The spilling light from above washed over her.
That was what she saw.
But not what she felt.
'Y▓▓░ h░ve ▒ ▓a░s ░n yo▓r b▒a▓n...'
The words sank somewhere behind her eyes. When they rose in front of her again, they had stopped being language all together and became something she could touch.
Something she had to touch.
The broken letters crystallized into a rough, crumpled mass. It folded in on itself before stretching into the outline of a figure—sketched and paused in time like a statue.
Darkness stretched around her, vast and bottomless like Terra beneath its moons. Their pale light spilled over everything, drowning the world in silver. The ground under her feet looked slick and heavy, like blood left to stain.
Huffing.
Pushing.
Her arms strained as she bent over one of the shapes and forced it upward.
It resisted with dead weight.
Its sketched body shivered in her grasp while the center of it pulsed around a warped heart.
Cecilia pushed until the figure lifted clear of the ground, and until its shaking stopped. The body remained suspended where she left it, fixed beneath the silver light.
Again.
And again.
More figures hung above the ground.
With each effort, another figure rose and became still. Soon, more of them hung above the ground around her.
Some were headless stumps, their necks frayed open like torn paper.
Some were split down the middle, their halves barely clinging together by strings of blackened matter.
Others had collapsed inward, sagging into themselves as something sick seeped from within.
And across every one of them—painted into them, pressed over them in inky strokes—were her own thoughts.
One second she was still there, standing in the oppressive silver light.
The next, her body folded inward like something had cut the strings holding her up.
She lurched sideways, trying to catch herself.
Her arm punched straight through the ground.
"—"
Her cheek struck the surface with a dull thunk.
Her half-lidded eyes dragged across it, exhaustion hanging from them so heavy it felt like a wet cloth had been thrown over her face.
She fell through without a sound.
shhhhhrrr—FWSSSHHH—!
It swallowed her in an instant, closing over her head with a heavy rush. Cold struck every inch of her at once, dragging at her clothes, her hair, her limbs. Bubbles tore from her mouth and rushed past her face while the dark pulled her deeper.
Up.
Something pierced the black above her.
A massive pale hand.
It tore through the ocean of her thoughts.
The shadow it cast swallowed her whole, wide enough to eclipse everything beneath it.
Closer.
And closer still.
The hand reached for her.
Relief loosened Cecilia's face. She leaned into its touch before it ever reached her.
Warmth gathered around her fingers as the ocean's surface leveled out, and her back curved against something soft beneath her.
"What's wrong?"
Ikade's voice came out gentle, her hands closing around Cecilia's trembling ones.
Cecilia pulled her closer and held on like she might vanish into the sky. Her face pressed into Ikade's chest, breathing in her warmth.
"Aren't you a little clingy today?"
"Mhmm."
They shifted onto one side, and Ikade patted Cecilia's back with gentle hands. The minutes passed like that, slow and quiet, until her breathing finally evened out. Her eyes drooped, and for a moment, she felt like she could sleep the whole day away.
"Don't tell me you're falling asleep again."
Ikade's voice teased above her, fingers playing with the tufts on Cecilia's head.
"Just a couple more minutes..."
Cecilia answered, her voice muffled by the soft pillow.
"—!"
She jolted upright and hit the headboard with force, one hand flying to her reddened ear as she huffed like a startled cat.
"Why would you do that?! You can't just blow in my ear like that!"
Her canines showed, and her tufts puffed back in pure offense. Ikade, however, was anything but sorry, covering her mouth with one hand.
"Haha—sorry. But it's past ten already, so…"
Cecilia took a second to steady herself before crawling off the bed and slipping into her slippers.
She walked to the closet, pulled the doors open and sifted through the drawers until she found a worn workout outfit. Tucking it beneath one arm, she shuffled into the bathroom.
A few minutes passed behind the closed door—the faucet running, a toothbrush tapping against the sink and water splashing across her face.
Cecilia returned in her workout clothes and sat on the edge of the bed to pull out her running shoes.
