Chapter 3 - Chapter 3 - When the Sky Goes Quiet

It was Day 11 within the metro—but that didn't make sense at all, Lili thought, giggling quietly to herself as she sat in the sunlit park. How silly—why was she thinking about something like the metro anyway during such a beautiful sunny day? Sure she'd always liked to travel within the metro as there were lot's of interesting people there, but being in the park was much better as it didn't smell like sweat in the park. And thinking of numbers as big as eleven made her head spin a little bit and she didn't like that.

Shrugging off the strange thoughts, she glanced shyly toward the playground. Other children laughed and ran about, playing happily on slides and swings. But as much as she wished to join them, her tummy filled with butterflies every time she thought about trying. She was too shy, too scared they'd laugh at her or tell her she couldn't play, or what if they again called her sandcastle in the sandpit no good.

So instead, she let her gaze drift upward, watching fluffy white clouds drifting lazily through endless, bright blue skies. Butterflies with wings of every color fluttered around her, some even landing close enough for her to touch if she wanted—but she was careful not to disturb them. Her mother always said that butterflies were very delicate, very special.

And then, just as Lili was about to stand and follow a particularly lovely butterfly, her sharp eyes spotted something across the park—a single, small red rose, lying discarded at the edge where soft green grass met grey concrete sidewalks. It looked lonely, thrown away, sad.

She leapt quickly to her feet, her heart beating faster. She had to save it! Flowers were friends—her most precious friends. Without a second thought, she dashed across the grass, her small feet carrying her swiftly and lightly as she knelt down and carefully scooped the rose into her tiny hands.

But instantly, she felt a sharp prick. "Ouch!" she squeaked softly, dropping the rose back onto the grass. She looked down at her little finger, expecting blood—but saw instead bright red tomato juice dripping gently from the tiny cut.

"Oh…" she murmured softly, confused and sad. Tomato juice wasn't supposed to come from fingers. But it hurt anyway, and her eyes filled slowly with tears. Yet the rose still looked pretty, its scent so sweet, she just couldn't stay upset with it. "You're still nice," she whispered gently, lifting it carefully again.

Determined, she crawled slowly across the soft grass until she found the perfect sunny spot. With careful fingers, she dug a small hole, gently planting the rose and patting the earth around it lovingly.

"There," she said softly, feeling proud. "Now be good and grow big, okay?"

But as she reached out to pet the pretty petals gently, she accidentally cut herself again on the roses little prickles and felt another sharp sting! Tomato juice spilled again, dripping down her tiny palm. This time it hurt even worse, and without meaning to, her hot tears quickly spilled down her cheeks, blurring her vision.

"Mama! Papa!" she cried, looking desperately toward the park bench where they'd been sitting. "The rose was mean—it cut me again, and I'm bleeding tomato juice!"

But as her parents turned toward her, her breath caught painfully in her throat.

They still sat there, but their faces weren't right at all. They were smiling—huge, terrible smiles that looked painted on, unnatural, like scary dolls. Yet tears streamed down their cheeks, endless rivers of sadness dripping silently down smiling faces. They weren't her parents anymore, just smiling, crying things she couldn't recognize.

"No," Lili whimpered, stumbling backward.

She turned desperately, searching for help. But all around her, every child, every mommy, every daddy—all had those same smiling faces, endless tears streaming silently down frozen cheeks. No laughter, no playing, no noise at all—just silent, smiling, sad faces, staring directly at her.

"No, no—go away!" she cried again, her voice breaking into frightened sobs. "You're scary—I don't like you!"

But then, she felt something cold touch her hand. Looking up, she saw that beautiful blue sky fading swiftly, swallowed by a sickly green cloud. The warm sunlight vanished, replaced by a pale, unnatural glow. Slowly, like snowflakes, small green specks began drifting downward—falling gently onto her hair, her skin, her pretty white dress.

Her eyes widened in pure, childish terror. She recognized those green flakes, remembered how they burned and itched horribly.

"No! Stop it!" she screamed, her small voice sharp with defiance, panic rising as tears blurred her sight. "I don't want this—I don't!"

The green flakes fell faster, thicker, burying everything around her. Smiling, crying faces moved closer, their silent mouths stretching wider. The green mist closed in from all sides, wrapping around her small, trembling form—

Lili screamed loudly, desperately, squeezing her eyes shut tightly—

And with a violent start, she woke.

Chest heaving, heart pounding, tears streaming down her cheeks, she sat bolt upright in the cold darkness of the metro station, with a heavy military cloak tangled around her small body.

Here there were no parks, no pretty butterflies, and no parents amongst many other things.

Only dark tunnels and silence surrounded her, broken occasionally by faint echoes of a horrible, distant singing, floating hauntingly down the tunnels toward her.

For a long moment Lili sat unmoving in the darkness, trembling, hugging herself tightly beneath the heavy military cloak that felt rough and scratchy against her small, delicate skin. Her breathing came quickly, her heart still thumping from the horrible dream she'd just awakened from. Slowly, the memories of the pretty park and blue skies faded, replaced by the chilling, oppressive reality around her.

Then as if checking if this all was truly reality she looked around carefully once more, blinking tears from her eyes as she did so. And indeed there was no sunlight here, no fresh air to breathe, no pretty flowers that smelled good—just faint emergency lights casting dim, flickering shadows along the walls of the abandoned metro station she now called home. Oh how she missed her fluffy bunny-eared pillow from home, missed the warmth of her soft bed. Most of all, she missed the comfort of her mother's gentle arms hugging her in the mornings as she awoke, and her father's soothing voice telling her to be a good girl. But neither of them were now here, they were both now those infected singing scary things beyond the abandoned metro station, and for her just the thought of it squeezed painfully at her chest.

Unconsciously she rubbed her small fingers together nervously beneath the cloak, remembering how the rose in her dream had made her bleed tomato juice. How silly, she thought—blood wasn't tomato juice. But the rose had hurt her, and remembering the sting made her even more upset. Her eyes drifted nervously around the station.

Nearby, she could see the Sergeant and his three riflemen quietly moving, their heavy boots crunching softly on gravel as they checked the station's barricades. Their helmet lights were off, replaced instead by the gentle glow of her small white stones, which they'd carefully attached to their helmets. They looked like silent ghosts, moving slowly, carefully. The Sergeant was stern and watchful as always, his movements reminding her sharply of her mother's strict but caring manner.

Then she tilted her head slightly, listening carefully she heard it again in the far distance, sounds drifting through the tunnels. It was that same song again, the infected voices gently calling as they always did like a bad song left on repeat:

"Join our song, sing along, celebrate our sickness…"

Lili shivered, her small fingers tightening around the cloak, gripping it harder. She didn't like their song—it frightened her and for whatever reason it seemed that she was the only one who could hear it as the others weren't reacting to it at all, maybe their hearing was just not so good. Well from now on, she decided, she would call those singing infected simply the "Sad Singers."

Turning her head, she saw the Medic carefully working at the edge of the platform. He was preparing their breakfast again—those thick, strange protein drinks they'd been forced to sip through their masks. Her tummy twisted uncomfortably at the thought. She missed real food, missed the delicious taste of something sweet, something comforting.

In another corner, the Corporal sat hunched over the small radio set, carefully adjusting the knobs. Static crackled softly through the air, a sound Lili found deeply annoying. She scrunched her tiny nose, wishing he would stop that noise, but he seemed determined to keep trying.

She glanced toward the small abandoned stores lining the station. The Heavy moved slowly among them, carefully searching shelves and behind counters. It made her smile a little, despite her sadness—seeing someone so big, crawling around like a gentle giant baby searching for treasures. She almost wanted to giggle, but the sadness of the dream lingered, holding her laughter back.

Finally, her eyes found her small garden near the tracks. Lit gently by the white stones she'd made, her plants bravely reached upward, offering her some comfort. But the darkness beyond her garden made her nervous—it felt like it was hiding something scary. She wished the Sergeant hadn't insisted on keeping their flashlights off to save batteries. The dark was too big, too unknown.

As her gaze moved away from her garden, she spotted the Heavy's large backpack sitting quietly, unattended near her. Her little heart quickened slightly, remembering the things she'd carefully gathered from the market before—especially the strawberries, red and juicy and sweet that not all of which she had planted within her garden as she hoped to maybe, just maybe have a little bite of them before harvesting the seeds and planting them as well.

Her mouth watered at the thought. One strawberry wouldn't hurt, she reasoned, her small stomach growling softly at the idea of something real and sweet. After all the planet of Achios was most famously known for its large juicy strawberries, so how could she resist. The more she thought about it, the more irresistible the idea became. Her tiny fingers nervously traced the edges of her gas mask.

She glanced cautiously toward the Sergeant and the soldiers. They were busy—no one would notice if she just took a single little strawberry. Her heart fluttered nervously, but she couldn't resist any longer.

