The city was ending.
Not with silence, not with fire, but with the howl of metal.
I pressed Sylvie against me as the bunker shuddered from another strike. My daughter screamed in my arms, her small body jerking at every tremor. Above us the ceiling groaned, dust raining down in a thin gray haze.
Through the narrow window I saw what was left of the street. Soldiers firing until their rifles overheated. Machines pressing forward in clean formation, flanking like they were born to hunt. Their red sensors swept side to side, locking, learning, adapting. Every time a man fell, another machine shifted its pattern, precise, merciless.
"South quadrant compromised. East blocked. West: eighty-nine percent casualty," Nyxen's voice cut through the bunker like a blade. Hovering, its lenses whirred, panels unfolding as it mapped exits in real time. "Remaining option: north. Probability of survival: twenty-one percent. Increase probability by evacuating now."
Leon's head snapped up. "Twenty-one? That's it?"
Nyxen's lens swiveled to me. "Probability increases if the asset remains intact."
I tightened my grip on Sylvie, heat rising to my face. "She's not an asset. She's a child. She's my child."
Sylvie sobbed harder, burying her face into my shoulder.
The floor shook. Another blast closer, too close.
Nica didn't flinch. She had been standing at the hatch the entire time, listening, calculating. Without a word, she turned, wrapped her hands around the reinforced door, and tore it from the frame. Bolts snapped, steel shrieked, concrete cracked. In her hands, the slab of metal became a shield.
She looked at us once. "Move."
Gunfire crackled outside. The red glow of a drone swept the alley. I ran, clutching Sylvie so tight I felt her heartbeat hammering against mine. Leon rushed behind me, his eyes wide with the terror he refused to speak. Nyxen glided above, lighting the way with tactical precision.
"Left turn in three meters. Suppress sound. Stay low."
We obeyed. Nica pushed forward, the door shielding us from the bullets sparking against it. The alley spat fire. A machine lunged out from the side, taller than a man, its arm cannon humming as it locked onto us.
"Two o'clock, targeting lock," Nyxen warned.
The shot flared white. Nica angled the slab, the impact slamming into steel, the heat burning through the air. She staggered but held, then shoved the barrier into the machine itself. Its head cracked against the wall, sparks spitting as it collapsed.
Leon's voice cut through the chaos. "Car!"
Our sedan waited at the alley's edge like a half-forgotten relic.
We ran.
Bullets followed. I felt the air shear past my cheek. I dove into the backseat, Sylvie still in my arms. Her crying turned to choking sobs as I shielded her head. Nica slammed into the passenger seat, dragging the slab of metal inside, bracing it like armor. Nyxen zipped in last. Leon shoved the keys into the ignition, muttering prayers under his breath.
The engine roared.
The rear window exploded as bullets struck, shards raining in. The steel slab wedged behind us took the rest. Leon floored the pedal, and the car screamed forward through the burning streets.
Nyxen hovered inside, its voice cold, sharp, merciless. "Route plotted. Seventeen hostiles ahead. Recommend left detour. Warning: automated barricade south. Recalculating. Follow my signal."
"Then keep us alive," Leon hissed, hands white on the wheel.
We tore through streets drowned in firelight. Shadows of machines clung to rooftops, aiming down with mechanical precision. Bullets hissed against metal, sparks showering as Nica braced the shield across the window.
Minutes stretched like lifetimes.
Then the fuel gauge slammed empty.
The car coughed. Slowed. Died.
"No." Leon pounded the wheel, his voice breaking.
Silence fell. The city burned behind us, the horizon black with smoke. Sylvie whimpered against my chest, her small fists clinging to my shirt.
Nyxen's voice hummed again, softer this time. "Hostile presence minimal northward. Terrain density provides concealment. Forest perimeter one-eighty meters. Probability of survival: sixty-two percent."
"Better than twenty-one," I whispered, brushing Sylvie's damp hair from her face.
Nica shoved the door open, still carrying the steel slab like a weapon forged for her. "Then we move now."
We stepped into the silence, walking away from the ruins of home and into the shadows of the trees. The city behind us screamed. The drones above circled. The forest ahead waited.
And I realized, this wasn't the end. It was only the beginning of how the world would try to kill us.
----------
The forest swallowed us whole.
Dark trunks rose like blackened pillars, their branches clutched together so tightly the night pressed heavier, colder. Smoke from the burning city still lingered, drifting into the canopy, and each time Sylvie coughed against my chest my heart twisted until it nearly cracked.
Nyxen hovered in front of us, its lenses flicking wide. "Safe zone probability: seventy-two percent within radius. Recommendation: remain stationary for the night. Hostile signals minimal."
Nica turned in a slow circle, steel slab still strapped to her arm. Her eyes scanned every shadow, every shifting leaf. She was a wall of calm while my own breath came ragged.