After tying her shpes, she reached toward the medicine near the headboard.
"You're not going to eat first?"
Cecilia looked at their hands, then at Ikade.
"After the workout."
"I'll take them after I eat."
Cecilia left the medicine where it was, stood and pressed each toe cap against the floor twice while her eyes swept across the messy bedroom.
"Hah..."
She snapped her fingers, and the room straightened itself all at once.
Clothes scattered across the floor lifted into the laundry basket. The pillow puffed back into shape. A hair tie rolled out from beneath the desk and bumped against her foot.
Cecilia bent down, picked it up, and tied her hair back while the rest finished on its own.
Not long after, she left the room and took the first staircase beside the pantry. Three short flights brought her into their gym.
Tilting her head back, she cupped one hand beneath her mouth like a bowl.
I really shouldn't keep doing this.
Water pooled into her palm and poured into her mouth.
She swallowed the cool liquid, then exhaled through her nose in quiet satisfaction after several long seconds, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Since I just got back, I think I've earned a little slack."
She nodded to herself, then started stretching, folding her body into one shape after another until the stiffness slowly gave way and she felt a few centimeters taller for it.
Once she finished, Cecilia stepped onto the treadmill tucked against the wall, tapped through the controls, and waited for the belt to gather speed. It rolled forward little by little until she found her rhythm.
"Gulp…haa~"
Another breath left her, the last cool droplets slipping from her hand while her chest rose and fell with the run. Her legs complained at being forced into more effort than they wanted.
She stretched again after stepping off, working the stubborn tightness out before it could settle in for good.
She did not linger after that.
Cecilia headed straight back to her room and made a beeline for the bathroom. She pushed the door open, then glanced back toward the closet, nearly forgetting her clothes.
The closet doors flew open.
A bundle of clothes shot toward her, the hinges creaking with the force.
She caught them midair, shut the bathroom door behind her, and turned on the shower.
Another thirty minutes passed.
When Cecilia stepped out again, she was drying her hair, rubbing vigorously at her feathers to chase away the last traces of dampness. The shower had loosened what the treadmill could not, leaving her legs warm and pleasantly heavy.
The medicine had been moved beside a glass of water and a few crackers.
Cecilia glanced toward the empty doorway, finished the crackers, washed them down with water and only then took the medicine.
The towel landed in a lazy heap over the bedframe.
She took brisk strides toward the kitchen, cutting straight through the pantry, only to find the room empty except for a sticky note left on the counter.
'I went out to see a few friends, I left you a snack in the fridge. Care, Kae.'
She shrugged and crumpled the note, tossing it into the bin before turning toward the fridge.
The first one was packed with drinks. Rows of water. Alcohol. Every brand in between.
She opened the second one on the right instead.
Her eyes landed on a clear container marked with another sticky note. She ignored the message completely, grabbed the little treat, and downed it in record time.
step step step.
She headed toward her bedroom, then stopped.
Her gaze passed through the short hallway ahead of her. On the other side sat that small, safe place.
"Actually..."
She dropped into a beanbag in the small lounge beside the garage door instead. Two walls were lined with shelves packed tight with books of every kind. A laptop rested on the sleek desk nearby. She slipped off her slippers and traded them for a pair of comfortable red shoes.
The second she settled in, the gate rang.
A screen flickered into the upper-right corner of her vision. Cecilia lifted her left wrist and spoke through the bracelet.
"What is it?"
Her voice passed through the gate speaker.
The delivery boy glanced around before finding the camera and leaning closer.
"Uh—delivery for Cecilia?"
Something clicked in her mind, and her response came out with a faint chirp.
"I'll be out in a bit!"
The screen faded the second he opened his mouth again.
I'll just cut through the garage.
The garage gate barely lifted two feet off the ground before she slipped under it and jogged toward the gate. By the time she got there, her breathing had picked up just enough to feel it in her chest.
The delivery boy was still standing there, a small sealed box tucked under one arm.
