The night refused to breathe. The smoke from the ruptured Seam still hung low in the air, glowing faintly like embers trapped in fog. The ground was fractured where Lin's last surge had detonated—burnt lines crawling outward like veins of black glass. Hana sat amid the wreckage, Keller's weight heavy in her lap, her eyes flicking between him and Lin's motionless form a few meters away.
For the first time in hours, there was no hum, no pulse from the Seam. Only silence.
But silence had its own kind of terror.
Hana brushed Keller's hair back, her hand trembling. His skin was too pale, too still. "Come on," she whispered, her voice cracking. "You don't get to vanish now."
Keller's eyes fluttered open for half a heartbeat—silver glinting faintly in the dark. Then he coughed, a rough, human sound that almost made her cry. "Still… too dramatic," he rasped weakly. "You never change."
She laughed once, a sound halfway between relief and sob. "Neither do you."
