The market district was quiet.
Not the quiet of night. Not the quiet of sleep. The quiet of something broken.
Stalls lay on their sides. Vegetables rolled into gutters. Fabric scraps caught in the wind. No one moved to pick them up. People stood in doorways, arms wrapped around themselves. Some cried. Most just stared at the sky.
Arin stood where the vehicle had been.
His hands were empty.
She had been there. Her hand pressed against the glass. Her mouth open. His name on her lips.
He had almost reached her.
Almost.
He had seen her hand—
Reaching.
Trusting him to do something.
He hadn't.
The air where the vehicle had been was still. No heat. No sound. Just empty sky.
Someone was calling his name.
He didn't answer.
A hand gripped his arm.
Hana.
Her face was pale, her eyes still bright with the trace she had held moments ago.
"Arin."
He looked at her.
"She's alive," Hana said.
A pause.
Her fingers tightened slightly.
"…but it's getting harder to feel her."
He held onto those words anyway.
Alive.
The walk back was silent.
Ren walked beside him, katana at his hip, eyes scanning every alley, every window. Maya stayed close to Hana, her hand resting lightly on her arm. Dmitri brought up the rear, his metal arms hanging loose, ready.
The streets were emptier than before. Doors closed. Shutters down. The city had pulled inside itself.
No one spoke.
The house was the same as when they left.
The door was open. Light spilled onto the step.
Arin's mother sat at the table. Her hands were wrapped around a cup of tea that had long gone cold. She wasn't crying. She was looking at the door.
Waiting.
When Arin stepped inside, she rose.
She crossed the room. She put her hands on his face. Her palms were warm.
"You're here," she said.
"I'm here."
She looked past him. At the others. Her eyes searched.
Hana stepped forward. "She's alive. I felt her. They're moving north."
His mother's hands fell away.
She returned to the table. Sat down. Still holding the cold cup.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then—
"Bring her back."
It was not a request.
Arin nodded.
"I will."
They gathered in the kitchen.
Hana sat with her eyes closed, fingers pressed to her temples. The gold flecks in her irises burned faintly.
"North," she said. "Industrial district. Then beyond."
Ren unfolded an old map across the table. Paper. Creased. Worn. His finger traced the rail lines, the abandoned zones, the empty spaces where nothing was marked.
"Beyond is nothing."
"That's where she is," Hana said. "I can feel her."
A pause.
Faint.
But there.
Arin stared at the empty space on the map.
Not empty.
Not anymore.
"We go."
They moved before dawn.
The city hadn't woken yet. Grey light clung to the streets. What remained of the night lingered in corners and alleys.
Arin led them.
Hana was at his side, her senses stretched thin. Ren moved ahead, silent, watching. Maya kept pace behind them, her kit strapped tight. Dmitri followed last, his presence heavy and steady.
The buildings changed as they walked.
Homes became workshops.
Workshops became warehouses.
Warehouses became rusted skeletons of something that had once mattered.
The air grew colder.
Metal.
Rust.
Something old.
Hana stopped.
Arin stopped with her.
"She's close," she said.
His chest tightened.
Her eyes were still closed. Her hands trembled slightly.
"…but it doesn't feel like her anymore."
The wind shifted.
No one spoke.
Arin looked ahead.
The industrial ruins stretched into darkness.
And something in that darkness—
Waited.