They descended from the mountains not as refugees, but as a caravan of ghosts. Thirty-seven Longevos, five baseline companions who refused to leave loved ones, and Aris. They traveled at night, following river valleys and forgotten game trails. Their strength, which had felt like a curse, became their greatest asset. They moved mountains of fallen trees to clear paths, crossed raging glacial streams in single bounds, and carried supplies that would have required pack animals.
Kael walked at the front with Leila, his senses stretched to their new limits. He could hear the heartbeat of a deer three hundred meters away, smell rain approaching hours before it fell, see the heat signatures of small animals in the underbrush. The world had become a symphony of data, overwhelming and beautiful.
"Your pupils are dilating and contracting constantly," Aris noted, walking beside him with a handheld scanner she'd rigged from spare parts. "Your brain is processing visual information at least five times faster than baseline. How does it feel?"
"Like I've been half-blind my whole life," Kael said. "And half-deaf. And half-numb." He stopped, crouching to touch a patch of moss. "I can feel the individual cells in my fingertips. The moisture. The photosynthesis. It's… a lot."
Aris recorded the data. "Sensory amplification. Probably necessary to control your strength—you need finer input to manage finer output."
Behind them, the group moved with quiet efficiency. Erika carried a makeshift sled loaded with three people's supplies. Pierre scaled rocky outcroppings to scout ahead, returning with reports of clear paths. The older man—his name was Thomas—walked in the middle, his grief a palpable weight, but his steps were steady. He had decided to live, if only to remember his daughter.
On the third night, they reached the rendezvous point—an abandoned farmhouse on the Austrian border. David was there, as promised, though his smile was tighter now.
"You came," he said, watching them emerge from the woods. "Wiser than I expected."
"We're not here for you," Kael said. "We're here for the transport."
David nodded to two massive cargo trucks idling in the barn. "As agreed. Food, medical supplies, tools, satellite communicator with encrypted channels. And the coordinates." He handed Kael a tablet. "Siberian plateau. Former Soviet mining outpost abandoned in the 90s. Remote, geologically stable, and according to surveys, sitting on a massive aquifer."
Aris took the tablet, scrolling through data. "Temperatures reach minus fifty in winter. How are we supposed to survive that?"
"You lifted a building," David said mildly. "I suspect you'll manage. Besides…" He gestured to the trucks. "There are industrial heaters, insulated materials, geothermal probes. And your metabolisms will generate considerable heat."
Leila inspected the trucks. "These are tracked vehicles. For snow."
"The roads, such as they are, disappear two hundred kilometers from the site. You'll need to cross frozen tundra." David looked at the group. "This isn't a summer camp. This is the edge of the habitable world. But it's defensible. And more importantly, it's yours."
Kael studied the man. "What do you really want, David? You're not doing this out of altruism."
David's smile faded. "No. I'm not. I have… a condition. Early-stage cellular degradation. The doctors give me five years, maybe ten with treatment." He met Kael's eyes. "You represent a cure. Not for me—it's too late for me. But for my grandchildren. For humanity. If we can understand what happened to you, maybe we can guide it. Make it safe. Replicable."
"You want to turn people into us," Aris said, her voice tight.
"I want to turn aging into a choice," David corrected. "I want to turn weakness into option. Is that so terrible?"
The group exchanged glances. The moral calculus was becoming more complex by the day.
"We'll take the supplies," Kael said finally. "Not your agenda."
"The supplies come with the agenda," David said. "But fine. For now." He handed Kael a small device. "Encrypted beacon. When you're established, when you're ready to talk about research, press it. There are others like me. Scientists. Investors. People who believe in your future."
Kael took the beacon, weighing it in his palm. It felt heavy with implication.
They loaded into the trucks—cramped, dark, smelling of diesel and hope. As the engines roared to life, David leaned in the window. "One more thing. The world is reacting. There's a movement calling itself the Ephemeral League. They're gathering followers. Their message is… persuasive to those afraid of being left behind."
"What message?" Aris asked.
"That mortality is what makes us human. That you're not evolution—you're cancer." David stepped back. "Good luck. You'll need it."
The trucks pulled out, leaving the farmhouse behind. Through the small rear window, Kael watched David grow smaller, a lone figure in the moonlight, until he vanished into the trees.