His apple bobbed the second he saw her coming. He cleared his throat into his hand, then started talking again.
They exchanged a few short words and Cecilia signed the form without much thought.
The back of her head thumped.
At the same time, the box lifted neatly from his hands and floated onto her property.
The delivery boy's hands remained raised for a second after the box left them. His gaze followed the box across the gate, then returned to Cecilia.
Nice.
Cecilia turned right back around and headed for the half-open garage, the box following after her. She ducked beneath the door, then sent it sliding shut with a lazy wave of her hand.
She nudged the mess in front of the far wall aside with her foot and pressed one side of the panel inward.
Chk.
The side beneath her palm sank into the wall while the opposite edge pushed out toward her. Cecilia wedged her fingers and pulled the entire panel left, stopping once there was enough room to squeeze through.
She reached inside and flicked on the lights. The box floated in after her and Cecilia slipped through before pulling the panel closed again.
Her steps were light, almost blissful, while she crossed into her shop.
The box settled onto the workstation with a soft thud. She peeled the seal open and checked inside—medicine, drops, gauze, a few sealed packets and the extra supplies Manuel had thrown in.
For once, nothing looked wrong.
She nudged the box aside and moved closer to the apparatus resting there, checking yesterday's leaking fitting. No green fluid seeped out this time, so she left it alone.
Her gaze shifted to the right, landing on the other dismantled bits lying around.
I won't be needing this anymore...not after this. Once we get back, I think I'll have gotten rid of most of these.
Her eyes lingered for another second.
"Actually...I could just sell these on the way there."
Then she paused.
For a while, she just stood there, thinking.
Her gaze drifted around the room, then toward the gear scattered nearby while her fingers combed through her hair.
"Oh yeah, sure—keep everything you never use. It's not like you've moved in two years or anything."
Cecilia groaned.
The thought alone made her head thump.
Her feet carried her around the room, nearly tripping over the random junk littering the floor while she started sorting through everything she had managed to collect over the years.
"This isn't even mine...so I can sell this too. And this...not this."
She grabbed her rifle from the back wall and secured it inside the container attached to the driver. Then she stepped back, yawned, and dropped into her seat.
She leaned into the headrest and stretched her legs out. Her gaze drifted right, then left.
For a minute, she stared at the ceiling and let her mind wander.
After the short break, she got back to work, fiddling around until boredom caught up with her again.
Before long, Cecilia left the garage and headed for her bedroom.
She changed into a bulky faded-black jacket, a gray hoodie barely visible beneath it, along with a white cap and white sneakers. The band-aids were already back on like clockwork and her necklace still hung around her neck.
She lingered by the mirror for a moment, checking herself over.
Her reflection stared back with that same familiar mix of weariness and distance. Cecilia adjusted her cap until it sat right, her tufts peeking out from beneath it.
Her thoughts drifted as she crossed the house and stepped out the front door.
Her One Fifty Five was still parked out front, slick with last night's condensation.
Cecilia unlocked it and slid inside. The seat gave beneath her with a soft creak, and for a moment she just sat there, hands resting against the wheel.
Then the engine cranked to life.
She eased the car away from the curb, rolled past the gate, and slipped onto the street.
Time passed in quiet pockets until she was cruising along the highway, heading halfway across the city to where her loved ones rested.
Along the way, Cecilia stopped at a small flower shop and picked out two marigolds. She paid the woman at the counter, tucked the flowers carefully beside her and headed back out.
Cars flowed around her in steady currents while buildings slipped past.
The wind tugged at loose strands of her hair. The city moved around her, bright and restless, but inside the car, everything felt muted.
She kept driving until she reached a quieter stretch, pulling into a subdued part of town where the noise faded into a distant hum.
Cecilia stepped out and shut the door with a solid thunk.
With the flowers in hand, she climbed a short run of concrete stairs, her eyes drifting to the bronze lettering set into the stone wall.
A narrow pond wrapped around the structure, its water cold and still.
'Communal Crematorium 27'
It was quiet even today.