Slowly, quietly, Lili moved toward the Heavy's backpack, her small hands trembling slightly with excitement and nervousness. Reaching the backpack, she carefully loosened the straps of her mask, determined now to taste just one small, sweet strawberry.

But then, just as Lili's small, trembling fingers finally managed to loosen the first strap of her mask, she heard rapid footsteps approaching swiftly across the gravel floor. Before she could even react, the Sergeant's voice—stern, commanding, yet hushed enough not to hopefully draw the attention of the infected beyond the station barricades—shot through the tense silence.

"Lili! Stop right there! Do not take that mask off!"

She froze in surprise, her heart jolting as she saw the Sergeant striding toward her. His eyes were sharp, intense with worry and sternness, just like her mother's eyes had always been. He moved quickly but quietly, glancing anxiously toward the dark tunnels barricades, clearly desperate not to attract any unwanted attention.

"But I don't want to wear it anymore!" she argued softly, a pout forming beneath her heavy mask. Her small voice trembled with frustration. "It's heavy, and it hurts, and I just want to eat something nice! I can't even taste strawberries properly through this thing!"

The Sergeant reached her in a heartbeat, kneeling swiftly beside her, his voice low but firm. "Listen to me carefully, little one. This isn't a game. In here, just like out there—" he gestured sharply toward the darkness beyond the station's barricades, "—the air itself might be sick. You take that mask off, and you'll end up just like them. Like your parents, like everyone else outside. Do you understand me, girl?"

Lili hesitated, blinking stubbornly at him through the mask's visor. "But…but I don't care! I don't want it on anymore, it's too stuffy, and it hurts my face!" she said defiantly, her small fingers pulling again at the straps.

The Sergeant's voice hardened instantly. "Enough arguing! You're a soldier now, Lili. And soldiers follow orders. Even if the order is to take explosives and charge at the enemy, even if you never come back—you still obey, you always obey without question. That's how we've survived this long; that's why the Imperium still stands. Discipline and obedience, Lili."

Lili shook her head furiously, frustration bubbling over into a rare stubbornness. "No! That's not true! I'm not a soldier! I know that girls can't be soldiers. Papa once told me that the Imperium doesn't allow girls to join the military, so I'm not a soldier and you can't order me around like that. So you're not my superior!"

Before she could say anything more, the Sergeant reached out and swiftly scooped her small form onto his lap as he quickly sat down, gripping her mask gently but firmly, holding it securely in place. "Now you listen carefully, little girl," he said, his voice tense but not unkind. "You're right, you'd never be allowed to join the military, that's true. But most importantly I'm still a man, which means that you as a female and a little girl no less still have to listen to me when I speak, and more than anything this is true especially in bad times like this. Also this is not just me saying this but it is the law, I'm your elder and you are supposed to respect and listen to your elders. So right now, you just have to listen to me whether you like it or not. That's just the way it is, Lili."

However his words only annoyed her even more, causing her to begin squirming and struggling defiantly in his arms, her tiny high-pitched voice growing ever louder. "No, I don't want to! Let me go! I don't have to listen! You're mean and annoying!"

The Heavy stepped forward quickly, concern clear in his usually calm voice. "Sergeant, maybe you're being a little rough. She's just a kid, after all."

Before the Sergeant could reply, the Corporal hurriedly joined them, waving his hands frantically. "Both of you, quiet down! Keep your voices low—we're going to attract every infected in the tunnels if you keep this up!"

The Medic and the three riflemen approached quickly, nodding anxiously in agreement, their worried gazes darting toward the dark tunnel entrances. "They're right, Sergeant," the Medic murmured carefully. "We have to keep quiet. We can't risk drawing attention."

With a heavy sigh, the Sergeant loosened his grip slightly, his voice softer but still stern. "Fine. But Lili, you must understand—"

Lili felt his grip relax and instantly prepared to bolt away, her small body tensing to escape. But just as she was about to slip free, an ear-shattering metallic crash echoed through the metro, reverberating violently against the walls. They all froze instantly, eyes wide and hearts pounding.

Lili's breath caught sharply, panic flooding her as she stared toward the source of the noise—a heavy maintenance tunnel door, barricaded and reinforced with rubble and scrap metal. Another crash followed immediately after, the unmistakable sound of something heavy slamming violently against steel.

Then came a softer, more disturbing sound—the sickening crunch of bones striking metal, followed by a horrible, rising chorus of laughter, sobbing, and wailing. The infected were right outside the door.

There weren't many—perhaps less than ten—but even their small number sent chills down Lili's spine. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she pressed back into the Sergeant's arms instinctively, trembling and terrified.

The infected outside began singing in distorted, haunting voices, their chilling melody echoing through the tunnels, calling for others to join them:

"Join our song, sing along, celebrate our sickness…"

The soldiers around her instantly went rigid, weapons silently raised, their breathing shallow and controlled. Lili didn't dare move, didn't dare even breathe loudly. Her eyes wide with fear, she gripped the Sergeant's arm tightly, her earlier defiance forgotten completely.

They sat in complete stillness, frozen in the dreadful silence that followed, listening as more infected voices began responding, distant and faint, drawing slowly closer.

In that terrible moment, Lili realized how real and frightening the nightmare truly was. These infected Sad people were truly everywhere. To Lili it was like their little abandoned metro station was an island in the dark, surrounded on all sides by a endless sea of Sad People that would surely get them if they ever dared to leave the safety of their new home.

Hours passed slowly, painfully, in tense silence.

Lili sat curled against the Sergeant, her small body trembling slightly from fear and fatigue. She listened to the dreadful singing, the eerie voices of the Sad Singers echoing through the tunnels, drifting softly through barricaded doors and blocked ventilation shafts, whispering gently, seductively into their minds.

"Join our song, sing along, celebrate our sickness…"

The words seeped through her thoughts, sliding like cold fingers trying to coax her gently into joining their chorus. There was something hypnotising and magical about the song, but she only squeezed her eyes shut, desperately resisting the strange urge to hum along as she knew better than to do so. Her tiny fingers clutched at her chest instinctively, and from deep inside, her core of white light pulsed softly, steady and comforting. The gentle warmth spread through her, calming her heart and frightened mind, pushing away the chilling temptation to sing.

Around her, the soldiers fidgeted restlessly, breathing heavily through their masks, eyes tense and wide as they fought their own private battles against the infectious melody. But as their anxiety peaked, the glowing stones attached carefully to their helmets grew subtly brighter, radiating a comforting glow. Like beacons of warmth and safety in a dark winter storm, the gentle illumination helped soothe their frayed nerves, steadying their minds against the insidious music.

Still, even with their minds clear and calm, the infected lingered, relentless. Over time, more arrived, their laughter and mad singing drifting hauntingly from multiple directions. The banging and scratching intensified at every barricaded entrance. Terrifyingly, the infected had even brought animals—poor dogs whose sharp claws scraped desperately against steel, their soft, sad whimpers mixing horribly with the humans' chilling song. The sound broke Lili's heart, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. Even the sweet dogs had become part of the Sad People, forever smiling and crying at once.

Yet, after what felt like forever, the horrible singing finally began to fade. Voices gradually drifted further away into the depths of the metro, drawn to some other distant distraction, and silence settled once again over the small station.

A collective sigh of relief rippled softly through the soldiers, though nobody dared speak or move just yet. Lili felt the Sergeant's grip on her loosen as the danger seemed to pass, and a sudden impulse took hold of her—quickly, she slipped off her mask entirely.

The Sergeant spun sharply, his eyes widening in alarm. "Lili!" he hissed urgently, reaching swiftly for her mask. "Put it back on right now!"

But the other soldiers quickly intervened, stepping forward gently to stop him.

"Sergeant," the Medic said softly but firmly, placing a calming hand on his superior's arm, "let her be. We found her without protection, remember? She's special, clearly immune and blessed with the power of the holy light. She'll be fine."

The Sergeant hesitated, anxiety clear in his tense stance. Still, he paused, watching anxiously as Lili took a deep breath, blinking softly in surprise at the cool air now touching her face freely.

Indeed, she seemed perfectly fine.

With a sudden determination, Lili turned toward the Heavy's backpack. Quickly opening it, she carefully took out one of the strawberries she'd saved so preciously. Without waiting or hesitating, she bit down, expecting sweetness—but her face instantly scrunched in disappointment. The strawberry had turned bad, its taste bitter and spoiled after so many long days of having been hidden away.

Her small shoulders slumped sadly, tears threatening again at the corners of her eyes. But the Medic knelt gently beside her, his voice comforting and kind.

"Hey now, don't be sad, little one. Remember your beautiful garden? You've already planted strawberries there, right? Soon enough, you'll have plenty of fresh, tasty strawberries growing right here in the metro."

Lili looked up at him innocently, her voice small and uncertain. "Really? But… but how? Can they really grow here, on the gravelly soil of the metro tracks, with only my little stones for light and no water?"

