The city groaned under the late afternoon sun, though "sun" was more a weak filter through the thick smoke that hung over Southpoint. Aubrey and Mara moved silently through the narrow alleys, the remnants of yesterday's chaos still etched into the cracked pavement. The diner had been emptied, walls scorched, and broken glass littered the floors, but the memory of shadows and screaming lingered like a wound that wouldn't heal.
Neither spoke for a while. Words seemed unnecessary; the city whispered enough warnings on its own. Aubrey's Bloodfire pulsed faintly beneath his skin, a subtle reminder that even in moments of quiet, danger waited just around the corner.
"Where will we even go?" Mara finally asked, voice soft, eyes scanning the rooftops. "We can't stay here forever."
Aubrey glanced at her, brow furrowed. "Not forever. But one last night… one last look. We need to leave on our own terms, not because someone forces us out."
They wandered toward the old marketplace, the heart of Southpoint when the city had vibrated with life. Most stalls had been abandoned long ago, vendors either gone or hiding, leaving only broken carts and tattered awnings. A faint breeze carried the acrid smell of metal and burnt trash, mingling with the faint sweetness of rotting synth-fruits. Aubrey's fingers itched to touch the cold metal, to feel control, but he held back. The city demanded respect.
Mara stopped at a collapsed wall, running her hand along a graffiti-covered surface. "I used to think this place was everything. My home, my life. And now… it feels like a cage."
Aubrey nodded. "It was never meant to feel like home. We survived, yes, but the cost… you've seen it. I've seen it. There's no going back to pretending things are normal."
She sighed, leaning against the wall. "Do you think we'll ever feel normal again?"
He didn't answer immediately. The streets were quiet but not empty. Shadows lingered in corners, slinking past alley entrances, observing, waiting. Even without the Watchers pressing close, the city itself seemed to have eyes. Finally, he said, "Maybe. But not here. Not for a long while."
A faint laugh escaped Mara, bitter but soft. "Always the optimist."
Aubrey smirked. "Someone has to be."
As they moved toward the northern edge of the district, the crumbling bridge that led to the industrial sector, they passed familiar markers of survival: overturned crates they had used as cover, scorch marks on walls, the faint outline of a mural destroyed in gang fights. Aubrey paused at one spot, crouching to trace a claw mark in the concrete, a remnant of last night's encounter.
"Memories," he muttered. "Everything leaves a mark."
Mara stood behind him, hands folded, gaze distant. "Some marks… we carry inside. Some… we leave behind."
A sudden noise—a clatter from the shadows—made them freeze. Aubrey's blood hummed, fire itching at the surface, but it was only a small cat, gaunt and mangy, darting across the alley. Mara let out a shaky laugh. "Even the animals are cautious here."
They found a quiet rooftop to rest for a moment, the city sprawled beneath them. The streets glimmered with weak neon, flickering as if tired. Hovercars zipped past in distant grids, and the hum of generators filled the air. For once, Aubrey allowed himself a slow breath, letting the tension ease slightly.
"This will be the last night here," he said. "After tonight, we move. Nerra."
Mara's gaze lifted, eyes wide with both excitement and fear. "Nerra… you think we'll be able to… survive there? Fit in?"
Aubrey shrugged. "We'll adapt. We always do. Just… let's make this night count. Remember the streets, the chaos, the things we learned. Our ghosts. And… maybe laugh a little while we can."
Mara's lips curved in a tentative smile. "You really think we can laugh?"
"Not yet," Aubrey admitted. "But we'll try. Together."
They stayed on the rooftop as twilight crept over the city, watching the flickering lights below, listening to the distant sounds of sirens, shouts, and the faint rumble of machinery. It felt almost peaceful, a deceptive calm before the storm of change.
As darkness fell fully, Aubrey and Mara descended into the streets one last time, moving through alleys and broken paths. They visited the few corners that still bore memories—an abandoned arcade, the crumbling basketball court, the old warehouse that had been a temporary haven. Each step was a farewell, each glance a memory etched into their minds.
At the far edge of the district, where the walls of Southpoint met open roads leading to the unknown, they paused. Mara looked back, voice low. "Do you think we'll ever come back?"
Aubrey didn't answer immediately. The city stretched behind them, a patchwork of broken dreams and survival, and yet he felt no pull to return. "Maybe," he said finally. "But not as the people we are now. We're leaving… to become something more."
Mara nodded, shoulders squaring. "Then let's go."
They moved toward the edge, the wind carrying the faint scent of freedom mixed with danger. Somewhere in the distance, the first signs of Nerra's outskirts shimmered faintly under the dying light. Their journey was about to change completely, leaving Southpoint behind forever.
As they reached the old checkpoint that marked the boundary between the chaos they knew and the city they had yet to see, Aubrey felt the familiar pulse beneath his skin. Bloodfire wasn't hungry—it was alert, aware, waiting. Ready.
One last glance at the streets they had survived, the alleys that had tested them, the rooftops where they had fought, ran, and hidden. Then forward. Toward Nerra. Toward the future.
And with that, Southpoint faded behind them, a memory carried in scars, laughter, and the quiet hope that the next city would bring more than survival.