October 16, 2058 –
Sewer junction beneath South Side Chicago
The lantern flickers low. The air is thick with the smell of blood, antiseptic, and wet stone.
Kenji lies on a flattened cardboard box, arm wrapped in scavenged gauze soaked dark red. Bone shows white through the tear in his forearm. He's pale, but awake.
Maya sits against the wall, ribs bound tight with torn shirts. Every breath comes shallow, blood crusted at the corner of her mouth. Her golden light is barely a candle now.
Aisha's ruined leg is propped on a crate, stump wrapped, prosthetic shattered beside her like broken wings. She stares at it without blinking.
Malik floats an inch above the ground, gravity unsteady, eyes wide on the wounds he couldn't stop.
Jonah stitches what he can with fishing line and a sewing needle sterilized in Maya's flame. His hands shake.
Kayden sits in the corner, knees drawn up, illusions dead. He hasn't spoken since the rooftop.
Elijah kneels between them, shadows thin and ragged. His hands are still red from trying to hold everyone together.
No one speaks for a long time.
Malik finally whispers, "I wasn't worth this."
Maya's voice cracks. "Every kid is."
Aisha's laugh is short, bitter. "Tell that to my leg."
Kenji grunts through pain. "We got you out. That's what matters."
Jonah ties off a stitch. "But at what point does the cost break us?"
Silence again.
Elijah looks at Kayden. "You froze."
Kayden meets his eyes. "I saw what I could've done. Made them see worse. Made Patriot tear his own men apart. I almost did it."
He doesn't say the rest: And I wanted to.
Elijah nods once. He understands wanting.
Malik lowers himself to the ground. "They'll come harder now. For all of us."
Aisha closes her eyes. "Then we go quieter."
Maya reaches out, hand finding Elijah's. Her fingers are cold.
"We can't keep trading blood for freedom," she says. "There has to be another way."
Elijah squeezes back, careful of her ribs.
"There is," he says quietly. "We stop running alone."
The lantern flickers lower.
In the dark, six adults and one new boy breathe together.
The war isn't over.
It's just gone quiet.
For now.