October 13th, 1940
Cheapsake
Cody no longer thought in terms of winning.
There was only distance now, distance between Meika and the fire, between her and Dwayne, and between what was still happening and what he needed to do to stop the future that desperately crawled on Meika's back. Meika's unconscious weight pressed against his back, fragile in a way that made every movement feel carefully measured, as though even breathing too sharply might worsen what had already been done to her.
Smoke clung to her hair and clothing, and Cody kept one hand steady against her to make sure she did not slip as he forced himself further through the burning remains of Cheapsake. Behind them, Dwayne advanced with a kind of calm certainty, moving through the ruins as though the destruction had already settled on its outcome and he was simply walking it into place.
Another wave of flame cut through the smoke, not wild but controlled, shaped with intent.
He reacted immediately, tightening gravity across the space between them. The ground responded first, buckling inward as debris lifted and collapsed in a distorted wave that disrupted the attack mid-flight. Fire scattered harmlessly across broken stone instead of reaching them, but even as the path opened for a moment, it was clear that the interruption had only bought him seconds.
He adjusted Meika higher against his shoulder, her weight shifting faintly as he continued backward through collapsing streets, every step away from the center of the fire feeling less like retreat and more like refusal to accept what he could not finish here.
Another shot broke through the haze as Cody drew his revolver and fired, the bullet cutting through heat distortion and forcing Dwayne to break his rhythm. The impact did not stop him, but it disrupted the precision of his next movement enough for Cody to gain another fragment of space.
Dwayne's voice carried easily through the burning air, steady despite everything unfolding around him.
"She will not escape what is coming, Rivera."
Cody tightened his grip on Meika and continued to move, jaw clenched as he pushed back against the instinct to turn and end it properly.
"You're wrong," he answered, though the certainty in it was strained, as if the words themselves were holding him upright.
Dwayne's expression did not shift. If anything, it softened into something almost instructional.
"You think this is about escape," he said calmly. "It never was."
Before Cody could respond, another surge of flame forced him to pivot sharply, heat washing past close enough to scorch the edge of his coat. He turned his body instinctively, shielding Meika from the worst of it as he continued to withdraw, refusing to let the fire reach her even in passing. He gritted his teeth, ready to continue the fight.
It was then that the voices of Federal soldiers cut through the smoke behind him, distant at first but rapidly approaching as reinforcements finally reached the district edge. Shadows formed along the ruined streets, their presence marking the first real boundary the fire had encountered since it began.
"Aid the General!" one of them ordered.
The formation tightened quickly, their rifles aimed at Newhiskey. Cody felt hands at his side as soldiers moved in to support him, steadying Meika's unconscious form as he finally allowed her weight to be transferred out of his arms.
He did not resist. Not because he trusted them, but because there was nothing left in him that could afford not to.
Behind the forming line, binding arrays ignited across the rubble, light stitching itself into the broken ground as containment protocols activated. The air itself seemed to tighten in response.
Dwayne slowed for the first time, not in fear, but in recognition of what had arrived too late to prevent what had already been done.
"You are not ending anything," he said quietly, almost conversationally.
The soldiers closed in as the binding light spread across the ruins, tightening the space around Dwayne in a controlled lattice of illumination and force. None of them hesitated, none of them negotiated; they moved with the certainty of men who had arrived not to judge what he had done, but to ensure it could not continue.
Cody stepped back into the formation, his eyes still locked on Dwayne through the smoke and falling ash. Only then did the weight of everything catch up to him, the strain of holding back the flames, the impact of movement through collapsing stone, and the pain radiating across his back where heat had finally found its way through his defenses.
His knees weakened before he could fully stop it, and soldiers immediately moved in to support him as his posture broke, voices calling for a medic as Meika's unconscious form was secured further behind the line.
Through it all, Dwayne remained still, watching as though he was not being captured so much as observing the closing of a necessary chapter.
When the containment fully engaged, his voice carried one last time through the burning ruin.
"This does not change what she has already seen."
March 6th, 1948
Revilla
Excitement hummed beneath Meika's skin as she stood in front of the mirror, smoothing the front of her baby-blue dress for what felt like the tenth time, though it never quite stayed smooth, no matter how carefully she adjusted it.
