The residents thought it was going to rain fire.
Above them, the clouds continued to burn, growing brighter until the entire sky glowed orange. The sight sent a fresh wave of panic through the settlement. People screamed. Some ran for cover while others simply stood frozen, staring upward as though waiting for the heavens to split apart.
Lucas barely noticed any of it. He was kneeling beside Yve. "Yve."
No response.
He grabbed her shoulders and shook her gently. "Yve."
Nothing.
A knot formed in his stomach. He quickly pressed two fingers against her neck.
There. A pulse. Weak. Faint. But there.
Relief washed through him for only a moment.
The tremor beneath his feet finally began to fade. The violent shaking that had rattled the settlement moments ago slowly subsided until the earth became still once more.
Around him, the residents began realizing they were still alive. The burning sky remained overhead, but no fire fell. No catastrophe followed. Only uncertainty.
Lucas slid an arm beneath Yve's shoulders and another under her legs before lifting her into his arms. She felt unnaturally limp.
He immediately headed for the house. The moment he stepped through the front door, he stopped.
Jenkins and Ava were pinning Dylan against a table. His face was pale, and every breath looked painful.
Ava glanced up first. Her eyes widened when she saw Yve. "What happened to her?"
Jenkins followed her gaze. "Was there an earthquake?" he asked. "What happened out there?"
Lucas stared at them. "I don't know," he said. "She pulled out this big-ass arrow and launched it into the sky." His eyes moved between them. "Actually, what the hell are you guys doing?"
"Set her down on the sofa," Ava said immediately.
Lucas frowned. Only then did he notice the length of tubing protruding from Dylan's chest. A cold feeling settled in his stomach.
"Dylan's lung is pierced," Ava explained. "We improvised, but I don't think that pipe's going to last much longer."
Lucas blinked. "You did what?"
"Lucas." Ava's tone left no room for argument. "The sofa."
Lucas carefully lowered Yve onto the cushions.
Jenkins stepped closer and examined her face. "What happened to her?" he asked quietly. "She was literally walking around two minutes ago."
"I said I don't know, alright?" Lucas snapped. "She just—" He stopped.
A sound drifted through the open window. A heavy rhythmic sound.
Flap. Flap. Flap.
Every person in the room went silent.
Lucas turned toward the door. Then he ran. He burst outside just in time to see a Pegacampus settling onto the ground a short distance from the house.
The creature folded its enormous wings as dust swirled around its hooves.
A familiar figure jumped from its back.
Ysa.
She landed lightly before immediately scanning the settlement. The frightened residents, the lingering chaos. Then her eyes found Lucas. She sprinted toward him. "That was a signal," she said before she was even close enough to stop. "What happened? Is everyone alright?"
Lucas stared at her. "No. No, not really." He gestured vaguely toward the sky. "Yve did this arrow thing. It was huge, and then she fired it up into the—"
"Yeah, yeah, I know." Ysa cut him off impatiently. "That's a signal." Her expression tightened. "What happened? Where is she?"
Lucas pointed toward the house. "She's inside the h—"
Ysa was already running. By the time he finished the sentence, she had reached the front door and disappeared inside.
~~~
Ysa burst through the doorway so fast that she nearly collided with the cabinet. For a brief moment, she simply stood there, taking in the chaos.
Blood. The skindrifter's body and head laying open on the table, Jenkins and Ava beside Dylan.
Then panic flooded her face. "Yve!" she shouted. "Yve! Are you okay?" Her eyes darted around the room before landing on the three. "Ava!"
Ava looked up in relief. "Ysa. You're back."
Ysa pointed at Dylan. "What happened to him?"
"Broken rib. Pierced lung."
Ysa's expression tightened. Then she looked around again. "Where's my sister?"
"The sofa," Ava said.
Ysa didn't wait for anything else. She sprinted across the room. The moment she reached the sofa, her breath caught.
Yve lay completely motionless. Her ebony hair spilled across the cushions. Her eyes remained closed. She looked as though she were asleep, but something about it felt wrong.
"Yve..." Ysa immediately pressed two fingers against her neck. Several long seconds passed. Then her expression darkened. "She's barely breathing."
