POV: JaredThey did not plan to find it.The day started quiet. The kind of quiet that felt earned. Emma walked beside him with her sleeves rolled up, hair tied back with a strip of cloth they had torn from an old shirt. She looked more real like this. Less like a memory trying to keep its shape.They followed the land as it gently sloped upward. Grass thinned beneath their feet. The wind softened, like it was losing interest.Jared noticed it first in the sound.His steps stopped echoing.Not abruptly. Just less. Like the world had started swallowing noise instead of carrying it. He stomped once, harder than necessary. The sound barely reached him.“You hear that?” he asked.Emma frowned. “Hear what?”“That’s the problem.”They kept going.The sky ahead looked normal, but the colors were wrong when he really focused. Blue dulled into something flatter. Clouds lost their edges. It reminded him of a low resolution image stretched too far.Emma slowed.She pressed two fingers to her tem

POV: Jared By the time the light starts to tilt, Jared realizes they have been walking in loose circles. Not lost. Just not going anywhere on purpose. The world here does not rush them. Shadows stretch slowly. The air cools without warning. When the sun lowers, it does not feel like a threat, but it does feel like a question. He stops near a cluster of trees and looks around. “This is as good as anywhere,” he says. Emma nods. She looks tired in a way that has nothing to do with weakness. More like she is learning how to exist inside a body again. She lowers herself onto a rock and watches him. “So,” she says lightly. “What’s the plan?” Jared stares at the trees. He has led evacuations. Built fortresses underground. Optimized supply chains while cities burned. But right now, all he sees is wood and uneven ground and the fact that night is coming whether he is ready or not. “We build something,” he says. She raises an eyebrow. “Something permanent?” He lets out a

POV: JaredJared notices it in the pauses.Emma still walks beside him. Still listens. Still answers when he speaks. But the spaces between her words have grown careful, like she is choosing where not to step.She laughs less. When she does, it comes late, like an echo that almost didn’t bother returning.That night, the fire burns low. Not dying. Just contained. Jared feeds it small sticks, one at a time, watching the way the flames respond immediately now. No correction. No delay. Cause and effect, clean and honest.Emma sits across from him, knees pulled in, arms looped loosely around them. She is staring into the fire but not really seeing it.He does not say her name at first.He waits.The waiting stretches. Too long.“Okay,” he says finally, keeping his voice light on purpose. “You’ve been doing that thing.”She blinks. “What thing?”“The quiet one,” he replies. “The one where you think if you don’t move too much, the world won’t notice you’re there.”Her mouth curves slightly.

POV: JaredJared does not tell Emma where he is going.Not because he wants to hide it from her, but because he knows she would come if he asked. And this is something he needs to face without her steadying the ground beneath his feet.The imprint waits where she found it.It does not look dangerous. That is its trick.The place feels quieter than the rest of the world, like sound itself is holding its breath. The air has a faint pressure to it, the kind you feel before rain, before something gives way. The ground here does not quite commit to being solid. It remembers something else.Jared steps closer.The imprint stirs.It recognizes him immediately.Not with words. With knowing.The world tilts, gently, and then the visions begin.Not explosions. Not triumph. No glory.Relief.He sees Emma sitting beside the river, whole in a way that makes his chest ache. Her breath steady. Her gaze clear. No pauses. No flickers. No fear hiding behind her eyes. She laughs without checking herself

POV: JaredEmma woke slowly.Not with a gasp or panic. Just a shallow breath, then another, like she was checking whether breathing still worked before committing to it.Jared noticed immediately.He always did.She sat up with care, one hand pressed flat against the ground, fingers splayed as if balance had become something she needed to negotiate. Her movements were precise in a way that felt wrong. Too measured. Too aware.“You’re awake,” he said.She nodded, but the motion seemed to take effort. Her hair fell forward and she did not brush it back right away. When she finally did, her hand hesitated halfway, then continued, like she had to remember how.Jared’s stomach tightened.“How do you feel?” he asked.Emma looked around first. The shelter. The trees. The sky, calmer now, stretched pale and quiet above them. Only then did she answer.“Lighter,” she said. “Not in a good way.”He sat up fully. His body ached from staying awake, but the ache barely registered. He studied her fac