They left the ridge as the smoke settled, walking until the sun dipped low behind the hills. The relay tower had collapsed into silence, but its echo lingered — the faint hum of transmission still threading through the air, like a pulse refusing to die.By dusk, they reached a stretch of road leading inland. Cracked asphalt ran between empty fields, scattered with the wreckage of what had once been military convoys. The Foundation’s insignia was still faintly visible on the vehicles — a hollow circle marked with three intersecting lines. It looked meaningless now.Grey stopped beside a truck half-buried in vines and brushed dirt from the door. “They used this route to move equipment from the observatory. Whatever was left, they didn’t take far.”Lana leaned against the rusted frame, exhaustion creeping in. Her hands were blistered from the climb, her throat dry. “Do you think anyone’s still following us?”“Not yet,” he said. “But they will. When the higher branches realize what’s been

The wind chased them inland, tearing through the cliffs as the storm built behind them. The sky had dimmed to iron, the sea vanishing into the distance like a smothered thought.Lana pulled her coat tight and kept her pace beside Grey. Neither had spoken since leaving the tower. The sound of Seraphine’s voice — you were the insurance, the memory I refused to let them erase — still lived somewhere between them, too loud to ignore, too fragile to name.They reached the dirt road just as the first crack of thunder rolled across the horizon. A small, forgotten sign leaned half-buried in the grass: Haven 9 – Restricted Access.Lana stopped. “It’s real.”Grey followed her gaze. The letters were barely legible beneath the rust. “Then this is where she meant us to go.”They moved quickly, following the road into the valley. The air thickened with the smell of rain and soil, the kind that warned of flood. Every few minutes, Grey glanced behind them — the habit of a man who no longer believed i

The morning came gray and hollow, as if the world itself had emptied overnight. Mist clung to the edges of the ruined valley, and the rain had finally stopped, leaving behind only the slow dripping of water from fractured stone.Lana sat by the remnants of a wall, the book cradled in her lap. Inheritance. The word seemed heavier now that it was hers to hold. Grey crouched nearby, cleaning the mud from his weapon in silence. Neither of them had spoken since the collapse. The air between them was thick with what they hadn’t said.She ran her fingers over the embossed title. Beneath the grime and torn leather, she could feel faint grooves—writing pressed by hand, deliberate, careful. “It’s not just a ledger,” she murmured. “It’s a manifesto.”Grey didn’t look up. “Then let’s see what they died to hide.”She hesitated, then opened it.The pages were brittle, the ink faded but legible. At the top of the first page, written in Seraphine’s unmistakable script, were the words:For those who c

The rain didn’t stop. It came down in thin, silvery threads that blurred the road ahead into watercolor shades of gray. By the time they reached the outer ridge of Riven Vale, both Lana and Grey were drenched through, their coats clinging to them like second skins.The valley itself looked wrong — not ruined, but forgotten. The buildings stood intact, roofs unbroken, windows still in place, yet there was no sound. No birds, no wind, no human breath. Even the rain seemed quieter here, absorbed by the silence.Grey exhaled slowly. “I thought this place was supposed to be destroyed.”Lana scanned the empty streets. “Maybe it was. Just not the way we imagined.”They entered through what had once been a checkpoint. Rusted gates leaned sideways, their hinges slick with moss. Beyond them, the road sloped down toward a cluster of structures — not houses, not factories, but something in between. Each one identical, square and gray, each door marked with a number.Lana brushed her hand over the

For a heartbeat, no one moved.The ticking filled the house — sharp, mechanical, deliberate. It wasn’t loud, but it carried the kind of weight that freezes blood. Grey’s hand went instinctively to his weapon. Lana’s eyes darted to the corner where the sound came from: a metal case on a wooden stool, half-hidden by shadows.“Don’t,” Elias said evenly. “You’ll only make it worse.”“Tell me what that is,” Grey demanded.“A guarantee,” Elias replied. “That no one leaves here with half the truth.”Lana stepped forward, keeping her voice low and steady. “You planted a bomb in your own refuge?”He gave a soft laugh. “You think I’d trust anyone to let me speak freely? Even you, Grey, have your father’s silence in your blood.”Grey’s jaw flexed. “Don’t talk about him.”Elias’s gaze flicked to the ledger on the table. “Then talk about this instead. The last record. The one Seraphine tried to destroy but couldn’t.”Lana’s eyes settled on the ledger. It wasn’t new; the leather was cracked and fla