The Medic smiled gently behind his mask, patting her softly on the head. "Anything is possible, Lili. All you have to do is believe in yourself and keep working hard. Your garden already shows signs of life—little flowers will surely soon start to appear. I'm sure you'll have tasty strawberries in no time just as good as above ground or maybe even slightly better."

His words filled her small heart with sudden determination and excitement. Without another moment of hesitation, she stood up and hurried off of the metro station platform and toward her garden, kneeling carefully beside her small plants, placing her tiny hands gently onto the soil. Her heart filled with warmth, and from deep inside, her core began to glow softly, filling her garden with gentle, nourishing energy.

The soldiers watched quietly in amazement, and the Medic turned thoughtfully to the Sergeant. "See? She's completely fine. Better than fine, even. Look at the plants around her—they're growing in a place where nothing should grow. The infection doesn't seem to affect her at all. In fact, I'd say her powers have somehow purified this entire area. We're safe here, Sergeant."

The riflemen nodded earnestly in agreement. "He's right," one spoke softly. "She's healed us once already. Maybe it's time we trust her completely. Maybe we can finally relax a little."

Slowly, murmurs of agreement passed through the group. One by one, they began carefully loosening their masks, but the Sergeant raised a hand sharply.

"Wait," he said firmly, his eyes still filled with cautious worry. "We can't afford to be impulsive. If anything happens to us, if we're infected, Lili would be left alone. Her powers—whatever they are—could mean everything to humanity's survival and future prosperity. With her help, maybe even Terra could be brought back to life once again and humanity could then resettle it's original home once more. We simply can't risk her safety now."

He paused thoughtfully, watching Lili quietly tending to her plants. Then he sighed deeply, making a difficult decision.

"Although I also do wish to take off this mask before it gets permanently attached to my face. But for now, we still wait, and we watch. And later, we ask her to use her powers again to sense if there is infection here. If Lili says the station truly is free of infection—then we can take off our masks and gear safely, but one at a time just incase."

The soldiers nodded, respecting his careful logic. They turned again toward Lili, watching her with quiet awe as her tiny hands moved gently over the soil, her soft white light casting hopeful shadows around her small garden.

And for the first time in many days, they allowed themselves a fragile sense of hope.

Lili totally uncaring and unaware of this merely knelt beside her tiny garden plants watching them with a gentle smile upon her doll like face. With her no longer wearing the heavy, uncomfortable mask, she finally could breathe the cool, slightly damp air of the metro station, which gave her a quiet sense of freedom.

Behind her, the soldiers feeling encouraged by the comforting sight of Lili's quiet courage and her mysterious powers, the soldiers had finally begun to transform the bleak abandoned station into something resembling a home. With quiet, purposeful movements, they scavenged cushions from broken benches and chairs, stacking them gently into makeshift beds within one of the empty metro stores along the platform. Another abandoned storefront was swiftly turned into a makeshift latrine, partitioned carefully for privacy using metal panels and heavy tarps found scattered around. Quiet camaraderie settled warmly among the soldiers as they carefully built their humble refuge, each soldier quietly working alongside the others with renewed energy and quiet hope.

However as much as Lili initially had felt excited by the task before her—growing food, helping the squad, making herself useful. Her excitement had quickly begun to fade away as her tiny hands gently coaxed energy into the young plants, encouraging leaves to flourish rapidly, which caused extreme exhaustion to quickly overtake her small frame. Her small body swayed slightly, dizziness washing over her as a wave of fatigue swept powerfully through her.

She faltered, her vision softly blurring as her small hands trembled weakly above the growing plants. Within herself she could feel that each time she used her powers it caused her core to be drained of its Light Core Power as she called it or LCP for short. And while it would regenerate in time and like a muscle grow slowly ever stronger, for now it felt like from it's initial brightness and warmth that was like a bright light bolt it had now fallen to the level of a small firefly, barely warm at all and barely giving any light within her anymore for her to use.

Feeling weak now, Lili just felt like falling to the ground out of exhaustion and falling asleep there, even if it was hard gravel and falling like so would surely hurt. But before she could fall, strong, gentle hands swiftly caught her small frame, carefully lifting her away from the garden.

"Easy now, little one," came the Heavy's familiar deep voice, soothing and warm behind his mask. He carefully cradled her small form gently in his powerful arms, carefully stepping across the gravel and debris toward their original sleeping area. "You've done enough today. Rest now."

And soon enough he placed her gently down upon the makeshift bedding near where the Corporal still hunched over the backpack radio, quietly adjusting dials and knobs. Lili's eyelids fluttered sleepily, the comforting weight of exhaustion slowly pulling her toward peaceful sleep. Yet even as she rested, the quiet, determined clicks and static-filled crackles from the radio kept her partially alert, aware of the gentle movements around her but mostly just annoyed by the sounds of the radio.

Then suddenly—unexpectedly—the static-filled hum of the radio changed sharply.

"…Achios Prime… planetary defense batteries… Fire fire fire... direct hit, we got them." A voice broke weakly yet clearly through waves of static, startling every soldier instantly into alertness. The Corporal froze, hand suspended above the knobs, then moved swiftly, carefully adjusting dials, refining the faint signal. Soldiers quickly gathered close, their breathing hushed, tense with anticipation.

Lili stirred slightly, forcing her eyes open, listening intently despite her fatigue. Her tiny heart gently quickened as she sat up weakly, focusing carefully on the faint, desperate voice emerging from the radio.

"Enemy infected advancing en masse across the eastern plains… defensive trench lines two and three partially overrun.... Need immediate fire support at western ridge.... Bastions One and Four holding, but we need those extra shells now, were running dry! Casualties mounting at sector one... Forward defence lines are lost, were pulling back to Bastion one.... Worry not my brave soldiers, I Lord Steiner am here with you and as long as those bastions remain standing strong Achios Prime will not fall… House Steiner Heavy Walkers moving to reinforce walls.. Hold the line at all cost!"

Distant bursts of gunfire echoed sharply through the transmission, mixed with frantic shouting and muted explosions. Lili watched the soldiers exchange cautious glances, quietly understanding the gravity of the desperate defense happening beyond their hidden sanctuary.

The Corporal continued adjusting frequencies, sweat beading beneath his mask, tension evident in his careful movements. Another voice broke through urgently, filled with determination despite evident exhaustion.

"Orbital enemy fleet pressing attack from high orbit… Enemy bombardment incoming again towards bastion 6.... Planetary defense guns firing—enemy cruiser hit! Repeat, enemy cruiser down, it's breaking apart!"

Despite heavy distortion, distant cheers erupted faintly through the radio's speakers. Hope quietly surged through the soldiers gathered around the radio, tense shoulders relaxing slightly beneath armored uniforms.

Lili felt her tiny heart gently flutter with cautious excitement as the transmissions continued, crackling with distant, defiant determination.

"Additional enemy vessels retreating… planetary airspace regaining control. Enemy orbital presence falling back! We have control of Achios Prime's airspace—repeat, orbital control established!" The voice strengthened with fierce pride, carrying newfound hope. "Ground infected forces responding to orbital fleet withdrawal—they're retreating across multiple fronts!"

A stunned, fragile silence filled the abandoned metro station. The squad exchanged cautious glances, eyes widening gently with fragile yet powerful hope. The Sergeant stood silently, carefully listening to each distorted transmission, his posture tense but quietly determined.

The distant voice continued firmly, "All defensive bastions remain standing. Infected forces pulling back systematically—it's as if they're receiving orders... By the Immortal Emperor, we have won this day."

Lili now sat silently beside the Sergeant, her small body pressed close to his sturdy frame. The radio continued to crackle softly with static, filling the dimly lit metro station with an uncertain hope that hung heavy in the air. The distant, defiant voices of the soldiers defending Achios Prime had finally quieted, leaving behind a tense, expectant silence among Lili and her newfound protectors.

Then, unexpectedly, another voice emerged from the static, stronger and clearer than before. It resonated with authority and confidence, commanding immediate attention.

"To all brave remaining survivors of Achios—this is Lord Corvin Steiner," the voice declared firmly. "Today, we've held our ground against the infected menace. Today, we reclaimed our skies and pushed the infected hordes back from our walls. As your Governor, and head of House Steiner, I assure you all: Achios Prime stands firm and thus hope remains."

The soldiers around Lili exchanged quick, relieved glances, but the Sergeant's expression remained unchanged—tense, cautious, and deeply skeptical beneath the grim mask.

Lord Steiner continued, his voice echoing with a pride that bordered on arrogance. "Help is on the way. I have personally already arranged for a mission to seek reinforcements from the wider Imperium. My families connections run deep, and my uncle Thane Steiner who commands an Imperial battle fleet and governs an entire star system will surely help if anyone. So soon my brave people, mighty fleets will descend upon Achios once more, purging this sickness from our beloved world. Until then, remain hidden and have faith in the Eternal Emperor. Do not draw attention to yourselves. Just hold your positions, for help will come."