Behind her, the room had turned into a quiet kind of chaos that didn't feel stressful so much as alive. A pair of shoes sat near the bed where someone had clearly kicked them off mid-thought, ribbons and hair ties were scattered across the dresser in half-organized piles, and Shannah's own dress hung over the back of a chair, still waiting for the attention it had been promised an hour ago.
Shannah herself circled Meika with focused determination, occasionally stepping in to adjust a sleeve or smooth a fold as if the entire outcome of the evening depended on millimeters of fabric alignment.
"Hold still," she said at one point, lightly tugging at the fabric near Meika's shoulder.
Meika let out a small breath of amusement. "You've said that four times already."
"That's because you've moved four times already."
"Maybe you're the reason I keep moving."
Shannah paused just long enough to look at her properly, then stepped back with a knowing expression that made Meika immediately regret speaking.
"I'm not the one going to a concert with a certain boy," Shannah said, far too casually.
Meika's gaze dropped almost on instinct, warmth rising quickly in her cheeks.
"I'm not!"
"There it is," Shannah cut in, a smile tugging at her mouth as she leaned slightly forward. "That exact reaction."
"What reaction?"
"The one that appears the moment you realize you're about to deny something you absolutely are not prepared to explain."
Meika opened her mouth, found no immediate defense that sounded convincing, and closed it again.
Shannah nodded as if that confirmed everything she needed.
"I rest my case."
Meika exhaled, trying and failing to look unimpressed. "You don't have a case."
"I do. It's very strong. It's emotionally supported."
Before Meika could respond properly, her attention drifted back to the room itself, landing on Shannah's dress still hanging untouched over the chair.
A slight pause followed before she tilted her head.
"Aren't you supposed to be getting ready too?"
Shannah followed her gaze as though only just remembering the existence of her own outfit.
"I am getting ready," she replied.
"That dress has been on that chair for an hour."
"It's in the process of becoming ready."
"That's not how clothing works."
"It is if you believe in it hard enough."
Meika gave her a look. Shannah sighed as if conceding a minor point. "Fine. I'll get to it in a minute."
"You said that an hour ago."
"Because I was busy making sure you didn't panic and decide to wear your school uniform to a concert."
"I wasn't going to do that."
Shannah's expression said she didn't believe her for even a second.
"You considered it."
"…briefly."
"I knew it."
A knock came at the door before the conversation could continue further, and it opened almost immediately afterward.
Jazmin stepped inside, carrying a small wooden box tucked carefully under one arm, her eyes taking in the entire scene at once: the scattered ribbons, the half-finished preparations, Shannah still not fully dressed, and Meika standing in front of the mirror as though trying to decide whether she belonged in the moment at all.
A soft smile formed on her face as she closed the door behind her.
"I heard the two of you from down the hall," she said gently.
"We were having an important discussion," Shannah replied without missing a beat.
"She's interrogating me," Meika added.
"Same thing," Shannah said.
Jazmin gave a quiet laugh as she crossed the room, setting the box carefully on the dresser. "If this is what friendship looks like these days, I think I might have entered the wrong era."
The comment drew a smile from Meika before she could stop it, and as the conversation drifted around her for a moment, she found herself studying Shannah across the room.
It was strange.
Only a week ago, Shannah had been little more than a familiar face she occasionally passed in the Academy hallways. Meika hadn't known her favorite books, her habit of leaving pencils tucked behind her ears, or the way she seemed physically incapable of letting an awkward silence remain awkward for more than a few seconds.
Now she was standing in Meika's bedroom, arguing about dresses as though she had been doing it her entire life.
Under normal circumstances, that kind of sudden familiarity would have unsettled her.
She had grown used to keeping people at a distance. It had never been a deliberate choice so much as something that happened naturally. When enough people overlooked you, laughed at you, or decided who you were before ever speaking to you, eventually it became easier not to expect much from anyone at all. The walls had gone up slowly, built from countless small moments that seemed insignificant on their own but became something much larger when stacked together.
Most people never noticed those walls but Shannah had.
The surprising part was that she hadn't tried to tear them down.
She had simply walked through the gate Meika hadn't realized she had left open.
From the moment they met in the cafeteria, Shannah had spoken to her with an easy sincerity that never felt forced. She asked questions because she genuinely wanted answers. She listened when Meika spoke instead of waiting for her turn to talk. When conversations fell quiet, she never rushed to fill the silence or acted as though Meika's quietness was something that needed correcting.
