The landscape had changed.
Kael Rainer stood at the edge of an old ravine, where the earth had split decades ago during one of the first massive Voidouts. A black scar ran along the canyon floor, still marked by twisted BT residue and forgotten remains. The air was heavy—wet with chiral matter, humming like a broken radio station between stations.
He adjusted the cargo harness on his back, double-checked the pod's seal. It had been quiet today. No pulses. No screams. Just the soft, unnatural hum of its internal systems. The child inside—if that's what it really was—hadn't moved since they crossed into Sector K-8.
Mire appeared to his right, eyes scanning the ravine's depths. She wasn't as dim today—Kael could make out her form more clearly, even hear faint footsteps when she moved.
"I know," he murmured, following her gaze. "We're not alone."
The Odradek spun once, then hissed into silence.
Kael descended the slope carefully, boots crunching over bone dust and stone. Each step felt louder than it should have, like the world was holding its breath. Mire followed behind him, her gaze flicking between the cracks in the stone.
Halfway down, he stopped.
There—pressed into the rock, faint but unmistakable—was a footprint.
Not a BT's.
A human's.
And next to it, carved into the stone with something sharp:
"Keep walking. —S."
Kael crouched beside it, running his gloved hand over the surface. The letters weren't fresh, but they weren't ancient either. A few weeks old, maybe less.
Mire hovered over his shoulder, head tilted.
"She's still ahead," Kael muttered. "Somewhere."
For a moment, the pod on his back emitted a low chirp. Then silence again.
He pressed on.
---
The next outpost was nothing more than a half-collapsed station buried under ivy and dead snow. Kael forced the door open with a crowbar and ducked inside. Mire slipped through the wall without making a sound.
It was dark, but the backup power grid flickered once, then stabilized. Just enough to charge his suit and warm the air.
Kael didn't bother sitting. He removed the pod, set it on a metal table, and stared at it for a long time.
The child—Mire's double, or her origin—floated still in the gold solution, her eyes closed, peaceful.
"What are you?" he asked quietly. "A weapon? A key? A ghost?"
Mire appeared across from him, her expression unreadable.
Then—something happened.
Her form shimmered. Just for a moment, it split—like a double exposure. Two versions of her standing side-by-side. One, the same flickering, ethereal companion. The other—sharper. Solid. Eyes glowing gold.
And behind her, for a heartbeat, stood a woman.
Cloaked in black. Rifle over her back. Wind pulling her braid across her shoulder.
Kael's heart clenched.
Then they were gone.
He stepped back instinctively, blinking. "What the hell was that?"
The pod beeped once. Its lights pulsed, briefly syncing with Mire's glow.
Kael steadied himself. "You're remembering. Or showing me something I'm not supposed to see."
No answer. Just the hum of old tech.
---
Later that night, the rain began.
Timefall.
Kael sealed the outpost doors and activated the internal chiral barrier. Mire flickered restlessly by the pod, her form phasing in and out. Something was agitating her.
Kael sat by the terminal and pulled up a rough weather grid. The Timefall was spreading in a slow arc from Central Knot's direction—same place the UCA had tried to rebuild years ago. Rumors said Bridges was moving again. Reconnecting cities. Rebuilding civilization.
Kael didn't believe in that kind of salvation.
But something in the map made him pause.
A ping. Faint. Out-of-network. But tagged with a recognizable marker.
PORTER ID: SAMANTHA_BRIDGES // STATUS: ACTIVE
Kael leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
She was close. Just a few zones east. On the move.
No signal trail. No UCA tag. But her ID still pinged alive.
"Still walking," he whispered.
Mire turned slowly to him. She was glowing brighter now.
Kael stood and approached the pod. The girl inside stirred—only slightly. A twitch of her hand. A flare of chiral energy so faint it barely registered on the sensor.
"You know her," Kael said aloud. "Mire does too."
The pod beeped again.
Kael didn't know what it meant.
But he knew what he had to do.
---
At dawn, the Timefall stopped. The world glistened with fresh ruin—old metal rusted further, trees stripped thin, wild growth aging and dying in a single night.
Kael stepped outside.
He checked the path ahead. Steep ridges, unstable zones, BT sightings confirmed by survivors to the southeast.
And yet…
She was ahead.
Samantha.
The woman who left no trail except the silence behind her. The ghost who walked among ghosts. The one Mire seemed to remember—though Kael didn't know from where.
He adjusted the pod straps. Checked the pulse.
Then he turned to Mire. "Let's go."
She nodded.
Together, they stepped into the fog.
---
> There is a connection deeper than blood. A resonance not built by science or code. It walks. It remembers. It waits.
And it always returns to the ones who carry the world alone.