EVENING - THE ISLAND
The night settled gently over the island.
Lanterns hung from palm trunks and broken mast poles, their soft orange glow flickering across sand still marked with footprints and dragged boats. Someone had dragged together pieces of driftwood and broken crates to build a bonfire near the shore, and the smell of smoke mixed with salt and roasted food filled the air.
For the first time in what felt like forever, people were laughing. East and West were no longer seperated.
Loud, messy laughter. The kind that came out before anyone had time to feel guilty for being happy.
Children ran barefoot between clusters of civilians, chasing one another through the grass. Old radios crackled to life beside overturned barrels, playing distorted music that no one recognized but everyone danced to anyway. Food, whatever could be found, whatever could be cooked, was passed hand to hand like treasure.
A celebration made by people who had nothing left to lose, and everything to be grateful for.
Near the edge of the gathering, Madison stood beside ZE210, watching it all.
"They really did it," ZE210 whispered quietly.
Madison smiled.
"They really survived."
Across the sand, Doug stood in the middle of a group of drunk civilians, laughing as someone shoved a cup into his hand. Sage leaned against a palm tree a short distance away, watching the fire instead of the people, his expression unreadable in the shifting light.
"Oi! Stop lookin' so lonely over there, man!"
The shout came from somewhere near the fire.
Sage turned his head just in time to see a drunk Choreees man waving him over, a cup sloshing dangerously in his hand.
"Yeah!" another voice chimed in. "C'mon! We didn't survive all that just to stand around lookin' miserable!"
A few others joined in, laughing, beckoning him closer.
Sage hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then he let out a small chuckle, quiet, almost reluctant, and pushed himself off the tree. As he stepped into the group, they erupted into cheers, someone clapping him on the back hard enough to almost knock him forward.
Nearby, Shirley and Tucker watched as a group of former captives hoisted one of their own into the air. The man protested loudly, laughter breaking through every word as they carried him a few steps before nearly dropping him.
For a moment, neither Shirley nor Tucker spoke.
Behind them, the music crackled louder. Somewhere in the crowd, a woman sobbed openly into someone's shoulder, smiling even as the tears fell.
Suddenly, arm snapped around Tucker's neck.
"—HGHK—!"
Tucker barely had time to react before he was yanked backward into a tight chokehold. His crutches clattered to the sand as his feet left the ground.
"HOW YOU DOIN', KID?!"
Shirley's eyes widened,
Then he burst out laughing.
Tucker thrashed uselessly. "LET—GO—!"
The woman hauling him around finally swung him back into view, laughing so hard she nearly lost her balance.
It was her.
The woman from the Land of Flames.
"I was tryna figure out if it was you," she said, tightening her grip just a bit for emphasis, "but c'mon, white hair like that? You ain't foolin' nobody!"
She finally dropped him.
Tucker hit the sand on his feet, stumbled, then straightened up, coughing as he brushed dirt off his clothes.
"My—" he wheezed, "—my ribs are still healing!"
Shirley wiped a tear from his eye. "That was incredible."
"DON'T LAUGH," Tucker snapped. "HELP ME, YOU IDIOT!"
The woman grinned unapologetically. "My bad, my bad." She stuck out a hand. "Name's ZL366. Don't think I ever properly said it."
Tucker blinked, then shook her hand. "Yeah… actually, you didn't."
She laughed again, loud and easy. "Grab a drink, kid! You look boring as hell right now!"
Shirley tilted his head. "She's definitely drunk."
"Explains everything," Tucker muttered, then grinned. "Hell yeah, I want a drink! What we drinking?!"
Before ZL366 could answer, Madison stepped directly between them.
"Absolutely not."
Tucker's smile dropped instantly. "What?! But, you've got one!"
Madison sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Because it's for grown-ups."
ZL366 laughed from behind her. "Ooooh, she got you there."
Tucker groaned.
The party carried on around them, louder than before.
SOMEWHERE DISTANT FROM HUMANITY — THE SEA
An unbroken trail of ice stretched across the black water.
If anyone had followed it far enough, all they would have seen was a single figure standing where no one should be able to stand, on a narrow platform of frozen ocean, suspended between drifting waves.
CORE.