The voice faded into static once again, leaving the small group staring silently at the radio, the words echoing faintly in their minds.

The silence was heavy and thick, broken finally by a slow, quiet breath from the Sergeant. His broad shoulders slumped slightly, a subtle gesture that spoke volumes.

The Heavy turned toward him cautiously. "This is good news, right, Sergeant? They're coming back for us. Surely they're not just going to fully abandon the planet."

The Sergeant hesitated, choosing his words carefully, aware of Lili's anxious gaze. "They say help is coming. But words are easy—especially from men who govern from behind thick walls and high towers and always have another place to fall back to if need be, unlike us here."

The Medic frowned beneath his mask, uncertainty clear in his voice. "So you think Lord Steiner and his people are abandoning the planet completely?"

The Sergeant nodded slowly, eyes darkening with quiet intensity. "Achios isn't one of their rich worlds. It's just another grain basket to them, or more like just another vacation spot if anything. If things go badly, it's easy for House Steiner to retreat and forget about a planet like this. Sending out a distress call for help might just be their way of saying that they are escaping responsibility, and leaving this planets fate to the wider Imperium to decide upon."

The Corporal shifted uncomfortably, looking towards Lili, whose eyes were wide and filled with uncertainty. "Well you say that, but there's still always a chance. After all the Steiner family didn't get to where they are now in society by just playing dress up and being good at doing business, they are a house of war heroes and brave men after all. Maybe they'll really come back, Sergeant. Maybe they're not abandoning us, just pulling back to regroup."

"Maybe," the Sergeant agreed softly, his voice filled with quiet resignation. "But if they do, it won't be soon. Not for us. It'll take time—months, years, tens of years or maybe even more. And by the time anyone arrives, who knows what will be left."

Lili's small frame trembled gently, the Sergeant's words stirring fear deep within her chest. Her tiny hand reached out instinctively, grasping the Sergeant's armored sleeve. He turned toward her quickly, his stern expression softening as he saw the worry etched upon her delicate face.

With deliberate gentleness, he knelt beside her, placing a comforting hand carefully upon her shoulder. "Listen, Lili," he said firmly but softly, his voice warm despite its gruffness. "No matter what House Steiner decides, no matter if they stay or if they flee, we're not leaving you. You understand? And eventually House Steiner or The Imperium at large will return eventually, and until they do, we will remain right here, together. We'll keep you safe, no matter the cost."

Lili blinked slowly, her tiny chest rising and falling with deep, calming breaths. Her small voice trembled with vulnerability. "Promise?"

He hesitated only briefly, then nodded solemnly, his voice quiet but unwavering. "I promise."

A fragile smile blossomed across her face, lighting her delicate features with gentle relief. She leaned into his protective hold, trusting him completely as her eyelids grew heavy. Around her, the soldiers watched quietly, their resolve hardening in silent agreement with the Sergeant's promise.

As the faint echoes of distant combat and static faded into silence, Lili drifted peacefully toward sleep, comforted by the warmth of the Sergeant's steady presence. Her last thoughts were hopeful and trusting, anchored by his gentle reassurance.

Day 11 in the metro finally drew to a close, marked by cautious hope, fragile promises, and the gentle, unwavering bond formed quietly beneath the dark streets of Mikri Poli.

***

The very next day Lili sat quietly in her small again as there wasn't really much else for her to do. Around her the many light stones she had created were glowing lighting up the garden nicely, while her tiny fingers brushed tenderly across delicate leaves, applying her own personal healing light wherever it was need so that they all looked pretty and healthy as Lili liked them to be.

Looking at them her brow suddenly furrowed slightly in concentration, beneath her oversized helmet she now only wore for aesthetics as it made her look funny she whispered numbers softly to herself, carefully counting each day they had spent in the dark metro tunnels.

"One... two... three... and, and then there's four, and well today is day twelve, right?" she murmured with cautious confidence, determinedly learning her numbers like the good girl she had promised her father that she would be. Also counting the days gave her a small sense of control and normality in an otherwise chaotic existence.

Today, however, something remarkable had happened which brought her great joy. As her gentle hands passed quietly over her small plants, channeling warmth from her core of pure light, they had suddenly responded with newfound vigor. To her quiet astonishment, the strawberry plants had proudly begun to display delicate white blossoms, promising sweet fruits to come soon just like the Medic had said they would. Even the other vegetables and herbs she'd carefully nurtured were thriving now, showing promising signs that their first harvest was near.

Her small face brightened softly beneath her oversized helmet, a gentle smile touching her lips. "They're growing, and soon they will be big adult plants like Papa and Mama." she whispered excitedly, looking hopefully toward the soldiers gathered anxiously around the radio, eager to share her small triumph. But the men remained completely absorbed in the transmission, their tense faces hidden behind masks, shoulders rigid with apprehension.

The radio crackled continuously, the frantic transmissions filled with static, distorted yet clear enough to capture vivid glimpses of a desperate evacuation underway above in Achios Prime. Voices shouted hurried orders, reporting troop movements and evacuation launches, mingled with the distant echoes of alarms and explosions.

"All transports cleared for launch—proceed immediately to upper atmosphere!" A voice crackled urgently. "Civilian vessels, maintain tight formation behind the military escorts. Emperor be with us."

Lili listening to this from the side found it all a bit scary and kind of boring. She missed her parents and their company really badly. And she wished at least one of the soldiers could maybe at least teach her things as her parents had always done, or at least looked at her flowers and called them pretty, or calling them ok was alright as well. She just really wished they would do something more interesting than just sitting around the radio as it wasn't like them sitting there was doing any good for anyone anyway.

Looking up at the dark ceiling Lili wondered what those transport ships might be looking at right now, what was the world outside the metro now like? Would outside be blue skies or more of those green clouds blocking out everything and making people into Sad people.

Lili remember often hearing of ship's that took people into space and off the planet, and she had seen them flying before, but where exactly were they going she did not know. But she knew that there were lots of ship's, some with a few people onboard, others with tens of people, hundreds or even thousands or more, and apparently the largest of ships were like entire moons travelling around with lots of people onboard enough to make many big cities. In wonder Lili turned now to look at the radio thinking how nice it would have b en if she'd also gotten in one of those big ships and bean able to see other places across the stars as well.

Then suddenly, a new voice broke in, panicked and terrified. "Enemy fleet detected in high orbit! They're coming back—they're here! It's an ambush—"

A heavy burst of static erupted, followed immediately by desperate screams and frantic cries of distress. "They're targeting civilian transports—enemy ships breaking formation! All escorts, engage now!"

In an instant, chaos erupted through the radio. The sounds of shipboard alarms, frantic shouting, and violent explosions painted a terrifying, vivid scene. The soldiers around Lili stiffened visibly, eyes wide with quiet horror, bodies tense beneath their armor.

"Drop pods incoming! Large metallic pods, green in color—impacts confirmed near outer bastions!" another voice shouted, overwhelmed by sounds of intense combat. "Enemy forces deploying—armored creatures, heavily armed! We're taking massive casualties at the spaceport! Request immediate support—"

Lili watched with quiet confusion and growing fear, unable to fully comprehend the horror unfolding far above. The soldiers listened in grim silence, eyes locked upon the radio, their breathing shallow and rapid. The Sergeant's fists tightened slowly, shoulders rigid with quiet frustration.

Another frantic transmission cut through sharply: "Infected emerging from underground tunnels—enemy advancing rapidly across the plains! They're going to overrun our outer perimeter! All defensive positions, hold the line—no retreat! Achios Prime must hold!"

Yet the enemy pressed relentlessly, the voices on the radio becoming increasingly desperate. The transmissions faded frequently into static, capturing fragmented, anguished cries and chaotic bursts of gunfire and explosions.

As the day wore slowly on, hope gradually faded into tense uncertainty. The soldiers remained gathered tightly around the radio, eyes hollow behind their masks, desperately seeking any sign that Achios Prime might hold.

Feeling forgotten and unnoticed amidst their anxiety, Lili quietly stepped away from the radio, carrying her precious ceramic pot carefully toward their small sleeping area. Her tiny white flowers, carefully planted and lovingly nurtured since she brought them from the park above, glowed softly in her arms, radiating a comforting warmth that soothed her lonely heart.

Setting the flowers gently beside her makeshift bed, Lili curled quietly onto her side, hugging her knees to her chest beneath her heavy cloak. Her wide blue eyes stared quietly at the glowing blossoms, their gentle illumination pushing away her fears and loneliness, a comforting reminder of her lost home and family.

"They're busy," she whispered softly to her flowers, her tiny voice trembling slightly. "But you're here with me… you won't leave me alone, right mister flowers? And well to be honest, now I don't think I want to get on those ships again and go into space anymore, it sounds dangerous. But I do hope everyone's alright out there. Maybe the transport's just flew so far that the signal was lost, maybe, hopefully? And no, you mister flowers can't make me go there as much as I'm sure you would like to see the sun again, I just don't think it's safe anymore. I don't want to become like those sad people and sing that song each and everyday."

