Kaai moved through the aisles with a restlessness that had nothing to do with hunger. His hands reached for survival more than sustenance — canned food, flour, rice — items that clattered dully into the cart, each one a small, desperate promise that tomorrow might still exist.
The stale air pressed heavy on his shoulders as he turned into the tools section. His movements quickened, almost frantic, as though motion alone could drown out the dread that hummed beneath his ribs. He searched for anything of use — not against the monsters outside, but against the one that walked beside him.
Hammers. Nails. Pliers. Toolboxes.
His fingers trailed over the cold metal, his reflection fractured across steel edges. None of it was enough. Against the towering beasts that hunted this land, a hammer was as useless as hope. But still, he gathered what he could, driven by an instinct older than reason — the need to do something, prepare for something, even if the preparation was futile.
The Ediron girl watched him all the while. Silent. Still. Her eyes followed his every motion, and though she made no move toward him, the weight of her gaze felt sharper than any blade. There was curiosity in it, yes — but beneath that, the cautious study of a creature unsure whether the thing before her was prey or threat.
Kaai's hand brushed against a crowbar. He gripped it, knuckles white, testing its weight — not because it would help, but because holding something solid reminded him he still existed.
They returned to their packs in silence. The air between them felt like thin glass, fragile and tense, ready to shatter with one wrong breath.
Kaai crouched beside his bag, methodically packing the rations. The simple act steadied his trembling thoughts. He kept only what was necessary and discarded the rest — not because he wanted to, but because every ounce of weight was another reason to die slower.
When his fingers brushed against a worn fold of paper, he froze.
The map.
Kaai unfolded it with shaking hands, his throat tightening as the inked lines came into focus — rivers, roads, places that no longer existed. The memories hit like echoes from a dream: campfires, arguments, laughter. People.
'Did… did Uncle Jo survive? What about Danny? Nour? Ryan, Olivia… Mother?'
His chest ached. He could almost hear their voices in the empty mall, laughter turned to whispers, hope turned to ghosts.
He shook his head. 'They aren't weak. None of them are. If I made it this far… so can they.'
His gaze drifted toward the map again. The military base. A destination drawn in shaking pen. Maybe his next lie. Maybe his only chance.
'For now, I need to find that base,' he whispered.
He could almost hear Uncle Jo's voice again calm, teasing, wise in that infuriating way of his:
"No one can survive alone, boy. Humans are social creatures — even the broken ones."
Kaai let out a bitter laugh, hollow and sharp in the still air. "Yeah, well… the broken ones are all that's left now."
He glanced at the girl. She sat quietly, her form haloed by the dull glow of her floating strands, rearranging her pack with precision and care that felt almost alien.
A faint smirk tugged at his lips.
'And a humanoid creature scouting me for dinner.'
He didn't know if he was joking
The Ediron girl sat cross-legged beside her pack, a quiet glow wrapping her like a second skin. She ate slowly, reverently. Each bite of fruit lit her face with small, fleeting expressions—surprise, delight, something close to peace. The faint hum of her aura resonated through the air, soft and melodic, like the sound of water over glass.
Kaai pretended not to notice. Every so often, though, her eyes flicked toward him between bites, as if checking whether he was real—or dangerous.
His stomach growled before he could look away. "Perfect," he muttered. "I am hungry….i need food"
He forced himself up and wandered toward what had once been the mall's kitchen corner — a place where food might have meant laughter once. He found pre-prepared meals sealed under plastic, untouched by time. The sight made his throat tighten. He tore one open, the smell of cooked meat and spice escaping like a ghost from another life.
He sat beside the girl as she ate.
She didn't rush. Every bite was followed by a pause, as if she were listening to it sing inside her. Her hair shimmered faintly, strands rising and falling in rhythm with each swallow.
Kaai watched, uneasy. Something about her calm made the ruined world feel even quieter.