We found a hollow where the ground dipped beneath a curve of stone and tree roots, sheltered enough to feel less exposed. My arms ached from carrying Sylvie, but I refused to let her down. She hadn't spoken a word since the car died, only small broken sobs against my chest.
Nica crouched low, her gaze fixed on Sylvie. "Child's heart rate accelerated. Respiration shallow. Signs consistent with trauma."
"She's three," I said, clutching her tighter. "Of course she's traumatized."
Nica's eyes flicked up, neutral as ever. "Acknowledged. Monitoring continues."
I pressed my cheek to Sylvie's hair, whispering into the tangle of curls. "Shh… it's okay, baby. Mommy's here. Daddy's here. We've got you." My words felt hollow against the memory of metal and gunfire, but they were all I had.
Leon sank down beside me, exhausted, his shirt still torn from when he shielded us in the alley. He fumbled at his pocket, pulling out something that clinked faintly.
An orb rolled into his hand, small, sleek, dull silver, and familiar.
Nyxen's lenses flickered toward it immediately. "Unit: Nyx-One. Leon Bond designation. Fully Functional."
Leon nodded, wiping soot from his face with the back of his hand. "I shoved it into my jacket when we ran. Didn't think, just grabbed it."
The orb pulsed weakly, as if waking. I remembered its hum from the bunker days, when it used to hover arpund Leon's shoulder all the time.
Nyxen extended a beam of faint blue light over it, scanning. "Calibration possible. Reassigning auxiliary function: aerial patrol. Task: detect perimeter anomalies. Relay to primary unit."
The orb vibrated, then lifted, hovering shakily at first before stabilizing. Its light blinked once, twice, then it shot upward through the trees like a firefly with purpose.
Nica's gaze tracked it until it vanished in the canopy. "Perimeter secured. Probability of ambush decreased."
For the first time in hours, I exhaled.
But the forest was colder than the city's ruins. The wind cut through my shirt, and Sylvie's body shivered in my arms. Her small teeth chattered against my collarbone.
"Warning," Nica said flatly, crouching again. Her hand brushed Sylvie's arm with eerie gentleness as if scanning a delicate object. "Child's temperature dropping. Risk of hypothermia."
Panic clawed up my throat. I pulled Sylvie tighter, tucking her inside my coat. "She's freezing....Leon, she's freezing."
"I know." His voice cracked as he moved closer, wrapping his arms around both of us. Together we tried to trap any scrap of heat between our bodies. "Stay with us, Syl. Just stay."
Her whimpers were soft now. Too soft.
"Nyxen...fire," I snapped.
The machine's panels shifted, a spark generator extending from its core. It angled downward, calculating the dry twigs and fallen leaves with brutal precision. Sparks spat, then ignited. Flame caught, flaring into a small but steady fire.
Warmth crawled over our faces. Sylvie stirred, her tiny hand twitching against my chest as the glow spread.
I bent low, whispering into her ear. "See that, baby? Fire. It's warm. You're safe."
Nica stayed crouched at the edge of the firelight, her steel shield grounded in the soil beside her, scanning outward with relentless focus. "Hostile detection: null. Vitals: stable, except child. Monitoring continues."
Nyxen hovered above the flames, light playing across its panels. "Nyx-One signal stable. Patrol radius extended to one kilometer. Perimeter clear."
Leon rubbed his hands against his jeans, staring into the flames. "We should take turns. One rests, two watch."
"You won't sleep," I said quietly, rocking Sylvie gently. "Neither will I."
"You need to," he muttered. His eyes were raw, hollow, full of guilt. "She needs you awake tomorrow, not burned out."
"I'm not closing my eyes," I whispered back. "Not when she still shakes like this."
Sylvie's soft voice broke through, muffled against me. "Mommy… make it stop…"
My heart tore in half. I kissed her damp forehead, swallowing the weight in my throat. "It will, sweetheart. It will. Mommy and Daddy won't let anything hurt you."
Nica's gaze flicked toward me. "False assurance. Probability of further encounters remains high."
"Then let me lie to her," I snapped. My voice cracked.
For a moment, silence. Then Nica gave a single nod, as if filing the command.
The night stretched long. Shadows twisted across the ground, branches groaned with the wind. Nyx-One blinked overhead like a second, distant star, circling with tireless precision.
Nyxen murmured occasional reports. "No movement within radius." "Temperature dropping by two degrees." "Child's heartbeat stabilizing." Its cold announcements became the rhythm of the night.
Leon pressed closer, his arm still around us, firelight carving deep lines into his face. "We'll make it," he whispered, not to me, not to anyone, but to himself.
I kept my arms locked around Sylvie, whispering lullabies that shook with every breath, staring into the fire until the first gray hint of dawn cut through the canopy.
We had survived the night. But it felt less like victory, and more like the world had simply forgotten to kill us yet.
---------
END OF PRELUDE