The flowers continued their gentle glow, offering quiet, silent reassurance. Her small eyelids gradually grew heavier, exhaustion overtaking her small frame as she drifted slowly toward sleep, clutching tightly to the comforting presence of her delicate white flowers—the only tangible connection remaining to the peaceful world she'd lost above.

Meanwhile, the soldiers remained gathered anxiously around the radio throughout the long, uncertain night, unable to tear themselves away from the increasingly desperate battle for Achios Prime. Their quiet murmurs and anxious whispers continued long after Lili finally drifted into peaceful sleep, unaware of their quiet discussions, tense debates, and careful plans for what might come next.

Thus, Day 12 ended beneath Mikri Poli—filled with quiet despair, uncertain hope, and the fragile innocence of one small girl who, despite feeling forgotten by the world around her, held tightly to the gentle strength of her precious little white flowers.

***

The very next day Lili awoke with a slow, quiet sigh, curled tightly beneath the oversized military cloak that had become her blanket. It was heavy and scratchy against her soft skin, but it was warm, and in this place, warmth was precious. She didn't know if it was morning or not—down here in the metro, it was always the same dim twilight, the only light coming from her crystals and the faint emergency strips on the walls. Morning was something that belonged to the world above, to sunshine and fresh air, to things she hadn't felt in what already seemed like forever.

Her big helmet lay beside her, the white light stone taped to it still glowing just as brightly as when she had fallen asleep. Next to it sat her flowerpot, the delicate white blossoms looking as healthy and pretty as ever, their petals almost shimmering in the crystal's glow. Seeing them made her smile, but just a little. Now just like everyday in the metro she awoke to cold metal all around her, the quiet hum of emergency lights, and the constant faint taste of dust in the air which wasn't nice.

Nonetheless with a lazy yawn, Lili rubbed her eyes with her tiny fists before pulling the cloak tighter around herself and beginning another new day within the metro. First she began once more by counting on her fingers. Starting from zero, she whispered each number like it was important.

"…Ten, eleven, twelve," she murmured, her voice barely above a breath. Then she nodded, her little chin lifting in quiet pride. "And today is thirteen." It wasn't much, but it was her small victory for the day in a place where victories were rare.

Her big blue eyes turned to the flowers again. "You stayed with me all night," she told them softly. "You're better company than people in green," she added, meaning the soldiers, though without any meanness. She knew they were busy with important adult things, but the flowers never ignored her.

Beside the pot was a sealed protein drink pouch, left for her sometime during the night. She could tell by the way it was propped up neatly that it had been the Medic's doing. The thought made her cheeks warm. She opened it and drank, her little nose wrinkling at the sweet, thick taste that had long since stopped being pleasant. Still, she finished it without complaint, because she was a good girl and knew they didn't have much.

Setting the pouch aside, she slid the helmet onto her head, adjusting it carefully until the crystal's glow fell in front of her eyes. Standing, she stretched like a sleepy kitten, then stepped out of the convenience-store-turned-sleeping-area.

Her new overly large military style boots the Sargent had gifted her made tiny crunching sounds on the dirty floor as she emerged into the platform. The air was cool and still, carrying the faint smell of dust and old concrete. Across the way, the soldiers sat in a close huddle around the radio, just as they had last night. But now their posture was different—tighter, heavier. All except the Corporal, who worked the dials with precise, tense movements, had their heads bowed slightly, hands clasped as if in silent prayer. Their helmets hid their expressions, but their bodies radiated something she recognized: fear.

Lili hesitated, wanting to ask what was wrong, but decided against it. They would tell her if she needed to know. Instead, she hopped down onto the tracks and padded quietly toward her garden on the far corner of the track bed. The soft glow of her crystals lit up the small plot of soil and gravel, the strawberry blossoms nodding gently in the stale air. She knelt down and began to tend to them, brushing her fingers over the leaves to clear away fallen dust, she also used a small but heavy military shovel of the soldiers to loosen the soil and look for more of it, and one by one she checked that each plant was looking healthy and happy or what she thought a happy plant would look like.

All the while from the corner of her eye, she kept glancing at the soldiers. She couldn't help but notice that the sound's in the radio sounded different today—no long reports, no careful exchanges. Just bursts of startled voices, gunfire, and distant explosions buried in static. She didn't understand every word, but she could tell the fight was going badly. Snippets of phrases reached her between the noise: "breached the lines," "pouring into the streets," "bastions under siege."

Her small hands stilled over the plants. So the Sad People were winning. Even here, deep under the ground, she could feel the weight of the desperate battles being fought far away pressing in. She couldn't help but think what if help was never coming now that the evacuation ships were all gone and the defenders of the capital were being pushed back.

Still, none of that really mattered to Lili as there was work to be done.

She decided the best thing she could do was keep busy, so she set about making more light stones. She searched the gravel for the right-sized rocks, carefully cradling them in her small hands as she sat cross-legged near her garden. One by one, she poured her warmth into them, watching the dull grey surfaces slowly change to milky white, the glow building in their hearts like tiny candles. The gentle light pushed back the shadows and made her garden feel more alive.

She planted the new stones around the edges of the strawberry patch and the herbs, making sure every leaf had its own soft halo. By the time she was done, her little shoulders sagged, her eyelids heavy. The glow inside her chest—the core of light—felt dimmer, tired. She knew if she pushed herself more, it would fade to almost nothing, and then she'd just feel cold and shaky.

That was the sign it was time to stop.

She wandered back to the convenience store the squad had made into their sleeping room. On her way, she glanced at the soldiers still gathered around the radio. They hadn't moved much all day. She wondered if their legs were tired from sitting like that, but she didn't ask. Grown-ups didn't seem to mind sitting still forever if it meant listening to something important.

In the sleeping area, the Medic had left her another drink pouch, propped neatly beside her flowerpot. She picked it up and peeled the seal, taking a small sip before climbing onto the bedding and pulling her big cloak up to her chin. The drink was thick and sweet—too sweet—and made her nose scrunch, but she drank anyway. She always finished them. The Medic had gone out of his way to make sure she had one, and she didn't want to waste it.

The flowers on her left glowed softly from the light stone hidden in their soil. She reached out and patted the petals gently, whispering goodnight, while her helmet rested at her side, the crystal on it still shining dimly against the wall.

Soon enough her eyes had started to close, when she suddenly heard the familiar voice.

The radio's static cracked sharply, and a strong, commanding voice filled the air. It was clear, sharp enough to cut through the stale stillness, and she recognized it instantly—the voice from yesterday. Lord Corvin Steiner, the Planetary King of Achios.

"Brave citizens and defenders of Achios," his deep voice rang out, rich with pride but heavy with something darker. "The enemy has broken within Bastion One and now have reached the gates of the Spire itself. And as much as it pains me to say this, my brothers, my position within the Spire—along with our beloved city and the entire planet—are about to fall entirely into these vile xenos hands. So now it falls on us few who still remain, to make sure that these xenos who ever they are will not gain anything more than smouldering ruins and a world of ash and death! It has been my greatest honor to serve as your ruler, to lead you through these final, glorious moments, but today, we choose the ultimate sacrifice—death in service to humanity, death in service to the Imperium and our immortal God-Emperor!"

Lili stayed very still under her cloak, her eyes wide. Something about the way he spoke made her chest feel tight.

"Praise the Emperor that he has delivered us to this place, so we may slaughter these xenos in his name," Steiner's voice thundered. "Remember, we do the Emperor's work, brothers— even now he watches us, and by the manner of our deaths will we be judged. So let us be washed into his holy embrace in fire and with the blood of the xenos. Let this world be purified! Glory to the Imperium! Glory to humanity! Glory to the Immortal God-Emperor!"

From the radio came a roar of voices—thousands of them—shouting back in unison:

"Glory to the Emperor!"

And then—nothing.

No voices. No static. Just silence.

And then just a moment later, the silence was broken by a low, distant rumble. It grew quickly, deep and angry, shaking the floor beneath her bedding. Dust trickled down from the ceiling, and the gravel on the tracks began to dance in tiny jumps. The walls groaned faintly, and the barricades creaked under the invisible weight pressing against them.

Lili sat up, clutching her flowerpot against her chest. The vibration went through her feet and into her bones. She wobbled slightly and had to plant her hands on the bedding to steady herself, her helmet rolling gently away across the floor.

Her big blue eyes darted to the doorway, but no one moved toward her. The soldiers were all still frozen around the radio.

The rumble continued.

And in her small, frightened voice, she whispered to no one in particular:

"What's happening…?"

But the rumbling did not stop.

It rolled through the ground like a giant's slow heartbeat, deep and constant, the kind of sound you didn't just hear—you felt it, in your ribs and in the back of your teeth. Somewhere far above, it felt like the world was breaking.