He turned his focus to the map spread before him on the counter. "A week. Maybe two if we ration right." He traced a route with his finger, following the faded ink roads toward the base. "If she and I survived, others must've too. They have to be out there."
His voice was barely a whisper — half to himself, half to the ghosts that might still be listening.
He glanced at her again. She was still eating, eyes closed, as though she could taste sunlight through the fruit. For a moment, her hair dimmed from its faint blue shimmer to a calm silver glow. Her breathing slowed — steady, rhythmic, grounding. Then, without warning, she turned to him.
Kaai stiffened. The air between them felt too fragile to break with sound.
First, she touched her fingertips to the hollow just below her throat.
Then she drew a slow, straight line through the air toward him smooth, deliberate, precise.
Two motions. No words. No sound.
Kaai blinked, confusion flickering across his face. "Uh… what?"
She repeated the motion: touch, line. Her hair flickered faintly silver deepening toward blue then both hands clasped together in front of her chest. The air around her shimmered, the gesture graceful, almost ritualistic.
If Kaai had to guess, it wasn't a threat. It felt… careful. Gentle.
"Peace?" he murmured. "Or maybe… truce?"
The girl tilted her head, then crouched and scooped up a handful of small stones from the tile floor. Her hair glowed brighter as the pieces ground softly together under invisible pressure, reshaping in her grasp.
Two figures. Crude, but distinct. One smaller, one taller. Both standing side by side.
She placed them carefully between them like an offering.
Kaai's pulse spiked. His brain screamed trap, magic, trick. He scrambled a step back, hand darting toward the rifle at his side.
Her hair flared once — not in aggression, but alarm. She raised both hands quickly, shaking her head. Then she pointed to herself. Then to him. Then to the two figures
Kaai froze.
The pieces clicked — too slow, too human. His breath left him in a shaky exhale.
"…You mean us.", Pointing at himself and the girl.
Her hair dimmed to silver — calm, steady, unchanging.
For a moment, neither moved. Two strangers from broken worlds, framed by the glow of dying lights and the hum of a dead mall.
Kaai looked down at the little stone effigies, their shadows overlapping faintly in the dim light. He didn't smile, not really but
Something in Kaai's chest eased. He let out a slow breath and, without really thinking, extended his hand toward her a small, awkward gesture of acceptance, of peace.
But halfway there, his mind caught up.
She wouldn't understand it. A handshake meant nothing to her. Maybe worse than nothing an insult, a mistake. His fingers froze midair.
The silence between them grew thick again. Kaai's arm hung there a moment longer before he hesitated, retreating halfway, caught in that humiliating limbo between reaching out and pulling back.
And that was when the light changed.
The soft daylight bleeding in through the far windows blinked out, leaving behind a thin white hue that seemed to seep from nowhere and everywhere at once. It wasn't light — it was the memory of it. Cold. Pale. Unsettling.
Colors drained from the shelves and tiles. Even the air looked thinner, washed in silver like the world had forgotten how to breathe.
Kaai's pulse spiked, his skin sweating, his eyes constricting and his hands shaking as they are reaching for his rifle.
"…What the" he was cut as he saw shadows move in the distant windows
Then came the sound.
A scream distant, distorted, but unmistakably alive. From somewhere deep within the corridors. High, warping, too long to be human. It echoed off the tile and glass, splitting the stillness like a crack through bone.
Then another. And another. Too many. The echoes twisted together, ricocheting through the hollow corridors until it was impossible to tell where they came from, or what made them.
The Ediron girl had gone still, the color draining from her already-pale features. Her hair dimmed to white, each strand floating like it was weightless in the air. Slowly, with unnerving calm, she turned toward the far end of the mall toward the dark where the screams had begun.
Her hand went to her blade.
Steel whispered free of its sheath. The hum that followed wasn't just metallic — it was alive, resonating faintly with the broken light.
The shadows at the far end of the mall moved.
Something had noticed them.
And for the first time since they'd met, the girl looked almost human not calm, not cold, but afraid.