Ava and Jenkins exchanged a glance.
Without another word, Ysa slipped an arm beneath Yve's shoulders and another beneath her knees and lifted her effortlessly. She turned toward the door.
"Wait." Ava's voice stopped her.
Ysa looked back.
Ava glanced toward Dylan. "Can you heal him?" For the first time, desperation showed openly on her face. "He's not going to last much longer at this point."
Ysa hesitated. Her eyes moved from Dylan to Yve. Then back to Dylan. Finally, she carried Yve back to the sofa and carefully lowered her down.
Then she crossed the room in a blur.
Ysa stood beside him and examined the tube protruding from his chest. Her face immediately twisted with discomfort. "You put a pipe in him?"
"It was either that or let his lung collapse completely," Jenkins said.
Ysa gave a short nod. Then she looked at Ava and Jenkins. "I'm taking it out."
"What?" Ava said.
"Hold him down."
Both of them immediately obeyed. Ava grabbed Dylan's shoulder. Jenkins secured his legs.
A second later Ysa gripped the tube.
And pulled.
Dylan's entire body jerked violently.
Ava visibly winced.
Ysa didn't hesitate. She placed her palm over the opening and closed her eyes.
The room fell silent.
Slowly, the wound began to close. The torn flesh stitched itself together, the damaged tissue repaired itself. Inside Dylan's chest, the puncture in his lung began healing, the fractured rib knit itself back together.
Ava stared in amazement. Even after everything she had witnessed, the sight remained unbelievable.
Ysa moved one hand toward Dylan's cheek. This part took longer. The infected wounds along his face seemed to resist, several times her energy flickered.
Ysa frowned in concentration, sweat formed along her forehead. The infection fought stubbornly against her healing. But little by little, the damaged tissue recovered.
Minutes passed before Ysa finally lowered her hand.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then Dylan suddenly sucked in a deep breath. His eyes flew open. He immediately doubled over and coughed. Blood splattered onto the floor.
Ava instinctively moved toward him.
Dylan took another breath. Then another. For the first time, his lungs filled normally. His eyes unfocused and his body relaxed. And he promptly passed out again.
The room remained silent.
Ysa wiped sweat from her brow and stood. "He's all good."
Ava blinked. "That's it?"
"He just needs rest."
The matter-of-fact answer somehow made it even more absurd.
Ysa didn't wait for further questions. She immediately turned and hurried back to the sofa. Her expression softened the moment she looked at Yve. Carefully, she slipped her arms beneath her sister once more.
Without another word, she lifted Yve into her arms and carried her outside.
~~~
Outside, the settlement was still reeling from the chaos.
Residents stood in small groups, speaking in hushed voices while others stared nervously at the strange faint orange glow that still lingered high above the clouds. Damaged fences lay scattered across the ground, and dust still drifted through the air from the tremors that had shaken the settlement only minutes earlier.
Ysa paid none of it any attention. Her entire focus remained on the unconscious siren in her arms.
Yve's breathing was so shallow that she could barely feel it.
A knot tightened in Ysa's chest. She shaped her lips and released a sharp whistle.
The sound cut through the settlement.
A moment later, powerful hooves thundered against the earth. Caelum emerged, moving at a swift trot toward her. The Pegacampus's ears were pinned back, his eyes alert. As soon as he reached her, he lowered himself without needing to be commanded.
Ysa carefully adjusted Yve in her arms. "Good boy," she murmured.
Then, with practiced ease, she mounted. One arm remained wrapped securely around Yve's motionless form while her other hand gathered the reins.
Caelum shifted beneath her. Restless. Ready.
Then she snapped the reins.
Caelum surged forward. His powerful legs pounded against the earth as he accelerated through the settlement. Residents scattered out of the way, many turning to watch as the massive creature raced past.
A few strides later, his wings unfurled. Great white feathers spread wide against the orange-tinted sky. With a tremendous beat, Caelum launched himself from the ground.
Wind rushed past Ysa's face, whipping her hair behind her as she tightened her grip around Yve.
She angled the reins.
Caelum immediately responded, banking to the east. Toward the river.