And soon enough she felt other quake's come, it was as if thousands of explosions were going off all throughout the planet causing it to shake. Lili clutched her flowerpot tighter. The glowing white blossoms trembled with each vibration, scattering tiny motes of dust from their leaves. She kept looking from the flowers to the soldiers, waiting for someone to explain what was happening. But no one spoke.

The Sergeant stood as if carved from stone, his head slightly bowed toward the dead radio, arms crossed. The Corporal's hands still rested on the controls, but the small, trembling movements of his gloves made it clear he knew there was nothing left to tune to. The others just stared at the floor or ceiling, their masked faces unreadable.

Another deep rumble came—louder this time—and a faint crack echoed somewhere in the station's far walls. Bits of gravel pattered down onto the tracks, bouncing lightly against Lili's boots. The air seemed heavier, like it had grown thicker in her lungs.

"Mister Sergeant?" she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Is it… is it the Sad People?"

The Sergeant didn't answer right away. He looked at her for a long moment, his visor catching the glow of her flowers. Then, instead of answering, he turned to the Medic.

"Check for any breaches," he ordered flatly. "See if the vents are still pulling clean air."

The Medic nodded once and moved off toward the nearest ventilation shaft.

Lili hugged the pot ever tighter and tried to listen past the ringing in her ears. The rumbling faded briefly, replaced by a distant, dull roar—like wind, but slower, heavier, as if the whole planet was groaning. Somewhere in the tunnels beyond the barricades, she thought she heard faint thuds, as if small rocks were falling in far-off darkness.

The Medic returned after a few minutes, his movements slower than usual. "Air's still coming in," he reported, "but… it's warmer. Feels dry." His tone was careful, but something in it made the Heavy glance at him sharply.

The Sergeant nodded slightly, but said nothing.

A new sound reached them then—a faint, brittle tapping against metal. At first, Lili thought it was just loose gravel falling again, but it didn't stop. It came in irregular bursts, like something tiny was hitting the blast doors above the stairs.

The Corporal looked up. "That's… ash," he muttered. "Has to be. Falling through whatever cracks are left in the surface hatches."

Ash. Lili had heard the word before, in stories her father read to her about volcanoes and fires, but she had never seen it. She imagined the Sad People up there, burning things, and the smoke falling down from the sky. But there was something in the soldiers' voices that told her it was worse than that.

And soon enough the tapping grew into a faint, constant hiss as more particles trickled through unseen gaps. The air began to smell different—not smoky exactly, but sharper, almost metallic, with a dryness that made her throat itch.

Another quake rolled through the ground, harder this time. Somewhere far above, something gave way with a sound like distant thunder. It was followed by another, deeper roar, and a strange hollow boom that seemed to echo up from the planet's bones.

"Are those volcanoes?" the Medic said quietly to no one in particular. "The quakes must be setting them off."

The Heavy shifted uneasily. "And if they're erupting in the north ranges… that ash cloud will cover half the planet."

The Sergeant didn't disagree. He didn't say anything at all.

Lili's little fingers tightened around the flowerpot until her knuckles ached. She didn't understand all their words, but she understood enough to know it wasn't good. They were talking about the whole world—her whole world—being buried under something that would never go away.

The radio gave a faint crackle, and every head turned toward it, but no voice came. No static, even. Just silence.

The Corporal leaned closer to the controls, adjusting dials, pressing buttons, flipping switches that had worked before. But there was still nothing. He leaned back and shook his head slowly. "There's nothing left. No signals, no chatter, no emergency beacons. It's all gone."

For Lili the words were like a final door closing in the dark.

In worry she looked from one masked face to another, waiting for someone to tell her it was only broken and they'd fix it soon. But no one did. The way they all avoided looking at each other told her they already knew what it meant. They just didn't want to say it.

Her voice came out smaller than she meant it to. "So, is nobody going to talk on the radio anymore?"

The Sergeant's reply was careful, too careful. "Not for now."

She didn't know why, but that made her chest feel heavy, like she couldn't breathe quite as deep. She curled up against the wall with her flowers in her lap, resting her cheek against the petals. The glow from the light stone inside the pot painted her face in soft white.

The soldiers began checking their weapons and adjusting barricades, moving just enough to look busy. But she could tell they weren't really working—they were thinking. Thinking hard about something none of them wanted to say out loud.

Soon enough more quakes came again, softer this time, but the ash-tap on the doors didn't stop. It was constant now, like the sky itself was falling grain by grain onto the world above them.

Lili closed her eyes, but her mind wouldn't settle. She thought about the streets of Mikri Poli, about her mother's strict voice, her father's warm smile, the park with the benches and the bright white flowers. She wondered if any of it was still there, or if it was all gone now, covered in black dust that would never melt away.

When she opened her eyes again, the Sergeant was standing at the edge of the platform, looking toward the barricaded tunnels. Not moving, and not speaking. He was just watching, clearly in deep thought as were the others.

Seeing them Lili just pulled her cloak tighter around herself, holding her flowers close. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but for now, the only thing she felt was the same as the soldiers. They didn't know what exactly had happened, and that meant she didn't either.

Like so, day 13 within the metro ended with great uncertainty and the soft hiss of ash on metal, the slow throb of quakes far below, and a feeling that whatever had happened above… had left them more alone than they had ever been.

However for Lili sleep did not come that night as the hissing of ash against metal did not stop.

It was the only real sound now, threading through the silence like a needle—soft, steady, impossible to ignore. Also every so often, the quakes still came, deep groans rolling through the bones of the planet, but they were further apart now, almost tired. Between them, the metro station was still, as if holding its breath.

The soldiers had taken up their night stations without a word. Two watched the barricades from the shadows, rifles held loose but ready. The rest sat or lay in their chosen corners, armor creaking softly when they shifted. And even still no one spoke, no one wanted to.

Most of the soldiers like the Corporal were now only looking at some crumbled up pictures of what seemed like loved ones, while the Sargent merely mumbled something about being close to retiring but then this just had to have happened, and all of them seemed to be frustrated of the fact that a planet like Achios had gotten attacked as they all had expected a post on the planet to be easy.

Lili wasn't sure how it all worked, but she had oftentimes heard from mother and other adults about the planetary defence forces of Achios, and she had heard that their jobs were really easy and desired. So for Lili it seemed to now make sense that especially the ones who had come off planet from elsewhere within the wider Imperium to work as planetary defence forces here of Achios, the sudden attack of the sad people must have been quite unexpected and sudden. Lili figured that most of the soldiers like the Sargent had not been looking to actually get involved in anything heroic like the people in movies, and so now they were probably feeling quite unlucky that they indeed were here in this dark place surrounded by so much danger.

Also, slowly but surely Lili could feel it, the air was getting colder. It was sliding in through the vents in thin, bitter streams, carrying with it that strange dry taste—the faint tang of metal and stone, and something else Lili didn't have a name for. Her breath fogged faintly in front of her when she leaned out from her cloak, though it vanished quickly in the dimness.

Only the light stones seemed untouched by it.

They glowed quietly around the station, each with its own steady rhythm—tiny heartbeats of warmth. Closing her eyes Lili could feel them all connected to her, and when she really concerned her power into her eyes she could not only see more clearly within the dark, but she could see the small magical strings going from here core to all the light stones.

Seven of them were throbbing slowly and calmly attached to the soldiers helmets, one was attached to her helmet, and she could also feel the several light stones that surrounded her garden and the station at large. Another light stone flickered faster, almost eager, in the sleeping area. It was her own largest one pulsing under the soil of her flowerpot, casting white magical firelight up through the blossoms. None of the light stones were the same, but together their breathing light and warmth covered the station like a blanket.

When she'd first made them, she thought of them as little lamps. Now she knew better. They weren't just light—they were warmth that pushed the cold back and air that felt cleaner, easier to breathe. The Medic said they burned away the bad things, though she wasn't sure how. She only knew that when she sat near them, her chest felt looser, her head clearer.

Tonight, their glow felt sharper somehow, like they were working harder—beating their warmth further into the corners of the station, chasing away the shadows that clung stubbornly to the far walls. Their pulses were slow but strong, a rhythm she could feel even through the ground.

Lili pulled her cloak tighter and lay on her side, cheek pressed to the cool ceramic of her flowerpot. She matched her breathing to the thrum beneath the soil. In, out, beat. In, out, beat. It was like listening to the heartbeat of something that would never get tired, never give up.

And so as the ash hissed on above, and the quakes grumbled far away, and the air stayed cold, she slowly found herself falling fast asleep to the sounds of the stones beating cores of little lights.

***

When the next morning came in the metro, Lili's first thought was that the air somehow felt lighter. Using her little finger's today she counted to 14 proudly, and for a while she just layed under her oversized cloak, listening to the soft hum of her light stones and the distant hiss of ash in the vents. The quakes had eased in the night, leaving only the slow, steady beats of the stones to keep her company.

