The wind tasted like rain and dust, not digital pulses. Real air, real clouds drifting across a soft blue sky. After everything the simulations, the construct collapses, the rebirth of Orion and the awakening of Echo this was the first time in years that Layla felt like she was home.
Not the simulated home of old Earth archives, but the real thing.
They stood on what remained of the old capital a city reclaimed by moss, vines, and the quiet patience of time. Cracked skyscrapers bent like leaning trees. Pavement was broken into mosaic patterns by roots. The machines that once roamed the streets had long since rusted and become statues of the past.
Cole crouched beside a small flower blooming through a manhole cover. He touched it like it was sacred. "We made it back," he whispered.