Perhaps that was why everything felt so natural.
There had been no grand moment where they became friends, no dramatic declaration or life-changing conversation. Instead, the friendship had arrived in dozens of small moments scattered throughout the week. Shared lunches. Conversations between classes. Sketches exchanged across notebooks. The simple comfort of sitting beside someone who expected nothing from her except honesty.
Somehow those moments had accumulated without her noticing.
Now, standing in front of the mirror with Shannah fussing over details that probably didn't matter and Jazmin watching the entire exchange with amused affection, Meika realized she couldn't remember when she had stopped feeling nervous around her.
The realization should have felt strange.
Instead, it felt warm.
For so long she had convinced herself that friendship was something that happened to other people, something she could observe from a distance but never quite reach herself. Yet over the past week, Shannah had slipped into her life so naturally that it already felt difficult to remember what the days had been like without her.
And perhaps that was what surprised Meika most. Not how quickly they had become friends, but how easy it had been.
Shaking the thought away before she could dwell on it for too long, she reached for the wooden box resting on the dresser. Jazmin noticed immediately and stepped aside, a quiet smile forming on her face as she allowed Meika to open it herself.
The hinges creaked softly as the lid lifted.
Inside, resting against dark velvet, lay a silver pendant.
For a moment, Meika simply stared at it.
The design was unmistakably familiar. The intricate crest engraved upon its surface resembled the ceremonial pin her uncles wore during official functions and national commemorations, a symbol awarded to those who had helped establish the Republic at the conclusion of the Revolutionary War. Throughout her childhood, she had seen that pin countless times attached to his uniform, but this was different.
This one had belonged to her mother.
The realization settled over her slowly as she reached into the box and carefully lifted the pendant into her hands. The silver felt cool against her fingertips, carrying a surprising weight for something so delicate. As she turned it toward the light, the engraved details caught the glow from the nearby lamp, revealing the same craftsmanship and symbolism that had become woven into the history of the nation itself.
Yet history was not what made her hands tremble.
This was something her mother had worn. Something she had chosen. Something that had remained behind long after she was gone.
Meika's gaze lingered on the pendant while a thousand half-remembered feelings stirred somewhere beyond reach, fragments of memories she could no longer fully grasp but had never truly forgotten. When she finally looked up, she found Jazmin watching her with an expression that carried equal measures of affection and melancholy.
"Your mother wanted me to give that on your eighteenth birthday," Jazmin said gently. "She made me promise."
A faint smile touched her lips before she continued.
"But when I saw you today, I started thinking she might forgive me for being a little early."
The room grew quieter after that. Even Shannah, who usually seemed determined to fill every silence she encountered, remained respectfully still as Jazmin stepped forward.
"You remind me of her more every year," she said, her voice softening. "Not only because you look like her, although sometimes it's enough to catch me off guard. It's the little things I notice when you don't realize anyone is paying attention. The way you worry about people. The way you carry burdens you were never meant to carry alone. The way you keep moving forward even when you're frightened."
Meika lowered her eyes to the pendant again.
Jazmin reached out and gently adjusted the chain between her fingers.
"For a long time, I worried that the fire took more from you than it should have," she admitted quietly. "Not just your family, but your ability to look ahead. Every time I saw you, it felt like part of you was still standing in those ashes."
Her expression softened into something warmer as she looked between Meika and Shannah.
"But lately, that's changed."
Meika glanced up.
A smile spread across Jazmin's face, small but genuine.
"You laugh more now. You smile without forcing it. You've made friends, and today you're going to a concert you've been excited about all week. They might seem like small things, but they aren't."
She carefully fastened the pendant around Meika's neck before taking a step back.
"I think your mother would have wanted you to wear it on a day like this," she said. "Not because it's important to remember the past, but because it's important to remember that you still have a future."
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Shannah wiped dramatically at the corner of her eye.
"If everyone could stop being emotional for five minutes," she announced, "I'd appreciate it. You're making it very difficult to maintain my reputation."
The tension broke instantly, and Meika laughed despite herself.
As the sound filled the room, she felt the weight of the pendant resting against her chest, not heavy enough to burden her, but solid enough to remind her that some things could be carried without holding her back.
To Be Continued