It seemed that everything within the metro was fine, Lili thought. Her garden still glowed under the gentle beat of the light stones, the strawberries and herbs growing happily in their little plots, the air around them warmer and fresher than anywhere else in the station. The stones breathed their quiet warmth, keeping the cold from creeping in too far, keeping the "bad air" out like invisible walls. To her, the metro was safe, quiet and familiar.

But for the soldiers, the fourteenth day underground seemed to feel heavy—heavier than any before.

Fourteen days without sunlight. Fourteen days of breathing through filters. Fourteen days of hearing the infected in the tunnels, imagining their twisted smiles and hungry eyes. And just yesterday, the radio had gone silent, the last hopeful voices from Achios Prime snuffed out like candles. The capital—the last place on the planet still fighting—was gone.

The weight of it all showed most of all on the Corporal who kept looking at the barricades intensely. Clearly he wanted to go and get away from this place. Lili looking at the crumbled up picture within his left hand could see that whoever those people were to him, they were most likely precious, and he wanted to go to them really badly.

Then the Sergeant approached her quietly, his boots crunching on gravel. "Lili," he said, his voice steady but with a weight behind it. "I need you to do something for us."

She sat up, brushing her hair from her face. "What is it?"

"I want you to tell me if the air here is safe. No guessing—use your… gift." His eyes lingered on the light stone in her flowerpot, then returned to hers. "If it's clean, if there's no sickness, we can take these masks off. For the first time in… fourteen days. I think the others can't wait much longer."

The other soldiers had paused what they were doing—checking barricades, cleaning rifles—and were watching her now. She could feel the hope in the room, quiet but sharp.

Lili nodded, placing her small hands together over her chest. She closed her eyes and let the warmth from her core spread outward, following invisible threads that reached into every corner of the station. She felt the slow, steady thrum of the light stones, the faint swirl of air from the vents, and the deep stillness of the tunnels beyond.

When she opened her eyes again, she smiled. "It's fine. There's no bad air here."

The Sergeant held her gaze for a moment, then gave a single nod. "Alright. Helmets and masks off."

One by one, the soldiers reached up and released the seals on their helmets. The soft hiss of escaping air filled the station as masks and helmets came free, revealing their faces to Lili for the first time. And for a long moment she stared, wide-eyed. They weren't faceless armored giants anymore—they were men. Tired men, with unshaven faces, messy hair, weary eyes, and lines etched deep from long days underground.

The Medic was the first to smile at her, a small, warm smile that didn't hide his exhaustion. The Corporal had sharp features and eyes that looked like they were always scanning for something far away. The Heavy had a wide, square jaw and a small scar at his temple, but his expression was gentle when it rested on her.

The Sergeant crouched beside her. "You should know who's looking after you. I'm Sergeant Halvern. That's Corporal Venn." He gestured to the man by the radio. "Our Medic—Orrin. The big one is Heavy Gunner Rask. Riflemen Karst, Juno, and Fenn."

Lili repeated the names softly to herself, committing them to memory like they were treasures.

And soon enough they all gathered around the platform in a loose circle like a real family, sharing from the small harvest from Lili's garden that had already begun producing edible things. The Medic—Orrin—handed her a wooden bowl. Inside were fresh strawberries from her own garden, peas still in their pods, and small sprigs of herbs. The sight made her beam.

It wasn't much, but after two weeks of nothing but ration drinks, the sweetness of the strawberries and the green crispness of the peas felt like a feast. Even the Corporal's eyes softened as he bit into one, though his gaze still wandered toward the blocked tunnels.

For a little while, the station felt warmer—not just from the stones, but from the simple act of eating together. For the first time since she had met them, Lili knew their names, their faces, and the sound of their real voices.

However the small meal didn't last long, and it didn't fill much of anyone's stomachs. Strawberries vanished first, then the peas and herbs, leaving only the faint, sweet smell in the air. The Medic collected the small bowls and returned to his brewing pot, mixing up the thick, familiar drinks. The men drank in silence, their faces still bare, the dim white glow from the light stones painting them in soft shadows.

But not everyone seemed content.

The Corporal—Venn—had been quiet the whole time, chewing slowly, his gaze fixed on the dark mouth of the nearest barricaded tunnel. When he finally set his empty drink down, the sound of the tin against the platform floor was sharper than it needed to be.

"I've had enough," he said, his voice steady but hard.

The other men looked up. The Sergeant didn't move. "Go on."

"Fourteen days down here," Venn began, his eyes never leaving the barricade. "No sunlight, no clean air, no word from the surface since the capital went dark. No certainty of rescue coming. No plan beyond 'wait.'" His jaw tightened. "I've got a family, five young kids and a beautiful wife. They're not here—they're off-world. In the neighbouring system. And I can't just sit here, hoping someone will come get us so that I can go see them again. And what if those monsters are already moving and attacking other systems, what if my family is in danger? I have to go see them, and make sure their fine."

"You think you'll get to them from here, with those things still out there hunting for us?" the Sergeant asked.

"I think going is better than rotting in this tomb," Venn shot back. "You know the spaceport isn't that far, maybe a day's walk from here through the metro tunnels, and even less if we take the surface route. And I know it's unlikely that there's still a working ship at the spaceport, but there is still a chance, and I'm taking that chance. And if I make it off-world, I'll find help and bring it back. But I'm not spending another day breathing stale air, waiting for nothing here."

The Sergeant finally turned to face him fully. "Out there, we don't know what's waiting. Could be thousands of infected, or even tens of thousands, or even more than that, and all of them still hunting in the tunnels. There could be ash thick enough to kill you before you see the first street. Could be nothing left of the spaceport but rubble." He paused, voice flat. "You walk out there, Corporal, it's suicide."

"Doing nothing is suicide too," Venn said. "At least this way, I die trying."

The words hung in the air. None of the other soldiers spoke. Lili sat cross-legged near her garden, a half-eaten strawberry in her hand, watching the exchange with wide eyes. She could tell they all wanted to go. It was in the way their eyes lingered on Venn, then on the tunnel, then back to their drinks. But it was also in the way none of them moved. Fear, she thought. Not of fighting—but of dying for nothing.

The Sergeant's gaze swept the group once. "Fine," he said at last. "We'll vote."

He didn't look at the riflemen. He didn't look at the Medic, or the heavy. He looked at Lili.

Her stomach tightened. "Me?"

"You," the Sergeant said. "Your word decides it more than anything."

All eyes were on her now. Even Venn's hard expression had softened, just slightly.

Lili looked down at her flowers. She thought of the garden without her light stones, without her to tend it. She thought of the tunnels and the strange songs in the dark, and the Sad People's faces in her dreams. Her little hands tightened on the strawberry.

"I don't want to go," she said quietly. "It's scary out there."

The Sergeant nodded once, as if that settled everything. "Then it is decided, we stay."

No one argued. Venn's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. The others glanced between themselves, and one by one, they gave small nods. Whatever their own doubts, Lili's word was enough.

From that moment, the decision felt final. They all had already known it since before, they weren't just waiting for help or trying to survive. They were here to protect this miracle child, and so they would stay here as long as it took for help to come, and they would protect her no matter what.

***

That night purpose found all of them seemingly again, Lili thought.

After the vote was over, and the decision was made that they were staying, something shifted in the air after that.

Before, they had been holding their ground—watching, waiting, conserving strength for a rescue that might never come. Now, simply waiting didn't feel like enough. They needed more than barricades and small rations for sustenance. If they were going to live here, if they were going to protect Lili, they would turn this forgotten place into something worthy of being called home.

The work began almost at once.

The Corporal—Venn—took the lead on mapping the surrounding tunnels for possible easy to scavenge area's that they could reach safely. With scraps of old metro maps and the faint light of a stone clipped to his belt, he traced ventilation paths, marked sealed and unsealed maintenance routes, and noted every possible escape point. His careful sketches took shape on a scavenged sheet of plastic walling, building a picture of the labyrinth beyond their barricades.

Rask, the Heavy, threw himself into the physical labor. He hauled rubble away from the platform edge, clearing space beyond the garden. Dust and grit filled the air with each heave, but the garden's light stones glimmered all the brighter against the newly cleared ground. Even here, where food was more valuable than gold, he made sure it looked clean, orderly—somewhere worth returning to at the end of the day.

The riflemen worked together in the shadows of a side maintenance room. They coaxed life back into the power conduits of the old metro station, rerouting what energy remained to the sleeping area mostly. The rest of the station stayed dim to save power, but that corner now glowed faintly with other lights than just Lili's stone's, casting a warm halo over the makeshift beds and crates. In the low light, it felt less like a military post and more like the edge of a hearth. Although that day and the next as much as they tried they couldn't get the water systems or anything else to work.

