We chose the ruins carefully.
No lights at night. No smoke trails. No signs that anyone had passed through recently. Just broken concrete, rusted frames, and silence thick enough to feel safe.
We spread out and started collecting whatever looked useful.
Microwaves. Hollow steel rods. Old engines half-buried under rubble. Car batteries that still held a faint charge. Kazim barely spoke—he just nodded when we brought something, eyes already racing ahead, mind stitching ideas together faster than words could keep up.
By the time we returned to camp, he was already assembling parts.
We didn't interrupt him.
For two days, he barely slept.
When it was finally done, he collapsed the moment he stepped back, eyes sunken, shoulders trembling. We carried him to the grass bed Ren made and let him rest.
That night, we went to an abandoned store nearby to find something edible.
The shelves were mostly empty, but we managed—cans, packets, things past their date but still usable.
As I started cooking, Aira leaned against the counter, arms crossed.
"You know," she said casually, "if this kills us, I want it written on my grave that it was your fault."
Ren snorted. "At least it'll be peaceful. Poison is faster than bounty hunters."
I glanced over my shoulder. "You all ate it last time."
"Yes," Aira replied. "And I survived. That doesn't mean I trust you."
Monisha smiled faintly, sitting on a cracked chair. "It smells… interesting."
"That's not a compliment," I said.
"It's not an insult either," she replied gently.
Kazim, half-awake, muttered from the corner, "If we survive academies, portals, and monsters, dying to bad cooking would be… ironic."
I threw a small piece of packaging at him. "Sleep."
Ren chuckled. "Honestly, the people in this city creep me out more than the creatures."
Aira nodded. "Yeah. At least creatures attack openly. Humans watch."
Monisha looked down. "They're scared."
"So are we," Ren said. "The difference is—we're moving."
I stirred the pot, listening to the quiet clink of metal, the soft crackle of heat.
"Do you ever think," I said slowly, "that if portals never opened… we'd all be doing normal things right now?"
Aira tilted her head. "Like what?"
"You'd still be arguing with teachers," Ren said. "Kazim would be locked in a lab."
"And you'd still be trying to avoid responsibility," Aira added, smirking at me.
I smiled despite myself.
Monisha's voice was soft. "I would've been home."
The room went quiet.
I cleared my throat. "Food's ready."
Aira took a bite first. Chewed. Paused.
"Well?" Ren asked.
She swallowed dramatically. "I'm alive."
"That's a win," Kazim said.
They all laughed.
Not loudly. Not freely.
But enough.
For a moment, we weren't fugitives or survivors or assets that escaped.
We were just… people sitting in a broken store, sharing food, teasing each other, pretending tomorrow wasn't heavy.
I realized something then.
This—this—was what the academies could never control.
Not power.
Not strength.
But connection.
And for the first time in a long while, I didn't feel like we were just running anymore.
We were living—however briefly—and that felt worth protecting.