The quiet of the house was deceptive. Ayin slept peacefully in her room, unaware of the shadows still lingering beyond the walls, but Ash couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that had settled over her since they arrived home. She paced slowly, her eyes scanning the familiar yet unfamiliar space, noting small details—the flicker of a security feed, a faint hum from a nearby circuit board, a shadow that moved too deliberately in the corner of her vision.
Haru sat at the edge of the sofa, reviewing the makeshift map of their surroundings on his tablet. "You're tense," he said without looking up, his voice calm but observant.
Ash stopped pacing and exhaled sharply. "I'm not tense." Her voice was tight. "I just… something feels off. Even with Seraph's main network down, I keep thinking there's something watching us."
Haru finally lifted his gaze, his sharp eyes meeting hers. "You've got instincts for a reason. What did you see?"
"A shadow outside the east window. And the security feed flickered for a second—like it was tampered with. Nothing concrete, but…" Her words trailed, the unease in her chest growing.
Haru's jaw tightened. "Could be a glitch."
Ash shook her head. "No. Glitches don't move deliberately." She stepped closer to him. "Someone—or something—is out there. I can feel it. Watching. Waiting."
Haru rose, moving to stand beside her, his presence grounding. "Then we'll make sure they don't get in. Ayin is safe here, and that's what matters. But we can't ignore this."
Ash nodded, relief and worry mixing together. "I can't let her see this. Not yet. She's fragile, and she deserves these first days of peace."
Haru reached out, brushing a hand over hers. "Then we handle it quietly. We sweep the house, check the perimeter, and patch anything that looks suspicious. No surprises. No unnecessary risk."
Together, they moved through the house, methodically inspecting each room. Ash's eyes were sharp, scanning for anything unusual, while Haru worked the tablet, tracing the security feed logs. Subtle anomalies appeared—timestamps that didn't match, a brief spike in signal on the back camera, the faint impression of movement near the garden wall.
"See that?" Ash pointed at the distorted feed.
Haru squinted. "Someone's been here recently. Could be a scout—or worse. A sleeper agent."
Ash swallowed, the weight of responsibility pressing on her chest. "Then we need to know everything. Before they act."
Haru nodded, his fingers brushing over hers again, grounding her. "We will. We've survived worse. And we've done it together."
They spent the next hour inspecting the perimeter, reinforcing locks, and recalibrating cameras. Every shadow seemed too long, every rustle in the trees too deliberate. And though Ayin slept peacefully, Ash's mind was alive with possibilities, planning contingencies for every scenario she could imagine.
Finally, Ash leaned against the doorframe, taking a moment to breathe. "It feels like the fight isn't over, even here. Even now."
Haru stepped closer, lowering his voice. "It isn't. But we're ready. We've survived the labyrinth, the Mother Machine… we can survive this."
Ash gave a small, humorless laugh. "Easy to say when you're calm."
Haru's lips quirked in a faint smile. "Easy to say when you know we'll face it together."
The room fell quiet, save for the soft hum of the electronics. Then Ash's sharp eyes caught it again—a flicker outside the kitchen window, just beyond the edge of the garden. A shadow moved, deliberate, unseen by the cameras.
Ash's pulse quickened. "They're close."
Haru's expression hardened. "Then we make sure they don't cross the line. Not here. Not now."
For a long moment, they stood side by side, silent but alert, guardians of the home that had become their sanctuary. Outside, the shadows stretched long, but inside, the bond between them held fast, unshaken by fear or doubt.
And somewhere, beyond the house, a faint mechanical whisper carried in the night air—a signal unnoticed by anyone but Ash's instincts. A warning that the remnants of Seraph were not yet done.