With every step he had taken, the sea had obeyed him.
His Absolute Presence carved the world into stillness.
He lifted one hand.
The ice beneath his feet rose smoothly, reshaping itself into a tall, narrow pillar—flat at the top, forming a table just high enough to reach his torso.
Resting on it was an old, wired telephone.
CORE placed the receiver to his ear and dialed.
The line connected almost immediately.
On the other end, a room bathed in white.
Walls of polished stone. Windows stretching from floor to ceiling, pouring in a pale, artificial daylight. A long, pristine table cut through the center of the chamber.
Seven chairs.
All occupied.
At the far end of the table, an identical telephone sat between them.
One of the rulers reached forward.
Click.
"…You're late, CORE. Do remember who you are talking to."
His voice was calm.
CORE did not bother with courtesy.
"Two individuals have compromised a sealed jurisdiction."
A faint pause.
"Choreees."
The word alone caused several of them to shift.
One ruler narrowed her eyes.
"That city does not exist."
CORE's voice remained perfectly even.
"It existed long enough for your officials to bleed inside it."
"You are requesting authorization," another ruler said, fingers folding together, "to place a bounty on minors."
CORE's tone sharpened.
"One of them is named Shirley."
The name echoed softly through the chamber.
A projection flared to life above the center of the table, grainy footage, fragmented surveillance, distorted angles.
Shirley.
Crashing through corridors, breaking through guards.
Blood.
Smoke.
Presence surges tearing through reinforced walls, several rulers watched without blinking.
"And the other?" one asked.
CORE turned his head slightly toward the sea.
"I do not have his name."
A few brows lifted.
"He has white hair," CORE continued calmly.
"Blue eyes. Male. Approximately twelve years of age."
A pause.
Then, quietly, "Pull your global civil registry."
One of the rulers tilted her head toward the far wall.
"Servant."
The word did not need volume.
A section of the wall slid open without a sound.
A figure stepped inside.
Clad in thin white fabric.
Head lowered, their expression blank.
"Search parameters," the ruler said.
The servant did not respond.
They only turned, approached a glowing panel embedded into the wall, and placed their hand against it.
Seconds stretched.
Then, the servant stopped.
Their hand froze.
A single profile hovered in the air.
The servant turned.
Still silent.
They angled the projection toward the table.
Name: TFR100
Age: Twelve years, four months, twenty one days.
Biometric match: confirmed.
Presence trace compatibility: extreme.
One of the rulers leaned forward slightly.
"…TFR."
CORE repeated it quietly.
Then, another line unfolded beneath the name.
Red.
A classification marker burned into the data.
Riley Lineage.
The room broke with shock.
One ruler stood halfway from their seat before realizing it.
"…That's impossible."
Another whispered, barely audible,
"That's gonna be a problem."
CORE's eyes narrowed.
"A Riley," he said.
The servant stiffened.
Several of the rulers stared at the projection as if it might correct itself.
It didn't.
A third ruler slowly turned toward CORE.
"You're telling us…"
Their voice tightened.
"…that the second child is one of them?"
CORE did not answer immediately.
He did not need to.
The silence did it for him.
A ruler at the center of the table straightened.
"This changes the scale of the response."
Another ruler nodded slowly.
"We cannot bury this."
A brief hesitation.
Then the decision fell.
"We make it public."
The room froze.
Even CORE turned his head.
"…Public?" he repeated.
Several servants along the far walls stiffened at once.
The central ruler's voice was absolute.
"A global announcement."
"It has been far too long since the world was reminded who is hunted."
CORE's grip tightened around the receiver.
"The last time you issued a public bounty…"
The ruler finished the thought for him.
"…was generations ago."
A slow, controlled breath passed through the chamber.
"Shirley."
A glance to the projection.
"And Tucker Riley."
The servant's eyes widened.
Just slightly.
Shock, breaking through training.
CORE lowered the receiver from his ear by a fraction.
The decision had already been made.
HOURS LATER - MIDNIGHT
The island lay scattered with exhaustion.
Thousands of Choreees civilians slept wherever their bodies finally gave in, collapsed against tree trunks, half-buried in warm sand, tangled in blankets made from stolen cloth and celebration banners. Some wandered aimlessly through the dark, laughing at nothing, swaying on tired legs. A few children slept curled against their mothers' chests, faces peaceful for the first time in a long while.