The Medic—Orrin—took to cleaning the old convenience store and everything else in earnest. Dust, wrappers, and broken glass vanished under his meticulous hands. One corner became a tidy triage bay; the shelves were cleared and sterilized with boiled water, ready to hold supplies. He even took to scrubbing and sterilizing old food canisters, stacking them neatly in rows. "These are for hopefully in the future collecting rainwater," he said, but Lili decided it was because he liked how clean things looked.

And Lili? She happily followed the Sergeant everywhere who's outward facial features and attitude much always reminded Lili of her mother.

Halvern walked the length of the platform with the silent focus of a commander, pointing to places that needed more light stones, areas where the cold crept in through hairline cracks. Lili would place her hands on a chosen stone or a small piece of concrete, let the warmth from her core spill into it, and leave it glowing where it was needed most.

It was during one of these rounds, while Rask was working the far side of the platform, that she saw it—a collapsed kiosk, half-buried in dust and debris. Its bent shutter hung at an angle, one corner open just enough for her to slip through.

Inside was stale air and the thick smell of rot. Old fruit lay black and sunken on cracked tiles. She wrinkled her nose, stepping over wrappers and fallen shelves. Then she spotted it—half-hidden beneath a mound of paper waste, a crinkled plastic trash bag, sealed in layers of wax paper.

She dragged it into the light, her small fingers working at the seal until it gave. Inside was the remains of an ancient fruit basket, the rind and flesh long since gone—but not the seeds. At the very bottom, still intact, were shriveled cores from apples, their seeds nestled safely within.

Her heart leapt. Seeds were life. Seeds could be made to grow.

She cradled the handful in her palm as if they were jewels and ran to the Sergeant, breathless.

"Look what I found!"

Halvern's eyes widened, not with awe, but calculation. He plucked one seed from her hand, turned it in his fingers, then held it up to the light.

"You know, Lili… if you grew these into trees, real big ones, you could get us wood. With wood, we could build more than just barricades. We could make this place into a proper home."

Rask, overhearing, stopped mid-haul. "Trees mean lumber. Wood. Fuel. Shelter. Furniture. If these grow, we can build."

The Sergeant turned to the rest of the squad. "We're not just surviving anymore, boys."

Then his eyes went back to Lili. "We're starting over. We're building something the infected won't ever take from us. And when our people come back to take this planet, they'll have a base here—strong, ready, and waiting."

In that moment, for the first time since the skies had gone dark, the tunnels felt brighter—not just from the light stones, but from the thought of something growing again.

***

Time had passed once more as it always did, but down in the Metro it moved differently. There was no sun to rise or set, no sky to turn from gold to black — only the steady glow of light stones, the hum of recycled air, and the slow, patient beat of life that had learned to endure.

One hundred and fifty-seven days had passed since Lili had first been carried through the tunnels, her world above collapsing into madness. Now, the abandoned station was no longer just a hideout — it was a living thing, shaped by careful hands and stubborn will into something that could last.

The old gravel-covered track bed had been cleared and leveled. Lili's garden had claimed a third of the station, its soil rich with compost gathered from every scrap the squad could find. Vines clung to the sides of the platform, leafy stalks rose toward the ceiling, and neat rows of roots pushed steadily deeper into the dirt. Her strawberries had long since fruited and fruited again, and between them grew peas, beans, herbs, and two young apple saplings — the tallest already past her height, their leaves glossy in the crystal light.

Each plant had been touched by her light more than once. Some needed only a little coaxing, others demanded weeks of her patient care. But everything here grew stronger than it had any right to, thriving under the gentle radiance of her stones. The soldiers knew it too — every leaf, every shoot was a quiet promise that they could endure.

Beyond the garden, the station itself had been transformed. The convenience store was now a proper living space — shelves cleared, floor scrubbed, insulation lining the walls to hold warmth. The barbershop had become their latrine, clean and functional, its old mirrors polished just enough to check a mask seal or straighten gear.

The riflemen had wired the sleeping area with steady, low light. The Medic kept a small triage corner ready, its equipment scrubbed and organized. Rask had reinforced the barricades until they looked like they belonged there, layered with steel, rubble, and sandbags salvaged from deeper in the tunnels. The Corporal's maps of the metro spread across a wall in the maintenance room — routes marked in colored chalk, ventilation lines traced, potential hazards noted with care, and places crossed over that the squad had already scavenged and cleared of the infected.

The routines were ingrained now. The Sergeant inspected the perimeter and checked for signs of tunneling every morning. The Corporal still tried the radio once a day, listening to nothing but static. The riflemen kept traps laid in unused tunnels, though they were rarely triggered now. The Medic rationed food, water, and Lili's healing carefully.

And Lili herself… she had grown into her role. She could feel when the cold was creeping in through the walls, when a corner needed a lightstone to keep the air clean. She knew the garden's needs by touch, could tell which plant wanted water and which wanted warmth. Sometimes she thought about the surface — the sky, the wind — but she did not long for it the way she once had. Here, underground, she had made something live.

The infected were still out there. Now and then their voices would drift through the tunnels — the broken laughter, the sickly song. The soldiers would go still, weapons ready, and wait for it to pass. It always did. The Sergeant thought they were conserving their strength, waiting for something. Lili wasn't sure, and she didn't like to think about it.

But for now, the station was safe, warm and alive. And slowly but surely Lili could feel the infected becoming less and less or simply just moving further away and becoming silent, or maybe they were just hibernating like the Sargent through his books had thought her that some animals like to do sometimes.

***

Day 732 Within the Metro.

Two years ago, the abandoned metro station had been nothing but cracked concrete, rusted steel, and the stale breath of a world choking under ash. Now, under Lili's care, it was a living thing.

The tracks were gone beneath a black carpet of fertile soil, rich with composted plant matter, soldier rations, shredded cloth, and even their own waste — all purified by her light stones. Tall green stems reached toward the ceiling like worshippers toward Heaven's Tower of Light, leaves glistening with moisture that had gathered from the plants themselves. Small puddles formed where condensation dripped steadily, giving the squad clean water without the metallic bite of recycled supply.

The apple trees were no longer saplings. Thick-trunked and leaf-heavy, they had bloomed and fruited many times over. Their wood — dried and cut with careful reverence — had become the bones of new furniture, barricade reinforcements, and even small toys and tools Lili made with Rask's help. Fresh seeds were already planted, rows of tiny sprouts drinking in the pale fire of her crystals.

Her light stones — hundreds of them now — pulsed from walls, ceilings, and even embedded in the soil. Some beat slow and deep, radiating steady warmth that held the cold at bay. Others gave quick, bright flashes like tiny suns, urging plants to grow as though chasing a race only they could see. Each was linked to her Core; each throb of light was a heartbeat of her will. Even without sun, water, or natural soil, life here grew ten times faster and stronger than it had any right to.

The air was different here, too. Where the rest of the metro tunnels still smelled of dust, rust, and death, this station was thick with the scent of leaves and blossoms. Breathing here was like breathing after rain — fresh, cool, alive. It was the kind of air that made men stand straighter and sleep deeper.

And yet, outside the station, the world was not alive.

For weeks now, the infected had gone almost silent. No constant choruses from the "Sad Singers," no scraping claws against metal, only the occasional far-off echo — a human-like cry, or the bark of an infected dog that never came closer. The tunnels were an empty throat holding its breath.

Life inside continued, bound to the routine they had built. The soldiers were more than guards now — they were her teachers. Sergeant Halvern taught her from the Holy Book of Mankind, explaining the Tower of Light and why he believed her Core was its fragment, a gift from God Himself. Medic Orrin gave her lessons in anatomy and medicine, sometimes using cut branches and fruit to show her how wounds could be bound or cleaned. Rask drilled her in stretches, strikes, and balance work, laughing softly whenever she toppled into the mats. The riflemen — Karst, Juno, and Fenn — showed her how circuits worked, letting her solder tiny wires or replace fuses in old equipment. Corporal Venn sat her beside his radio and explained the language of signals, static, and call signs, his voice quieter on the days he lingered over the photograph of his wife and five children.

Physically, Lili had changed too. She was no longer the frail four-year-old they had found. Her build was still petite, but her legs had muscle from running the length of the platform, her arms from carrying soil and water. Her face was sharper in its symmetry, the Core keeping her health flawless, skin unblemished and eyes clear. Her golden hair — waist-long now — caught every shard of light, and when she smiled, it was the kind of smile that made tired men forget their aches for a moment.

This place was her kingdom now. Not of stone and steel, but of leaves, roots, and light.

When she walked the rows of plants, her bare hands trailing over green leaves, she looked every bit the angel the Sergeant whispered she was. An angel in boots too big, with dirt under her nails and a Core bright enough to turn a dead station into Eden.

And though the men still dreamed of seeing their families again, of walking in real sunlight, of leaving Achios altogether… they could not deny it: here, because of her, they had survived in perfect health. Not a cough, not a fever, not even an old scar remained.

The world above might have ended. But in the metro, because of Lili, life had only just begun.