Inside, the children huddled together while Jane and Tracey did their job as healers, their eyes darting between the older ones like they were watching a play they didn't understand but knew would decide their fate.
Yize's pen hovered above the page, unmoving.
Even Zichen, who had been vibrating with fury moments before, now stood frozen, his fists clenched at his sides. Tianyi remained between them, her back straight, her voice still echoing in the silence:
"You both need to keep quiet."
But quiet was never simple.
Rika knelt beside one of the younger girls, Mei, who had curled into herself like a leaf folding inward. "It's okay," she whispered, brushing Mei's hair back. "We're okay."
Mei didn't respond. Her eyes were locked on Yize.
He finally moved. The scratch of a pen on paper was like thunder.
"I didn't mean to be like this to anyone," Yize had said. But the truth was, intentions didn't matter here. Only actions. Only survival.
Zichen turned away, his shoulders rising and falling with each breath. "You think writing fixes it?" he asked, voice low.
"No," Yize said. "But it's a start."
Tianyi exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. "Then start."
Yize's hand moved faster now, words spilling onto the page like blood from a reopened wound. He didn't look up. Didn't speak. Just wrote.
Rika stood, her eyes scanning the room. "We need to prepare," she said. "If the theories are right, we have less than forty-eight hours before the next breach."
Zichen scoffed. "If you are right."
"You can ask Rika too, plus this vision is all we have," Tianyi said. "Unless you've got a better idea."
He didn't.
The older ones moved with purpose, though their eyes still flicked toward Yize, who had become something else now—something between a prophet and a prisoner.
Rika approached the table where the maps were spread. "We need to mark the weak points again. The last breach came through the west side of the road. If it happens again—"
"It won't," Yize said, not looking up. "It'll come from below."
Everyone froze.
"What?" Tianyi asked.
Yize flipped the notebook around. His handwriting was frantic, but the diagrams were clear. "The pressure readings. The seismic shifts. They're not random. They're coordinated. Something's pushing up."
Zichen leaned in, eyes scanning the page. "You're guessing."
"I'm not," Yize said. "I've been tracking it. Since before I left the shelter."
Rika's voice was tight. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because I didn't think it mattered," Yize said. "Because I didn't think anyone would listen."
Tianyi stepped forward. "We're listening now."
The room shifted again. The children gathered closer, drawn by the urgency in the air. Even Mei sat up, her eyes wide.
Yize pointed to the map. "We need to reinforce the subfloor. If we don't, whatever's coming will tear through us before we even know it's here."
Zichen hesitated, then nodded. "We'll need tools. Materials."
"We have some," Rika said. "Not enough."
"I'll go," Tianyi said. "To the old depot. There might be supplies left."
Yize's laugh was sharp, humorless. It echoed off the cracked concrete walls like a warning bell.
"The old depot?" he repeated, eyes wide with disbelief. "You think it's just two blocks away? You think that's close?"
Tianyi's brow furrowed. "It's the only place left with reinforced steel and sealant. We need it."
"You won't make it," Yize said, voice low and urgent. "The Angel's Eye patrols that stretch. It's not random anymore. It's hunting. If it sees you, you won't survive."
Tracey stepped forward, her voice trembling. "Are you sure?"
"I watched it," Yize said. "From the beginning and now. It has been learning."
Jane's hands trembled as she adjusted the torn shirt on a boy's arm. "Then what do we do? Sit here and wait to be torn apart from below?"
"No," Yize said. "We dig."
"Dig?" Rika echoed, incredulous.
"There's a maintenance tunnel beneath the old bakery," Yize explained. "It connects to the depot. It's narrow, unstable, and probably half-flooded. But it's covered. If we reinforce the entry and move fast, we might make it."
Zichen crossed his arms. "You're asking us to crawl through a tunnel that hasn't been used in years, hoping it hasn't collapsed?"
"I'm asking you to survive," Yize said. "That's the only way."
Tianyi nodded slowly. "Then we go."
"I'll go," Zichen said. "I'm faster. If it collapses, I can get out."
"No," Rika said. "You're strong, but you're impulsive. We need someone who can think under pressure."
"I'll go," Mei said.
Everyone turned.
She stood now, trembling but upright, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm small. I can fit through places you can't. And I know the bakery. I used to hide there."
Jane knelt beside her. "Mei, it's dangerous."
"I know," Mei said. "But I want to help."
Yize looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. "You'll need a guide. Someone to watch your back."
"I'll go with her," Tianyi said.
Zichen's voice cracked as he stepped forward, his body tense like a bowstring pulled too tight. "No. Absolutely not. Tianyi, you can't go down there. Not with her. Not alone."
Tianyi didn't flinch. "Zichen—"
"No," he said again, louder this time. "You're my sister. I'm supposed to protect you. I'm supposed to keep you safe. And now you're volunteering to crawl through a half-collapsed tunnel with a kid we just met?"
Mei's eyes dropped to the floor, her hands curling into fists at her sides.
I stepped in before the tension could snap. "Zichen," I said, keeping my voice low but firm. "I get it. I do. You're scared. You feel like you're losing control. But this isn't about control. It's about trust."
He turned to me, eyes blazing. "Trust? You want me to trust that my sister won't die in a tunnel we haven't even seen in years?"
"Yes," I said. "Because she's not just your sister. She's Tianyi. The same Tianyi who's kept us together when everything else fell apart. And Mei—she's not just a kid. She's something else."
Zichen's jaw clenched. "She's a child."
"She's a survivor," I said. "And sometimes, survivors come in small packages."