The fires had burned low.
The music had faded.
And far from what remained of the celebration, high above the island's quiet shore, Shirley and Tucker sat on the tallest cliff.
A single palm tree stood between them, its leaves whispering softly in the night wind. Below, the ocean stretched endlessly, moonlight trembling across its surface like broken glass.
Shirley stared out at the horizon.
"Tucker…" he said quietly.
Tucker turned his head. "Yeah?"
"…What's next?"
Tucker blinked.
"What do you mean?"
Shirley hesitated, then lowered his gaze to the dark water beneath the cliff.
"I mean… after all this. Choreees is over. Micheal's…"
His voice tightened.
"…gone."
The word barely made it out.
"And now we're… here. Doug, Madison, Sage… they all have their own paths. Their own fights."
A small pause.
"…Do you think they'll leave us?"
Tucker didn't answer right away.
He leaned back on his hands and tilted his face up toward the sky.
"…You're always thinking about stuff like that," he said softly.
Then he smiled.
"But honestly?"
He looked back at Shirley.
"I don't know either."
The wind brushed past them.
Tucker exhaled through his nose.
"I've been wondering the same thing. What even is the next step?"
Shirley swallowed.
Another silence passed.
Then, quietly,
"…Micheal said the world's trump cards. The secrets. They're all hidden in the book."
Tucker's eyes shifted to him.
"But what if it's fake?" Shirley continued.
"What if it's just another lie?"
He clenched his hands in his lap.
"And even if it isn't… why us?"
His voice wavered.
"We're just… two random kids who got lucky. We barely survived half of what happened."
He looked at Tucker now.
"How did we even get pulled into all of this? Teleported to the White House? Found ourselves in Choreees? The odds are stupid."
A breath.
"…I want answers."
Tucker stared at him for half a second.
Then—
He grinned.
"You want answers?"
A laugh burst out of him.
"HAHA! Okay, Shirley!"
He jumped to his feet and pointed dramatically at the open sea.
"Then that's it! That's our thing now!"
Shirley blinked.
"Our… thing?"
Tucker turned back, eyes shining.
"We're answer-finders!"
Shirley stared at him.
"…What?"
Tucker crossed his arms proudly.
"We hunt secrets. We chase the stuff nobody's supposed to know. We figure out why the world is messed up. Boom."
Shirley snorted before he could stop himself.
"You're so stupid."
But he smiled.
"…Yeah. Yeah, okay."
He leaned back against the palm tree.
"My curiosity is probably gonna get me killed one day."
Tucker immediately frowned.
"Hey, don't say that."
He stumbled closer.
"You're not dying. Ever."
Shirley looked up.
"Neither of us are."
Tucker extended his hand.
"All we've got is each other now."
His voice softened.
"We protect each other. No matter what."
Shirley's grin widened.
He took Tucker's hand.
"Yeah."
They spoke together without even realizing it.
"Yeah."
Footsteps suddenly rushed through the sand behind them.
Fast.
Uneven.
Breathless.
They both turned.
Madison.
She sprinted toward them from the darkness, her phone clenched tightly in her hand. Her hair was messy, her shoulders sagged with exhaustion, but her eyes were wide and terrifyingly awake.
She nearly tripped on the final step up the cliff.
"Guys—!"
She skidded to a stop in front of them and shoved the screen toward their faces.
Shirley and Tucker leaned in.
The light reflected off their eyes.
Their smiles vanished.
"WHAT?!" they shouted at the same time.
ON AN ISLAND IN A WORLD APART
A room swallowed by darkness.
A woman sat on the floor, unmoving.
One hand covered her face.
All that could be seen of her was the soft glow catching on the folds of a deep purple dress.
A man stepped into the room.
The shadows hid his body completely.
Only his voice reached her.
"Did you see it?"
For a long moment, she didn't respond.
Then—
A single tear slid between her fingers.
"Yes," she whispered.
Her voice cracked.
On the floor in front of her, a shattered screen flickered weakly.
Its glass was broken beyond repair.
Only a faint white glow remained.