Chapter 45: Quiet Soil, Loud Hearts
The city had quieted.
Not with peace, but with dread—the kind that crawled under your skin and made everything feel haunted. It lingered in broken windows, the long-dried blood staining the sidewalks, and in the wind that no longer carried songs, only warnings. The silence was unsettling, like the world had paused, holding its breath, waiting for something that would either save it or destroy it.
Selene moved ahead, her blade gleaming faintly in the fading light, each step deliberate, calculated. Her eyes scanned every corner, every shadow, a soldier in enemy territory. Her instincts were sharp, her body a finely tuned weapon, constantly on edge. She wasn't just walking through the remnants of the city; she was hunting, always alert for the slightest shift in the air, the smallest movement that could signal danger.
Aria followed closely, a duffel slung over her shoulder—lighter than it should've been. Most of their supplies were hidden within the thread of glowing air at her fingertips, a mysterious force she still didn't fully understand. Her pocket dimension had grown again, and now it pulsed with a strange, alien energy, as if the space within it were alive.
She could feel it. Breathe it.
"When I opened it earlier…" Aria spoke softly, her voice barely breaking the stillness. "It felt different. There's a lake now. And hills. It feels… alive."
Selene's gaze flickered to her briefly, a shadow of something—concern, perhaps—passing across her face. "It's adapting to you."
Aria furrowed her brow, confusion clouding her features. "I didn't do anything."
Selene didn't slow her pace, but her voice was steady, like it had been through countless trials. "You did. You survived. You cared. That's all it takes."
Aria blinked, the words catching her. "But how? Why now?"
"You're evolving faster than last time."
The words settled into the air like dust, heavy and unsettling. Silence followed, thick and suffocating. Neither spoke of the other life, the one they both carried with them but had buried too deeply to discuss. There was no need to. Not yet.
Selene exhaled slowly, her voice soft but firm. "Listen to me, Aira. You can't rely on your power—at least, not all the time. Not unless it's safe, or no one is watching. Not yet."
She stepped closer, her tone sharpening just slightly. "You have something rare, something dangerous. And there are people out there who would do anything to twist that—make you a tool, or worse."
Her fingers brushed Aira's shoulder, grounding her. "You'll have your freedom. Once we're strong enough, once you are… then you'll have full rein. Especially over your pocket dimension. But until then…"
Selene's eyes darkened. "You hide what you can't afford to lose."
—
They reached their destination—the remains of a gardening center. The shattered greenhouse lay half-swallowed by ivy, its bones of glass and rust barely holding together. Time had ravaged it, but nature had taken her claim. The air smelled of soil and rot, a mingling of life and death.
Selene moved first. Her blade sang through the air, swift and sure, cutting down an infected creature without hesitation, without a sound. She didn't waste energy. She didn't need to.
Aria didn't flinch.
Not anymore.
They combed through the remains of the gardening store together—fertilizer, dried seeds, rusted tools, packets of soil sealed by time and luck. Everything they gathered vanished into Aria's dimension, each item a seed of something new. A place untouched by decay. A sanctuary where time couldn't touch them, where there was no weight, no burdens to carry. A space where they could exist outside the ruin.
They were planting something, though neither of them spoke it aloud. Planting hope in the midst of destruction. Perhaps they were trying to grow something from the ashes, even if they weren't sure what it would look like. Or if it would even grow.
—
Later, they climbed to the rooftop of a nearby building. From here, the world stretched out in front of them—a vast, empty canvas where once there had been life. The stars began to whisper through the dusky sky, fragile and distant, like remnants of something forgotten. Aria leaned back on her hands, feeling the cold concrete beneath her, the cool night air curling into her lungs. For a moment, she closed her eyes, letting the silence wash over her.
It had become easier, this stillness. Less threatening. Less terrifying.
Selene sat beside her, her back straight, her gaze fixed on the horizon, always watching, always waiting. Her attention never wavered, not even for a second. Aria had long since learned that Selene was always poised for the next threat, always on guard. It was what made her so formidable. It was also what made her so distant.
"I saw something in the dimension," Aria murmured after a long stretch of silence. Her voice was barely audible, as if the words themselves might disturb the fragile peace between them. "A small cabin. It wasn't there before. It's like… it's waiting for someone."
Selene turned slowly, her eyes locking onto Aria's with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. "It's yours. It always was."
Aria's eyes searched Selene's face, looking for something more, something beyond the words. "You say that like you know something I don't."
Selene didn't blink. "Maybe I do."
Aria didn't push. She couldn't. There were things too delicate, too raw to force out of Selene. And some answers, she knew, weren't meant to be asked for, at least not yet.
Instead, Aria shifted closer, close enough for their arms to brush, the faintest connection between them. The warmth of Selene's presence, so steady and strong, radiated through her, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to blur.
Selene stayed still, the space between them barely perceptible, but it was enough. Aria could feel her restraint, could sense the war within Selene—between pulling her in and holding her at arm's length.
Selene stayed still because if she moved even an inch, she might pull Aria into her arms and never let her go. Not again.
Not after last time.
The weight of the past loomed between them, unspoken but ever present. They both carried it, a shared history they had yet to face, and perhaps never would. But in this moment, as they sat side by side beneath the stars, the tension between them was palpable, a fragile line neither dared to cross.
For now, they were still. But the quiet of the night held a promise. Something unsaid, yet undeniable. A truth neither of them was ready to confront.
Not yet.