The Zone had gone quiet. Not the dangerous kind of quiet from the old days, but the kind where patrols ended early because nothing needed fixing. Harvests came in on schedule. Disputes settled themselves in the common halls before anyone called a meeting.
Atlas stood at the edge of the training yard one morning, spear in hand, and realized he had sharpened it three times already with nothing to use it on.
Elara found him there. She carried two mugs of tea and handed him one without a word. They sat on the bench they had built years ago, the one with the lopsided legs that still held weight fine.
"Feels strange," Atlas said.
"Yeah." Elara took a sip. "Good strange. Mostly."
The weeks after Glitch Day had smoothed everything out. Horizon protocols kept the borders stable. Newer residents handled the day-to-day without running to them first.
Atlas and Elara still showed up when asked, but the asks came less often. Their days stretched long and open.
