The smell hit them first, warm and savory and completely at odds with a world that had, until that moment, only smelled of ash and metal and rot.
On the long wooden table in the shade of the veranda, a spread of food waited. It wasn't a feast, not the lavish spreads of white tablecloths and polished cutlery they had seen in old world photos. But in a time where meals were rusted cans and whatever small animals you could trap, what Julyah had set out felt like magic.
Golden flatbread, crisp on the edges, layered with herbs and soft cheese. Bowls of roasted root vegetables glistening with oil and cracked pepper. A pot of lentils, thick and steaming, that smelled of earth and cumin and garlic.And in the center of the table, still warm from the solar oven, sat a peach cobbler made of preserved fruit and real honey and biscuit crumbs that had browned just so on top.
It was too much. Too real.
"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" Bryce asked, eyes wide as if the food might disappear if he blinked.
"You've been keeping this from us?" Tom asked with a low whistle, already grabbing for a piece of bread."Girl, you could've been running a restaurant before the Fall."
Ellis leaned forward, chin on hand, watching Julyah with a dreamy look in his eye. "I'm just imagining what it's like to be the guy who got lucky enough to marry you," he said. "A guy who gets to sit down and eat this kind of food every day? He never leaves."
Julyah, who had already gone flush from the praise, went bright red at that.
"I just followed a recipe I remembered," she mumbled, brushing a strand of hair behind one ear as she sank down into the seat beside them. "It's not that fancy."
"It's the best thing I've had since the sky fell," Mira said. She stabbed a roasted carrot for emphasis and exhaled like it was the first breath of life she'd taken in years. "And yes, that includes when Adrian found that bunker jerky and somehow thought it was safe to eat."
Adrian grunted. "Smelled fine to me."
"It glowed," Tom replied. "No meat should glow."
Laughter tumbled over the table, bright and loud. The kind of laughter that made them all remember that they were still alive. Even Julyah laughed, and when she did, it was like something else shifted. The air around them all got warmer and lighter. As if the tension they all carried on their shoulders had somehow, at last, been released.
Adrian noticed.
Mira noticed.
Mira didn't speak. She only watched, the way one watches a door slowly open. She saw the way Adrian looked at Julyah when she laughed. The way something hard and shut behind his eyes cracked just a little every time Julyah smiled. Mira's fork clinked against her plate more sharply than necessary, but she didn't speak.
They had now been at the villa for nearly a month. The suffocating heat had at last broken. No more stepping outside and feeling like your skin might peel away. No more headaches from trying to breathe in the thick and still air. The sky had gone from a dull angry red to a pale blue that almost felt gentle.
That very morning, Greer had stepped outside barefoot and spent a full minute walking around in the grass before finally declaring, "I don't feel like I'm walking on Satan's stovetop. That's progress."
Tom and Bryce had sprawled out on the grass like lazy lions, soaking up the gentler air. Ellis had again tried to get the lemon tree to "share emotional insight," whatever that meant. Mira, the eternal realist, had rolled her eyes and accused him of losing brain cells to heatstroke.
They were now, at this dinner, talking like people. People who had maybe—just maybe—finally hit the point of no return.
"I'm just saying," Bryce said, stabbing at his bowl with his spoon, "I think it's a turning point. I think the world is done trying to kill us."
"We could start scouting again," Tom said. "Go exploring, see what's left. Even the ruins. There's got to be more people."
"Feels a lot safer now, too," Greer said. His voice was cautious, but not dismissive. He wanted to believe it, too.
All of them turned to look at Julyah.
She did not speak immediately. She set down her fork, slowly and deliberately, then folded her hands in her lap. Her face was placid, but something in her eyes had gone cold.
"Don't get comfortable," she said, her voice low but serious. The table went quiet.
"You've only seen two phases," she continued. "The heat was only the beginning. It's not over. It's a cycle. This change in weather you're all so excited about? It's not recovery. It's a warning. A reset. The cold is coming."
Ellis blinked. "You mean winter?"
"I mean a storm," Julyah said, steady gaze locked on the table. "Worse than any winter you've lived through. It's not just snow. It's ice that cracks steel. Winds that freeze your breath before you can exhale. It will last four months. Maybe more. If we're not ready, we won't make it."
Adrian leaned forward a fraction, watching her closely. "How do you know that?"
She turned away. Her fingers tightened in her lap.
"Just trust me," she said.
It wasn't an answer. Not really. But the conviction in her voice was enough. The easy warmth at the table dissipated. Everyone fell quiet again, but this time it was a silence of thought. Worry settled like a stain across the table.
Later that night, long after the fire had gone out and the courtyard had emptied, Adrian stood outside alone. The stars were visible through the thinning clouds. He could see them in patches, twinkling. He didn't know it, but it was the first clear sky he'd seen in months.
He didn't hear Julyah approach, but when he turned his head, she was there beside him. Wrapped in a thick blanket. She didn't speak right away, just stood there and looked up at the sky like it was a secret she wasn't ready to tell.
"You were right about the heat," Adrian said after a time.
"I'll be right about the cold, too."
He turned to look at her. "How do you really know that?"
She didn't look at him. She kept her eyes on the stars.
"I dreamed it," she whispered. "And in that dream... many did not survive."
Adrian didn't ask her about what else she'd seen. He didn't ask about what came after the cold, or who made it through.
He just stood next to her in the dark, silent, already preparing.
Because if Julyah was right, and by now, he was almost certain that she was, then the real fight had just begun.