Epilogue

September 7th, 15.006 La Paz, Umbra [Vampire Continent]

“Reno. Stop it already.” Zevran didn’t raise his voice; he sharpened it.

Reno hopped anyway—concrete bump to bump like the street was a game he’d invented. “It’s cardio,” he said, palms out, grin reckless. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Whose doctor—?” When he spoke to Reno, Zevran’s voice sounded more like a wild animal’s than a teenager’s.

“Ohhh, just leave it, he’s not bothering anyone”, Haru cut in, not even looking up from tucking his long hair behind one ear. He came running from the Research Wing and found some of the new cadets heading toward the shoreline, just like they’d promised earlier.

“HaaaruuUuuu”, Reno shouted, and reached for his hands without thinking—then thinking, then doing it anyway. Air pulled like a curtain; Haru lifted a foot—two—three. His laugh came first, startled and bright; the panic arrived half a second late and sat right behind his teeth.

“Hey—hey—okay—down—down—”, Haru’s shoes found the sidewalk and he grabbed Reno’s sleeve, both of them trying not to look at Zevran’s deadly gaze. 

Nima, titled her head at the act. “That’s the first time you’ve lifted another person,” she said softly. “Gravity control on someone else.”

Reno’s grin turned into something he didn’t have a name for. Risha, half-run from the back, nearly tripped over his own excitement. “Me next! Lift meeeeee.”

“No. Stop,” Zevran said, arms crossed. 

“C’moOOn,” Risha kept going, bouncing, ignoring Zevran’s command. 

“Try me at the beach,” Nima told Reno, tone so matter-of-fact it sounded like permission from the future. “Under safer ground.”

Reno never stopped jumping from one point to the other but he held Haru’s hand for stability; he didn’t need it at all but it was an excuse. Both of them knew about it. Science fail from wherever you look at it. 

Everyone ignored them, whether out of respect for their unspoken feelings or simply from the comfort that came with routine. They’d always been like that—if they started acting differently, that would be strange.

The rest of the Golden pack arrived in waves. They hit the sand and the sunset hit them back with the smell of salt, fried oil from a far stall, someone’s radio coughing a chorus, the tiny hiss of low tide counting to itself. Shoes came off like confessions. Cloud appeared from somewhere —he traced Risha like a life swear. He leaned his weight into Risha’s legs until the kid steadied and then made a slow round, cataloging them by scent and sigh, settling finally where he could see everyone.

“Debrief,” Zevran announced, failing to sound like he wasn’t proud of the word. He sat, precise even when folding onto sand. “Short. Useful. We—”

“—will literally die if you make a speech,” Lola said, flopping onto her back so the sky could sit on her. She dug a heel into the sand and watched sweat cool on her own forearm like weather changing.

“Not dying today,” Renji muttered, half to Lola, half to the horizon. He slung his tie into his bag with relief. “Also—Riku, I missed you at the yard.” Renji was the older of the two, but his personality was softer, sweeter. Protective to the core and… clingy. Very clingy. Another of the many traits he shared with Jeda. Renji was completely dependent on his younger brother—the family genius—and he didn’t bother trying to hide it.

“Ah, that. Now that you are staff you won’t be at home anymore. I’m finally an only child.” Riku said, a touch too casual. Unlike the other two Tanners, Riku was fairly detached. “Training got boring, bro. I like the mix between med-classes and scientific investigation. Tech and Eloise are going to let me split between Wings—bio-systems with numbers, maybe some implant wet-lab once I stop fainting at pictures.”

“You fainted—???” The panic in Renji’s voice made Lola and Risha sigh in unison, both thinking, ‘How cute’.

“At pictures,” Riku repeated, defiant. Ashamed, too, but real. “I… don’t like blood.”

“You should stay away from Reno, then” Haru said, taking the opportunity. “He’s either dripping blood or biting blood from another one; you wouldn’t last a sec”.

“Heh, true”, Reno said, taking his tongue out, winking. His shirt was already filled with blood from… training? 

“Speaking of…” Risha said, “Nima’s going to kick all our butts by winter.” He said it with pride he couldn’t hide even if he’d wanted to.

“NIMA, Nima,” Reno chimed in, flinging a handful of dry sand that went nowhere. “You surprised the hell out of me today! Nice.”

“I’m average,” Nima said and moved the sand Reno lifted with a wave of magic. The sand stuck at the corners of her mouth when she smiled. She didn’t wipe it off.

“Zev’s not even the strongest Luunel,” Lola added with a lazy evil that made Zev snort. She hadn’t even been at the training they were talking about.

“I never said I was,” Zevran said, mid-proud of his little sister and mid-angry that he wasn’t the strongest. “I said I’m stronger than Reno.”

“I literally lifted a whole Haru five minutes ago,” Reno protested.

“A haru is a unit of measure now?” Haru asked, but he was smiling like he didn’t hate it; he was used to Reno’s wildness. He was still a bit breathless, though, which made Reno dangerously happy.

Riku leaned forward, elbow on knee, changing the subject. “Anyway, teleportation plates,” he said, and his voice got that I-have-a-thing pitch. “My array mapping idea totally—”

“—your wrong array mapping idea,” Haru corrected, at the same time, very polite about being rude. “I had to break down step by step your great idea to even make it possible to—”

“—but it started in my brain,” Riku said. “Which was my point. Do not interrupt me.”

