The wind was soft but heavy by now, whispering through the desert like a tired breath from something ancient.
The broken moon hung half-hidden behind a slow-moving cloud, bleeding its yellow light over the dunes.
Three shadows walked across the sand. Tom, Rosario, and Johan.
Each leaving their own crooked trail of footprints behind them.
"Feels strange," Rosario said quietly, "when everything goes quiet after the chaos."
Tom glanced at him. "Yes. We need to be cautious, chaos hasn't ended yet."
Johan nodded slightly. " People in this world never know what peace sounds like. When it comes, it feels…. unnatural, strange, uncomfortable."
Rosario kicked a small stone, watching it roll down a dune. His voice lowered, calm but with weight. "Peace is a luxury for those who don't remember hunger, or loss. I used to think surviving was enough. Now I'm not so sure."
Tom listened in silence. The air felt colder suddenly.
He spoke after a moment. "You know, when I was first spawned.… I used to think strength would solve everything. The more I fight, the more I feel like it just delays the pain, doesn't removes it. Every time I try to protect someone, it feels something else."
Johan looked at him, faintly smiling. "That's because you're human, Tom. The day fighting stops hurting you, that is the day you stop being worth a damn."
Rosario gave a small chuckle, but his eyes were serious. "He's right. You're a good kid, Tom. A bit lost, but your heart's in the right place. Don't let this world turn it into stone just like ours."
Tom looked ahead into the vast night. The horizon seemed endless, shimmering faintly like a mirage. "I don't plan to. Even if it's hard, someone has to try. Not me, then one of you."
They walked, breathing the cold air, their steps echoing faintly in the stillness.
Then Johan slowed down. "I think this is where I stop," he said.
Rosario and Tom turned.
Johan's expression was calm, almost peaceful. "I've had a great time with you both. More than I expected, honestly. Unfortunately, there are things I still need to settle. Give me others my farewell."
Tom frowned. "You're leaving? Just like that?"
Johan nodded. "Yeah. I've delayed it long enough. If I stay, I'll only drag you all into something that isn't your burden."
Rosario sighed softly. "Whatever it is…. just don't die over it."
A small smirk crossed Johan's face. "I don't plan to. Death and I have an understanding that we stay out of each other's way unless it's absolutely necessary."
Tom reached out his hand. Johan looked at it for a moment, then clasped it firmly. The grip was strong, but there was warmth in it.
"You'll be back, right?" Tom asked.
"Eventually," Johan said. "If fate allows. I had a break up with time and luck."
He stepped back, then raised his hand slightly, fingers tracing a sigil in the air. Flames burst out beneath his feet, shaping themselves into a long, slender vessel like a small boat, burning with calm, steady fire.
Rosario watched, impressed without making noise. The light from the flame painted his tired face in gold.
Johan climbed onto the boat and looked at them one last time. The fire reflected in his eyes, like twin suns flickering behind glass. "Take care of each other," he said. "Tom, don't stop questioning the world. It's what keeps people like us human."
The sand rippled as the flaming boat began to slide away, smooth as water. It left a thin trail of ember sparks that faded into the darkness.
Tom stood there, watching until the glow vanished beyond the dunes. Rosario put a hand on his shoulder. "He's the kind of man who walks into storms on purpose" he murmured. "but somehow, he always finds his way back."
Tom nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the empty horizon. "Yeah," he said quietly. "He will."
Inside the bunker, the air was calm and warm by a soft contrast to the desert chill outside. The faint sound of a kettle whistling somewhere in the kitchen blended with the quiet hum of oil lamps burning low.
Elior sat near a wooden table, sleeves rolled up, his fingers weaving thin strands of something glowing faintly green.
The material shimmered softly like northern lights in fabric form, warm to the eyes and gentle to the touch. Rosario and Tom entered, brushing sand off their clothes.
Rosario stretched his arms with a lazy yawn. "You've picked up knitting now? What's next, crocheting baby socks?"
Elior chuckled, not looking up. "It's not knitting. It's called Rhov weaving. This fiber carries warmth from one's soul when infused properly."
Tom tilted his head. "Never heard of it."
"That's because it grows only in the mines of Liberta Memorial," Elior said, pulling another thread through. "We used to make gloves and scarves out of it during the winter wars."
Rosario leaned closer, narrowing his eyes at the glowing threads. "Who is the lucky one getting this?"
Elior hesitated for half a second, his hands still working. "Grace. She caught a fever," he said softly.
Tom straightened a little. "Grace?"
"Yeah," Elior nodded, eyes focused on the Rhov scarf. "It came suddenly. Probably the climate shift or exhaustion. She'll be fine, but she needs rest. I'm making this to keep her warm through the night."
Rosario crossed his arms. "You're a good man, Elior. A bit weird, but good...still weird."
Elior smiled faintly. "Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment."
Tom glanced toward the corridor leading to the dorm rooms. "I'll check on her," he said.
"Go," Elior replied without looking up. "She might need company."
Tom nodded and left quietly, his footsteps recalled his gesture against the bunker's stone floor.
Grace's room was dim, the oil lamp flickering on the bedside table. She lay under a thick quilt, her face pale but calm. A faint sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead. The sound of the wind outside brushed against the bunker walls like soft waves.
Tom stepped closer, careful not to make noise. "Grace," he said softly.
Her eyes opened slightly. "Tom….?"
"Yeah, it's me." He knelt beside her, placing a hand lightly on her forehead. The heat startled him. "Your fever is still high."
Grace smiled weakly. "Guess the world's trying to cook me alive."
Tom smiled faintly. "You should talk less. Rest more."
She chuckled a little, then coughed. "I tried, but it's boring lying here alone."
Tom looked around for a moment, then reached into his coat pocket. "Here," he said, handing her something small and wooden.
Grace blinked and took it carefully. A small teddy bear, roughly carved but smooth around the edges. Its eyes were uneven, but it carried a strange warmth in its simplicity.
"You made this?" she asked, surprised.
"Yeah," Tom said, scratching his neck awkwardly. "When I was stuck in Carna Forest. Had nothing to do but wait, so I carved this from an old branch."
Grace held it close, smiling softly. "It's cute. A bit… ugly, but cute."
Tom smirked. "That's fair. My first teddy. Don't expect perfection."
Grace chuckled weakly again. "Still… it means a lot. Thank you."
Tom stood up, looking down at her. "Just get some rest, alright? Don't think too much. We'll handle everything outside."
Grace nodded, eyes already growing heavy. "You sound like an old man, you know that?"
Tom shrugged. "Then I'm doing something right."
She smiled faintly, holding the little wooden teddy close to her chest. "Goodnight, Tom."
Tom hesitated for a moment, watching her slowly drift toward sleep. "Goodnight, Grace."
He turned, quietly stepping out of the room. The lamp light dimmed behind him, leaving Grace's peaceful breathing as the only sound in the stillness.