A quiet sadness hung over the place, clinging to the stone, the water, the people still bent beneath their grief.
Cecilia only gave them a passing glance as she walked.
I used to look like that too...it just feels like visiting someone who's always sick.
Maybe back then, everyone had their own grave. Their own stone.
Now they just stuff us into metal shelves and call it a day. Box after box, row after row, crammed in on both sides, and somehow they still charge a few grand for it.
"What utter bullshit."
A few people glanced her way before looking off again.
Her expression dipped just a little.
Her ears caught fragments of nearby conversations—soft voices speaking to loved ones, others edged with anger. She kept walking, breathing quietly while her gaze wandered over the handful of trees and patches of grass trying to soften the otherwise cold place.
When she reached her quiet spot, her breath did not hitch.
Not even a faint ache stirred in her chest.
V.J.
Cecilia closed her eyes and dug through old memories, trying to drag their faces back into focus.
But...no.
No matter how hard she scrunched her face, nothing came.
Only a blurred mess sat where their faces should have been, hollowing her out like a rotted tree.
"No luck huh?"
Only silence answered her.
She returned it in kind.
Cecilia placed the two flowers into the small rusted holder, then nudged them gently to make sure they stayed.
She did not have any real words left to say.
You could only repeat the same things so many times before they stopped meaning anything.
A few seconds slipped by.
Finally, Cecilia reached into her jacket pocket. Her fingers brushed the ring of keys before finding the smallest one. She slid it into the lockbox and pulled it halfway open.
Inside sat two small metal urns, a bundle of dog tags, and a cliché photo, its colors washed out and warped by old water stains.
The picture showed Cecilia in the center, leaning against a slim wheelchair with a cheeky smile, bandages wrapped around one arm and over one eye.
A woman stood at one side, leaning in toward her, though her face had been completely ruined by the water damage.
The man beside them had once had his face covered by a harsh black scrawl, now faded to almost nothing.
Cecilia let out a soft sigh and shut the box with a firm snap, slipping the key back into her pocket.
Brrt-brrt-brrt!
She lifted her wrist, and the screen materialized with a caller ID.
A familiar shit-eating grin filled it, belonging to a man with lush blue-and-white hair and short pointed ears jutting out from the sides.
In his caller photo, Lucas sat on the corpse of some massive beast like it was a trophy.
Cecilia pulled out her earbuds, popped one in and accepted the call.
"GHH—glug-glug-glug! hh—!"
"Damn, are you trying to kill my ears?" Cecilia glanced around, found a bench, and dropped onto it in one motion, trying her best to ignore the screeching call. "Fiskaz."
"Don't call me that. I hated it the first hundred times and I still hate it now."
"No, I don't think I will. Ever."
Lucas took another long pull, followed by the sharp crash of a bottle hitting something it definitely shouldn't have.
"Ah fuu..." A sigh rattled through the line, followed by the sound of him sitting down.
"I was tryna make that last, too..."
He sounded defeated.
"So..." Cecilia dragged the word out a little and leaned back into the bench. "What do you want? You call me after, what, three years and you're still drinking yourself stupid."
"You'd only ever call me to clean up after your shit."
"Me? Drink?" Lucas hiccupped. "Nah, nah, it's just...flavored water. And for your first question, I have never once done such a thing."
Cecilia stared ahead, baffled.
"Wait. If I remember right, wasn't it Sherry who had to ask me to clean up after you every. Single. Time?"
"Hey now, let's not worry about the small stuff." His voice came through patchy, slurred around the edges. "What about you? How've you been?"
"I'm doing fine, no thanks to you." She crossed one leg over the other. "Your liver, on the other hand, is probably begging for mercy."
Lucas muttered something incomprehensible before he drew in a sad breath, then flipped tones so suddenly it almost made her blink.
"Last time we all saw each other, your hair was starting to go gray."
He broke into a wheezing laugh.
"Pfft—heh...damn, you looked stressed. Has it finally gone all gray?"
