Silence. Not the kind that came in moments of peace, but the kind that followed devastation. A silence so complete it rang in Gibson’s ears like the echo of a scream too loud to be heard.He opened his eyes to white. Not light, white. The abyss was gone. The firestorm erased. The endless roar silenced. He lay on scorched stone, half-buried beneath jagged rubble, his body twisted in ways bone and muscle weren’t meant to endure. Blood clung to his lips, thick and coppery, and each breath was a war. But he didn’t care about the pain. He didn’t care about the ruin. “Clara…” The name scraped out of him as a whisper, hoarse, desperate.He pushed the stone from his chest, dragging his body across the fractured ground. His arms trembled under his own weight, but he crawled forward inch by inch.Each scrape of his knee sent fire up his spine, but he didn’t stop. Not until he saw her. She lay ten paces away, still as death, her small form curled against the stone.Around her, the ground was