The abandoned clinic had become their sanctuary for three days now, though "sanctuary" felt like too generous a word for the crumbling structure with its shattered windows and blood-stained floors. But it had a roof, four walls that mostly held, and a second floor that gave them a vantage point over the surrounding district.
Nana sat cross-legged on the rooftop, her iron pipe resting across her lap as she watched the chaos unfold below. Another gang fight had broken out near the collapsed pharmacy—seven men and women tearing into each other with makeshift weapons over what looked like a single can of food.
She'd seen this pattern repeat itself across every district they'd passed through. Avalon had always been brutal, but now it felt like the realm itself was tightening its grip, squeezing the life out of every human trapped within its borders. The eliminationwere one thing—the fire eagles, the floods, the poison gas. Those were predictable horrors.
But Starvation was different. It was slow. Patient. Cruel in a way that made people turn on each other with a desperation that chilled her more than any demon or hybrid ever could.
"There," Zayne's voice came from beside her, quiet and clinical. He pointed to a figure stumbling between two collapsed buildings. "Third one today."
Nana followed his gaze and felt her stomach clench. The person—she couldn't tell if it was a man or woman anymore—was little more than a walking skeleton, ribs visible through torn clothing. They swayed on their feet, took two more steps, then collapsed. White mist began rising from their body almost immediately.
The rebirth cycle. Another person who would wake up in this nightmare with no memories, no understanding of how to survive, and even less chance of making it through their first week.
"How many?" she asked, her voice rough.
"Since we've been watching?" Zayne's hazel eyes tracked another movement to their left. "Forty-three. That we've seen."
Forty-three people choosing death over another day of fighting. Or simply too weak to continue.
Nana's hand moved unconsciously to her backpack, feeling the weight of their remaining supplies. Two cans of mystery meat. One bottle of water, half-full. A handful of protein bars that tasted like cardboard mixed with disappointment.
Maybe four days' worth if they rationed carefully. Five if they pushed it.
Not enough. Nowhere near enough.
"District 23 is still eight districts away," she said, more to herself than to him. "We need to move faster, but..."
"But we need food first," Zayne finished. He was silent for a moment, his gaze distant. Then, so quietly she almost missed it: "I know where we can get some."
Nana turned to look at him. His face was mostly hidden by the black turtleneck pulled up over his nose and the hood shadowing his eyes, but she could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw tightened.
"Tao's tunnels," he said, and there was something complicated in his voice. Not quite regret, but close.
"Underground storage system beneath District 8. That's where they keep their supply cache—food, water, weapons, medical supplies. Everything they've hoarded while people up here starve."
"The same gang that's hunting you," Nana said flatly.
"The same."
"The gang you used to run with."
His eyes met hers, and she saw the flash of something there—recognition of the irony, maybe, or acknowledgment of the impossibility of their situation. "Yes."
"And you think we can just walk in there and take what we need?"
"No." A pause. "But I know the tunnels. I know their patrol patterns, their blind spots. And..." He looked away, his voice dropping even lower. "They're getting desperate. Weaker. I've been watching them from a distance. Half the numbers they had two weeks ago, and the ones left are barely standing. Tao's probably sending them out in smaller groups to conserve energy."
Nana absorbed this, running through scenarios in her mind. Every option felt like a death sentence, but then again, so did sitting here and waiting for starvation to claim them.
They sat in silence for a long moment, watching the sun begin its descent behind the shattered skyline of District 9. The blood-red light painted everything in shades of copper and rust, making the ruins look even more hellish than usual.
Then Zayne shifted, and his shoulder bumped against hers—firm, warm, deliberate.
Nana blinked, caught off guard by the sudden contact. She looked up at him and found the corner of his visible eyes crinkling slightly, like he was smiling beneath the turtleneck.
The warm bloomed in her chest, pushing back against the cold despair that had been settling there. She bumped him back, harder, and was rewarded with a soft huff of surprise.
"So," Zayne said, and there was something lighter in his tone now, something that made her heart squeeze. "Tell me where you're from. You look like someone who could fight monsters and demons in your sleep."