"Fuck off, you rude bastard!"
Cecilias norted, watching people come and go.
"So what're you doing here anyway calling me for?" She asked. "I thought you ran off to Colombia after that. Weren't you gonna open some big store? Sell people junk and stuff?"
"I did."
"So you failed."
"Whoa, whoa. Strong word choice there. I'm choosing to call it a strategic retreat."
"You failed."
"I failed..." He muttered. "Turns out it was harder than I thought. So now..." He let out another tired breath. "Now I'm doing the same stupid thing again. Surprise."
"Sounds miserable. And yet, somehow, I still can't find it in my heart to care."
For a second, it sounded like he was about to take another drink, but it never came.
"By the way, I've been meaning to ask. That old man still kicking? I don't even have his number anymore."
"Mmm? Yeah. He got married two years ago. Doesn't even have his fangs anymore... Mary's the boss now."
Lucas's laughter burst through her earbuds the moment she answered, loud enough to make her ears ring.
"No. Nah, come on. That grumpy bastard settled down?" He wheezed. "Who the hell signed up for that? Ohhhh—Mary's must be his lady then."
How'd you become even more stupid.
Cecilia raised a hand to her face and rubbed her temple.
"Since we're here...what about the others? Oh—and you too, I guess."
"...Who?"
The wind tugged at a few loose strands of her hair while she watched the water in the narrow pond shiver. Beyond it, the city still moved—cars passing in soft waves, voices rising and falling, shoes tapping concrete somewhere around her.
Lucas let out a breath through his nose.
"I'm asking about them. There were, what, almost forty of us?"
"Tch. Couldn't you take the hint or did all that drinking finally fry your brain? Way to kill the mood."
Her tone dipped with quiet irritation, the conversation lifting into the open air between them.
"Hold on a damn second—what'd I do?"
"Forget it...uhh...lemme see."
Cecilia lifted her left wrist.
An opaque screen blinked into view above her bracelet. Then another. Then two more.
The screens unfolded around her in muted layers. Posts of old, short clips and aged photographs surfaced as articles followed after.
The pond and the people walking nearby slipped behind the overlapping panels. The city continued to move beyond them.
"...Huh."
She opened the first name.
A picture showed a woman standing beside a freight, resting an arm over the hood.
"Myra drives freight now."
"No shit."
Another screen replaced it.
"Nate a teacher at some small firm."
Sherry had gotten married.
Two others ran a repair yard together.
Several had stayed in the industry, under company Cecilia had never heard of.
Then the updates began thinning out.
Some profiles had not changed in years.
A few ended with memorial pages while others returned to nothing beyond old licenses, expired registrations and photos copied so many times their faces had blurred.
Cecilia slowed when a familiar name produced an article.
"Raul's doing fifteen for moving stolen military hardware."
Lucas gave a low whistle.
"He always did like taking things that weren't his."
"There's a difference between stealing wallets and stealing an armored carrier."
The next one had opened a restaurant.
The one after that had died less than a year after.
Cecilia stopped scrolling.
A blurry group photograph hovered near the center of everything. Her younger self stood trapped in the middle, surrounded by faces she could no longer name.
"Half of them never left." She murmured. "The other half act like they were never part of it."
"Can you blame them?"
The picture remained open.
"No. No I cant."
One by one, Cecilia dismissed the other screens until only the photograph remained between her and the crematorium.
"What the hell happened to all of us?"
"Do you think we got off easy?"
"You call this easy?"
Cecilia looked past the photograph toward the stone building and the rows hidden inside it.
"No."
She closed the last screen. The city returned all at once—water rippling in the pond, shoes against concrete and voices drifting through the open air.
A rough breath pushed through.
"What about you?" Lucas asked. "You still in?"
"Nah." Cecilia settled farther into the bench. "I'm retiring."
"You're what?"
"I'm retiring." She repeated, slower this time. "After I get back from my trip home, I'm opening my shop for real."
"I still haven't forgiven you."
"...Yeah."