Lola cut her eyes sideways at Nima. In the little silence, both girls had the same thought at the same time, and didn’t say it aloud: oh—Haru doesn’t like Riku. And Riku doesn’t like Haru. Both of them like… Reno?? The girls disbelieved the idea. Nima felt it land in her chest like a pebble in a bowl—no splash, just deepness. She looked at Risha to see if he’d noticed anything at all; he was braiding Yuki’s hair trying to keep up with the genius conversation, humming under his breath.

Rex appeared upside down on Lola’s shoulder like he’d spilled out of a pocket dimension wrong. He stretched, cracked his tiny back, and announced, “Hello, little pack of brats.” His tail made a question mark that looked like a threat. “Congratulations to you all on your first day of training for war. A kidnap, a cute death, a math fetish, a walking rule, a corpse-counter, a smiling blade, and —he glanced at Risha– Lola, carry me.” He let his arms reach for her clothes. 

“Carry yourself,” Lola said, but she scooped him anyway.

Risha held out a palm. “Rex, you forgot about me. Rate my first day.”

Rex’s eyes changed shape in a way that only a Calamity could do. He looked at the kid properly and then—He hissed, soft and happy but clinging closer to Lola: “Away, sorcerer. You could kill without looking. You already did. I can taste the ash on you from afar.”

Silence slid over the group. Not all of them knew about Risha’s past, and even if Risha wasn’t hiding anything, he wanted to leave some things behind. 

Risha’s mouth did that thing where it got stubborn to keep from getting hurt but his eyes got wet. “Uh… no, wait, you shouldn’t be afraid of me,” he said. “I’m training every day so that never happens again.”

“You think it matters?,” Rex said lightly, like he hadn’t just said the cruelest thing he knew how to say. “We Calamities have a saying of never crossing paths with a Risha, but here I am digging my own grave by just standing here and—” Lola brushed him off and he felt right on the sand and started digging a pointless, furious hole with both paws and laid there as dead already; pure theater. 

Silence took over; no one quite followed what Rex said nor how big Risha’s power was. Cloud stood up, walked over, and leaned his whole shoulder into Risha until the kid’s weight remembered how to be his. Nima’s hand found Risha’s without asking; Risha squeezed once and let go like it was a secret.

“Okay…” Renji said, clapping his hands once as if noise could break a spell. “Tomorrow, long day ahead. Tonight we—”

“—touch the water and the last one will have to carry Rex home,” Yuki decided and started sprinting. 

They went ankle-deep on the low tide line, a crooked row of silhouettes. Warm waves licked bruised shins. Someone hissed. Someone laughed. Reno splashed like an untrained puppy; Zev snarled and stood aside, water barely touching him; Haru tried to be above it and failed gracefully. Riku tried to say something serious and swallowed a mouthful of salt instead. Lola and Renji traded insults that sounded like flirting because two people born loud will always sound like flirting. Nima memorized the rhythm of breathing after a day that asked too much. Risha watched the way the water pulled back and thought: not yet. Not yet. Please.

For a minute it was almost summer again. For a minute that felt like two.

They trailed back up the sand with the last light, cheeks tight with salt, uniforms damp at the hems, mouths full of stories they didn’t tell yet.

Cloud shook once and followed the pack back to their homes.

♥︎

On the other side of the shore, the desert had no patience for softness. The Barricade was all right angles and floodlights, a city built from suspicion and budget reports. Trucks growled. Vents breathed. The wind brought the taste of metal and old heat.

A girl with a gray lanyard and a broom moved through the skeleton of a new checkpoint like she already belonged to tomorrow. She learned how to look ordinary and plain, and she was way too careful to look eager. She checked crate codes against a manifest no one else had read properly, corrected a sergeant’s signature without being seen correcting it, and smoothed the map tacked to the wall like it might purr if you were kind.

“Yuna,” someone called, pleased to have a name to pin the work on. “You’re floor lead now. Clear the north ramp by shift change.”

She nodded like it was a small thing and hid the way her pulse brightened. Floor lead meant keys. Keys meant codes. Codes meant doors that spoke. She repeated the order back in the clipped cadence everyone here used. She blended in by honoring their habits; she climbed by honoring the work.

On a desk she passed, a Department of Human Ascension requisition lay open, the spiral-DNA emblem half swallowed by a coffee ring. She didn’t look at it long enough to be seen looking at it. Seven facilities. One down. One about to start. The numbers lived behind her eyes now; numbers were how you stayed steady. She kept moving.

At the north ramp, a sentry scanned her badge and waved her through with the raw cruelty The Barricade treated halves. Yuna smiled the kind of smile that never touched anything vital.

Far away—on a beach that smelled like salt and sugar and future—someone who shouldn’t care as much as he did stared out over the water and wondered if the girl he worried about was sleeping enough. He would not say it out loud. He would only keep the lights on and the city ready.

Yuna set a cone straight, moved three crates without being asked, and memorized the rotation of the cameras by listening for their tiny ticks. Not discovered yet. Not safe either. Closer to the place where the secrets lived.

The floodlights throbbed. The desert held its breath. And the girl with the broom took another step up the invisible ladder toward the danger she kept pretending was only a job.

♥︎