Frankie woke before the others.
Her eyes opened to a world that moved too slowly, like it hadn't finished loading. The supermarket lay in washed-out grey light. Dust floated in the air, suspended as if gravity itself were undecided. The others slept in a loose ring across the lino, blankets tangled, packs huddled beside them like loyal animals.
Beneath her shirt, the amulet pulsed once.
Heavy. Patient. Awake.
She climbed down from the counter without a sound. Yara murmured in her sleep, some half-remembered prayer from temple school. Luca shifted, his hand brushing his weapon before settling again. He still needed rest. Frankie didn't.
Outside, Milan waited.
She slipped through the barricade and into the empty street. Cold air touched her skin, but it didn't bite. It simply acknowledged her.
She ran.
Not sprinting. Not pushing. Just stepping forward and letting distance collapse. Her feet barely touched the cracked asphalt. Her breath stayed smooth. Buildings blurred. The wind didn't even have time to howl.
She stopped a block away.
Turned.
She had crossed the distance in a single breath.
Frankie exhaled, watching frost drift from her lips. The world felt softer now. Slower. Like everything else was moving through water while she walked on air.
She returned to the supermarket before anyone stirred.
By midday, the group was restless with hope. They joked about real bread and warm beds. Rafe kept glancing toward the horizon.
"Today we hit the fortress," he said. "Fill the packs. Then we're ghosts before sundown."
The Sforza Fortress. A ruin-runner's myth. A tomb of old steel and sealed vaults.
To the others, it was fortune.
To Frankie, it felt like gravity.
The clicking began near noon.
Faint. Distant. Scavengers.
Rafe raised a hand, but Frankie was already gone.
Two rat-classes gnawed at the ribs of a collapsed bus. She didn't draw her blade.
She lifted her hand.
Reality split.
A hairline fracture in the air. A pressure drop. A silent scream.
Both creatures froze, then parted along invisible seams, collapsing into drifting ash.
Warmth poured into her chest. Automatic. Hungry. Familiar.
She stepped back into the group before anyone noticed her absence.
Later, a tremor rolled through the street. A maw-class. Heavy. Dangerous.
Rafe tensed. Luca raised his spear.
"I'll check," Frankie said.
She didn't wait for agreement.
The beast lumbered through a ruined plaza, plated flesh grinding against stone. It barely had time to sense her before she moved.
A step. A gesture. Another tear in the world.
The creature collapsed in pieces, dissolving into pale dust.
When she returned, Rafe only asked, "Clear?"
"Clear."
By late afternoon, the fortress rose from the ruins broken towers, scorched stone, the skeleton of old defiance.
Rafe laughed. "There she is. We're legends today, kids."
Inside, they found riches. Ration crates. Clean water. Chains. Tools untouched by time.
Frankie wandered deeper, pulled by something colder than instinct. A spiral stair descended into rock. Old soot stained the walls. At the bottom waited a chamber carved from stone.
An altar.
Black. Smooth. Waiting.
Carved into its surface: a jagged circle, lines tearing outward.
The same symbol etched into her amulet.
The metal against her chest burned.
She placed her palm on the altar.
Something vast noticed her.
Not a voice. Not words. Just understanding.
Path confirmed.
Her stomach turned cold. Not fear but recognition.
Rafe's voice echoed from above. "Frankie! Armory's a goldmine. You find anything down there?"
She pulled her hand away, forcing a steady breath.
"Just stone," she called. "Just stone."
That night they camped inside the fortress. Firelight flickered against ancient walls. For the first time, they slept somewhere solid. Safe.
Because she was there.
Luca watched her across the flames. "You're quiet."
"Tired," she lied.
His gaze lingered. He was starting to see the outline of something that didn't fit inside human skin.
Frankie leaned back against cold stone. The amulet pulsed in time with her heart.
Thief.
Hunter.
Something else growing in the marrow.
The ascent wasn't a climb.
It was a fall.
And she was already past the point of stopping.