~~~
The convoy reached Havenwall shortly before dusk.
Six Pegacampi circled lower and lower over the settlement before finally descending toward the open field. Thick vines strained beneath them as they carefully lowered the bus hanging beneath their formation.
The moment the vehicle touched the ground, the gathered residents began moving closer. Curiosity quickly gave way to suspicion. Questions spread through the crowd.
"What is that?"
"Where'd they get a bus?"
"Who's inside?"
Lucas stepped forward, eyes narrowing as he studied the battered vehicle. "What's that?" he asked.
Standing beside the bus, Lysander answered without hesitation. "Cannibals."
The single word rippled through the crowd like a shockwave. Several residents immediately raised their rifles. Others backed away. A few turned and hurried in the opposite direction as fear spread almost instantly.
Lucas' hand moved to his sidearm. A second later he drew it and aimed directly at the bus. "Are you crazy?" he demanded. "Why would you bring them here?"
Lysander looked entirely unbothered. "Relax. They're our prisoners."
"Nah." Lucas shook his head. "My kid is here. No one's stepping out of that bus. You hear me?"
"Relax, man."
"No, no, you relax." Lucas kept the gun raised. "Get them out of here, Lysander."
Lysander folded his arms. "We'll find somewhere secure to keep them. We've got a lot of information to learn from them, you know."
Before Lucas could respond, another voice cut through the tension.
"What's going on?" Ava emerged from the crowd. Her sleeves were rolled up. Dylan's blood stained her hands and forearms.
Lucas gestured toward the bus. "These sirens brought those cannibals with them."
Ava blinked. Then, unexpectedly—"Really? Great!"
Lucas stared at her. "...Great?"
Ava was already digging through one of her pockets. A moment later she pulled out a worn, crumpled photograph.
Emily.
The picture had been folded and unfolded so many times that the edges were beginning to tear.
Ava held it out toward Lysander. "Show them this."
Lysander accepted the photograph.
"Ask them where she's being held."
For the first time, his expression became serious. "Will do, miss." He glanced at the picture for a moment before turning toward the bus.
The crowd parted as he approached.
Inside, the prisoners immediately noticed him. The reaction was instant. The captives compressed themselves toward the far end of the vehicle, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the approaching siren as possible.
Then he smiled and grabbed the thick vines binding the bus doors shut. With a single pull, he tore them apart, opened the door, and stepped inside.
The door closed behind him.
The atmosphere inside became suffocatingly tense.
He raised the photograph. Holding it where everyone could see. "Anyone seen this girl?"
Silence.
Nobody answered. The prisoners merely stared. Some looked away, others trembled.
One man suddenly rose from his seat and tried to fight back, lunging at Lysander with a jagged piece of steel torn from one of the seats.
Lysander caught his wrist before the strike could land, ripped the weapon from his grasp, and drove it straight into his throat.
The man collapsed immediately, choking on his own blood as he died, collapsing heavily onto the floor.
The remaining prisoners recoiled in horror, fear settled over the bus like a living thing.
Lysander slowly lowered his gaze toward them. His posture changed and the transformation began subtly. Scales spread from his neck upward across his jaw and cheeks. His eyes brightened. The human warmth vanished from them, replaced by something ancient. Something predatory.
Several prisoners began shaking uncontrollably.
Lysander raised the photograph once more. His finger tapped the image.
Once.
"I ask again."
He tapped the photograph with every word, his monstrous voice filling the bus. "Does. Anyone. Know. Where. This. Girl. Is?"
Outside, even the residents standing nearby could hear him.
Inside the bus, nobody spoke. Nobody wanted to be the next man to test his patience.
~~~
Night didn't pass cleanly.
It seeped into Havenwall the way damp cold seeped through cracked wood—slow, heavy, unwilling to leave the night behind. Rain tapped softly against patched roofs. Wind threaded through broken gaps in the walls. Somewhere outside, a Pegacampus shifted its weight, armor plates clicking faintly in the distance.
No one had really slept.
Not with the cannibals contained nearby. Not with the uncertainty still hanging over the settlement like a second sky. Even with the sirens posted at the perimeter, watching without blinking, people had drifted in and out of uneasy rest—never fully gone, never fully awake.