Nana felt herself smile despite everything. Despite the bodies below. Despite the empty ache in her stomach. Despite the impossible distance to District 23 and the blood moon that felt both too far away and too close at the same time.
She reached into her backpack, fingers closing around the familiar weight of her hunter badge. She'd kept it through everything—through Mina's death, through the flood that killed Jisu, through every moment she'd wanted to give up and let the realm swallow her whole.
Not to show off. Not really.
But to remind herself that she'd had a life before this. That she'd been someone who protected people, who fought to keep the world safe. That she could be that person again if she just held on long enough.
She pulled the badge out, the metal catching the dying light.
CLASS S HUNTER—HUNTER ASSOCIATION—LINKON CITY.
Zayne stared at it for a long moment, then looked at her with something like wonder in his eyes. "You're a hunter?"
"Yes " Nana's voice was soft, almost wistful. "I'm a hunter in Linkon City. Back then, my life was simple—hunt Wanderers, protect people, try not to get killed by anything with too many teeth." She laughed, but it came out hollow. "Simpler times."
Zayne's gaze moved from the badge to her face, studying her with that intense, clinical focus that made her feel simultaneously exposed and safe. His eyes traced her features—the exhaustion etched into her expression, the determination that kept her spine straight even when she was running on empty, the way her small hands gripped the badge like a lifeline.
She was small. Smaller than anyone should be and still survive in this hellscape. But she'd fought demons and hybrids and humans with equal ferocity. Had protected him multiple times despite barely knowing him in this life. Had refused to leave him behind even when he'd told her to run.
Small but so strong.
Terrible combination.
"I've had a dream," Zayne said suddenly, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "For as long as I can remember. Since I woke up here."
Nana's breath caught. She turned to face him fully, her dark eyes wide and searching.
"In my dream, there's a hunter," he continued, his voice rough with something he couldn't name. "Someone who protects me from danger. I never see their face clearly, but I know they're there. Always there, stepping between me and whatever's trying to kill me."
He paused, his throat tight. "I didn't know that the hunter in my dream was the same person who keeps trying to protect me now."
The world seemed to narrow to just the two of them—the distant sounds of fighting, the soft whisper of wind through broken buildings, all of it fading into nothing.
Nana breath hitched. Her eyes were shining now, tears gathering at the corners as understanding crashed over her like a wave.
He was remembering. Not everything—not yet—but fragments. Pieces of their life before, bleeding through the amnesia like light through cracks in a wall.
The hunter who protected him. That wasn't a dream.
That was her.
Every time Zayne had volunteered to treat injured hunters in the middle of active missions, she'd been there.
Every time he'd put himself in danger because he couldn't stand by while someone needed help, she'd stepped in. Shield raised, weapons ready, aether core blazing blue as she carved through Wanderers to keep him safe.
He thought they were dreams. All those moments when death should have claimed him but didn't. When claws came too close and somehow missed. When explosions went off and he'd wake up unharmed with only vague impressions of someone pulling him clear.
He'd thought they were dreams.
But they were memories. Real, precious memories that his soul had held onto even when his mind couldn't.
Zayne's hand moved slowly, carefully, as if she might bolt if he moved too fast. His warm fingers found her chin, tilting her face up until their eyes met. The turtleneck had slipped down slightly, and she could see his mouth now—the soft, sad smile that made her heart crack open.
"So, Miss Hunter," he said, and his voice was gentle, teasing, devastating all at once.
"Do you want to sleep under my protection?"
Nana didn't know if she should laugh or cry or both. The words were so simple, so impossibly sweet, and they cut straight through every defense she'd built around her heart.
The hunter who protects him. That's what he'd said. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like his soul recognized her role in his life even when his mind couldn't quite grasp it.
But now he wanted to protect her. Wanted to give back what she'd given him across lifetimes and rebirths and the impossible hell of Avalon.
Tears spilled down her cheeks, hot and fast. She wiped at them furiously, angry at herself for crying, grateful for the release, overwhelmed by everything she'd been holding back since the moment she found him again.
