbed down carefully, her movements controlled but tense. When her feet finally hit the ground, she didn't let go of him right away.
Her eyes lifted.
Ysa was already there.
They didn't speak. Just looked at each other for a beat too long.
Then Ysa reached out. Yve met her halfway.
Their hands locked together—firm, familiar, like a silent check-in only they understood. Then they turned together toward the second-to-last tidecraft and knocked.
The door hissed open and David stepped out. For a second, he just stood there, blinking like the outside world had hit him harder than expected. Then his expression shifted—small, controlled, but unmistakably relieved. A faint smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.
Lucas was already walking toward him. No rush. No announcement. Just movement.
David met him halfway.
They didn't say anything at first. Just stepped into a brief hug—solid, familiar—hands patting each other's backs once, twice, like confirmation more than greeting.
Ava tilted her head, watching. "What is going on? Why are they still in there?"
Ethan glanced at her, amused. "You still not used to them?"
Ava frowned. "Used to what?"
Ethan shrugged slightly. "They like dramatic timing. Or they're just making sure everyone's looking."
Ava scoffed. "That's ridiculous."
Ethan nodded. "Yeah."
A beat.
Ava glanced back. "That's definitely what they're doing, isn't it?"
Ethan's mouth twitched. "Probably."
Ava let out a short laugh despite herself. "Of course it is."
Around them, the tension broke just a little—soft chuckles spreading through the group as the tidecraft doors remained closed
From the open tidecraft, Ysa and Yve reached in, their movements slow, reverent. They weren't pulling, but guiding. Harrison and Harlene's bodies, buoyed by the water, floated towards them, weightless in a way life had never allowed them to be.
Ava stood, her view partially obscured by the broad shoulders of David and Lucas. She felt a strange, detached calm.
Then, beside her, Ethan's breath hitched—a sharp, ragged sound that cut through the quiet. Before she could turn to him, his hand shot out, grabbing hers. His grip was tight, almost painfully so, his fingers cold and trembling. He wasn't looking at her; his gaze was locked on something past the men in front of them, his face pale. Confusion clouded her mind, a premonition she couldn't yet name.
Ysa leaned in, her arms wrapping gently around Harlene's shoulders, lifting her with a care that defied the finality of the moment. Beside her, Yve did the same for Harrison, her face a mask of grief. Together, they turned, carrying their precious, terrible burdens towards the heart of the group.
A collective gasp rippled through the survivors, a wave of shared anguish. Mouths fell open in silent screams. Hands flew to cover them, as if to hold back the sorrow.
Lucas stood frozen, his earlier bravado evaporated. His eyes, wide and glassy with terror, darted from Harrison's still face to Harlene's, the sight of them a physical blow. He looked like a man who had just seen the ground give way beneath his feet.
Yve and Ysa kept their heads bowed, their faces hidden behind curtains of wet hair, their steps heavy and deliberate. They were bearing the weight of the group's hope, now shattered.
Ethan's grip on Ava's hand tightened, a desperate anchor in a world suddenly adrift. He held on like he was afraid she might be pulled away by the same unseen force that had taken their leaders.
Lucas tore his gaze away from the bodies, his eyes wild with denial. He looked first at David, then at Dylan, a silent, desperate plea for answers in his expression. But Dylan offered none. He simply lowered his gaze to his feet, his shoulders slumping under a weight no one else could see.
Then, as if sensing her need to see, David and Lucas shifted slightly, clearing the path.
The obstruction in Ava's view cleared.
And then she saw it.
It didn't register as a thought at first. Not even confusion. Just a slow, sick tightening low in her stomach—like her body understood before her mind agreed to catch up.
The group blurred for a moment, faces and shapes losing definition, as if the world itself had gone slightly out of focus.
Lucas saw it happen. He saw the color drain from Ava's face, the way her body went rigid just before the break. He moved without thinking, closing the distance between them, his arm already outstretched.
But Ava had already looked.
Ysa and Yve were closer now.
Walking.
Careful steps over broken ground.
Something in their arms.
Two shapes. Carried too still to be mistaken for anything alive, but still taking Ava's mind one long second to name.
Sound drained.
The engines, the wind, the distant movement of people—everything turned distant and dull, like it was happening underwater.
There was only what she was seeing.
Ava's body locked. Her breath caught so hard it didn't come back right away.
A familiar shape held wrong in Yve's arms— too still, too heavy in the way stillness becomes when it is permanent.
Yve shifted her grip slightly as she stepped forward.
And Harrison's arm moved with the motion. It dropped a fraction lower, hanging loose at the shoulder joint, his shirt darkened in uneven patches—blood, dried into fabric, and all over his hands, like he had tried to hold onto for dear life.
And that's when it dawned on her. The knot in her stomach ruptured.
Her heart thundered against her ribs. Pure, liquid dread flooded her nervous system, paralyzing her, and then, like a dam breaking under impossible pressure, she shattered.
A wet, raw, choked sob escaped her throat, a sound so animalistic it didn't seem like it could come from a human. Her knees buckled, trembling violently, and she collapsed.
Ethan and Lucas caught her immediately, their arms the only things holding her upright as her legs gave out completely.
Her cries were a tearing heartbreak to the group, each one a fresh wound in the suffocating air.
Yve, who had borne Harrison's weight, could only stand and shed a single, silent tear. Dylan looked away, his jaw clenched as he stared at a distant point of heat-choked horizon, unable to watch. Elena clutched Lily tighter, burying her daughter's face in her shirt as she hugged her tight, a sob of her own escaping her lips.
But for Ava, there was only the collapse. Her eyes stayed fixed forward, refusing to stop seeing it.
Her mother's hand. Still.
Her father's arm, hanging loose and bloodied.
Her world, already cracked, now fell apart completely. Another raw and heartbreaking cry tore from her, ragged and desolate.
"NO! NO! NO!"
It wasn't speech.
It was refusal.
It was the body trying to undo what the mind had already understood and failing.