Morning came, and inside Jenkins's residence, silence held a different weight.
The bleeding was stopped. The skindrifter was dead. For a few precious hours, there was only the sound of rain and the steady, slow rhythm of breathing from two rooms that held people who were, against all odds, still alive.
Dylan woke with a sharp inhale.
For a moment, he didn't move. His body felt like it didn't fully belong to him yet—muscles tight, skin sore, lungs working harder than they should have. There was no stabbing pain anymore, no burning in his chest, only the dull aftermath of something that should have killed him and almost did.
Then the memory hit him, not as a dream, but as a brutal, waking horror. The Skindrifter. The fever. Nierven. The gun. Yve falling.
"No." The word was a choked rasp. He threw back the covers, his bare feet hitting the cold floor, and he ran.
At the same time, in the other room, Yve's own awakening was a violent return to consciousness. A deep, bone-weary weakness had settled over her, a ghost of the immense power she had unleashed. She was alive, and she knew, with a vague certainty, that only Ysa's intervention could explain it. But her thoughts didn't linger on herself. They snapped to Dylan, to the fragile life she had fought to hold onto.
She shot out of bed, ignoring the wave of dizziness that sent the room spinning, and burst into the narrow hallway.
She reached the hallway at the same time he did.
And there he was.
He was running out of his own room at the same exact moment, his face pale, his eyes wide with a panic that mirrored her own. They stopped, facing each other in the dim light of the living room. For a single, suspended heartbeat, the world outside ceased to exist. There was only the sound of their breathing, ragged and in unison.
Something inside Yve broke. The dam of fear, of grief, of worry and helplessness, crumbled into dust. A choked sob escaped her throat, and she ran.
She didn't stop. She crashed into him, her hands flying to his face, his shoulders, his chest—touching, confirming, feeling the solid, undeniable truth of him. Alive. He was real. He was here. And then her mouth was on his.
It wasn't a kiss. It was a collision. It tasted of salt and relief and the metallic tang of fear.
Dylan was frozen for a fraction of a second, his mind catching up, then his arms were around her, pulling her closer with an answering desperation. He returned the kiss with the same intensity, his hands tangling in her hair, holding on as if she were the only solid thing in a world that had tried to dissolve him.
The force of their connection shifted.
Dylan's hands moved from her hair to her shoulders, a firm, decisive pressure that wasn't a push, but a redirection. He took a half-step forward, and Yve let him, her body yielding completely. He backed her against the cool, rough plaster of the wall, the impact a soft thud that was swallowed by their frantic breathing.
She didn't resist; she surrendered to it, letting him take the lead, letting him ground the storm he had unleashed in her.
The kiss deepened, transforming from a desperate collision into something deliberate and searching. The frantic, sharp-edged fear that had driven them together began to dissolve, replaced by a different kind of need, one that was just as hungry.
Dylan's mouth left hers, trailing a path of fire down her jaw to the sensitive skin of her neck.
A soft, involuntary moan escaped Yve's lips, her head tilting back to give him better access. Her hands, which had been gripping his arms, slid up to his shoulders, her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, holding on as the world narrowed to the space between them. But as the intensity crested, a different kind of energy surged within her—not desire, but power. It was a wild, thrumming current that fought against her restraint. She gritted her teeth, clamping down on it, forcing it back under her skin.
And then, the bathroom door clicked open.
Both froze. Dylan's head lifted from Yve's neck. Yve's eyes snapped open. They turned as one toward the sound, their chests heaving.
There was Jenkins, standing in the doorway, his eyes wide and his toothbrush halfway to his mouth. He froze like a deer, his brain clearly refusing to process the image in front of him. He blinked once, then twice, then a third time.
His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He held up a hand, a gesture of surrender or utter confusion, and slowly began backing into the bathroom without ever breaking eye contact with the floor. He pulled the door shut, and the click of the latch echoed like a gunshot in the sudden silence.
Yve and Dylan were left staring at the closed door, inches apart, breathing hard.
The air between them didn't dissipate; it crackled, thick and intense, charged with everything that had just happened and everything that had been left unfinished.