She moved forward and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face against his chest.
Zayne froze. Went completely still like a statue, his body rigid with surprise. His arms hovered awkwardly at his sides, uncertain what to do, how to respond to this sudden intimacy.
But then something shifted. Some instinct deeper than memory, older than thought. His arms came down slowly, wrapping around her smaller frame and pulling her close. Careful. Gentle. Like she was something precious that might break if he held too tight.
Nana felt him relax incrementally, felt the tension bleed out of his muscles as he adjusted to the weight of her against him.
One of his hands came up to rest against her hair, fingers threading through the long strands that she'd cut once and watched grow back when she returned to the real world.
"I've got you," he murmured, and the words rumbled through his chest. "I've got you, Nana."
She pressed closer, her tears soaking into his shirt, her hands fisting in the fabric. In this moment, she didn't care about the starvation happening below them. Didn't care about Tao's gang or the impossible journey to District 23 or the blood moon that might be their only chance at escape.
Right now, all that mattered was this: Zayne's arms around her. His heart beating steady beneath her ear. The way he held her like she was worth protecting, worth saving, worth everything.
"You're remembering," she whispered against his chest. "Pieces of it. You're starting to remember."
"Maybe," he said quietly. "Or maybe my soul just knows you. Knows that you're important. That you're..." He trailed off, struggling for words. "Mine to protect. The way you've protected me."
She pulled back just enough to look up at him, and what she saw in his hazel eyes made her breath catch. There was confusion there, yes—he didn't understand these feelings, didn't have the memories to contextualize the fierce protectiveness and strange familiarity he felt when he looked at her.
But there was also certainty. A bone-deep knowing that transcended memory and logic.
"We're going to make it," she said, and she wasn't sure if she was trying to convince him or herself. "We're going to get to District 23. We're going to reach the Wish Bridge when the blood moon rises. And we're both going to walk through that portal together."
His hand moved to cup her face, his thumb brushing away the tear tracks on her cheek. "Together," he agreed. "I don't know why, but the thought of being separated from you..."
He shook his head. "It feels wrong. Like losing something I can't afford to lose."
Because you already lost me once, Nana thought. You already sacrificed yourself to save me. And I'll be damned if I let that happen again.
But she didn't say that. Instead, she leaned into his touch and let herself have this moment. Let herself believe, just for a little while, that they might actually survive this.
The sun finished setting, plunging the district into darkness broken only by scattered fires and the distant glow of the blood-red sky that never fully went black. Below them, the sounds of fighting had died down, replaced by the eerie quiet of exhausted survivors trying to make it through another night.
"We should sleep," Zayne said eventually. "Take turns keeping watch. If we're going to hit Tao's tunnels tomorrow, we need to be sharp."
Nana nodded, reluctantly pulling away from his warmth. "You sleep first. I'll wake you in four hours."
"Nana—"
"Don't argue with your hunter," she said, and there was a hint of her old sass creeping back into her voice. "I outrank you. Probably."
His eyes crinkled again—that almost-smile that made her heart do stupid things.
"Is that so?"
"Class S hunter," she said primly, tapping her badge. "Very important. Very capable. Definitely doesn't need a former gang member telling her what to do."
"Former gang member who knows where the food is," he pointed out.
"fine. You can have some authority. A little bit."
They settled into position—Zayne stretched
out on one of the less-destroyed sections of the roof, using his pack as a pillow, while Nana took up her watch position near the edge where she could see the approaches to their building.
But before Zayne closed his eyes, he reached out and caught her hand. His fingers interlaced with hers, and he gave her a gentle squeeze.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "For protecting me. In dreams and in reality."
Nana squeezed back, her throat too tight for words.
Then Zayne's breathing evened out, his body relaxing into sleep while his hand stayed linked with hers.
Nana sat there in the darkness, keeping watch over the man she loved across lifetimes, and let herself hope—just a little—that this time, they'd both make it home.
.
.
.
.
.
To be continued.