Damn, my pride. As we passed a decrepit and only slightly crumbling apartment building, we decided it was as good a place as any. We entered the dark, dirty, and dusty hallways and took the closest to an intact apartment that we saw with solid windows and a working door. Cove used some form of magic to unlock the door with ease.

The apartment's interior was covered in mountains of snowy dust, and portions of the furniture, carpet, and walls were faded where the sun had beat down on them for years. Still, the place was in relatively good shape, and the leather couches in the living room remained unmoulded, if more than a bit dry.

Although the apartment had two bedrooms, upon discovery of the decaying remains of mattresses, we wordlessly decided to sleep on the couch in the living room. Both of us pretended to ignore the relieved shift in each other's shoulders at the realization. For some reason, the apartment only made the reality seem more real.

As Cove dug through the closets and the drawers, searching for any mostly intact blankets and sheets, I opened the windows and doors as far as I could get them, hoping to empty it of the stale air and usher in the cool and fresh air.

This was a mistake. The air rushed in, kicking up the dust particles and sending them to choke down our throats. Cove, exiting the master bedroom with fully intact blankets in his hands, shot me a glare as the dust entered his lungs, sending him into a coughing fit that nearly knocked him to the floor.

Struggling to breathe, he dropped the blankets on the floors and reached a hand out. My ears popped, and the air suddenly exploded outwards from Cove with a boom, picking up and carrying the white dust like snow as it exited through the windows. We each coughed a few more times, gratefully gasping in the fresh air.

I plopped down on the couch, reveling in the comfort. Despite Cove’s recent bout of cleaning magic, a cloud of dust formed in the air. “Thanks,” I said as we watched the dust sink into the ground.

Cove huffed a laugh that quickly turned into another cough, tossing the blankets next to him as he sat. “For a moment there, I was worried we were going to become part of the dust-filled decor lying on the floor.”

“You have to teach me how to do that,” I said, already dreaming of how much easier it would be to dust all of my books and my bookshelves.

Cove sank into the couch, letting his head fall back and his eyes fall closed. “Maybe when we get back.”

I was quite exhausted myself. Ranch and Ani were the only ones who had any energy left. Mechanically, I dug through my backpack, pulling out more granola bars and water bottles. I zipped the bag back up mournfully, knowing we needed to find a way to get food and water soon. At the promise of food, Cove straightened, taking the offerings with a warm thank you.

Dusk cast us into an atmosphere I could only describe as ‘liminal.’ The absence of the sounds of a city -the echoing shouts, the boisterous laughs, the purring of vehicle engines, and the rumble of electricity-were deafening in the city’s silence, causing other, typically unnoticeable noises to stand out more. The walls creaked and groaned with each gust of wind, which howled outside the windows as it hunted through the streets and the rubble. Small animals skittered inside the walls and dug through the wreckage, followed by the growls and hisses of fights, which caused Ani and Ranch to lift their heads, their ears flickering curiously.

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To the eye, the world outside was the graveyard of a once great city.

The brisk wind chilled into a humid breeze warning of rain. When my fingers began to tremble from the cold, I shoved the rest of the granola bar into my mouth and rose to shut the doors and windows before collapsing back down.

We tried to sleep at first, but the little food we’d eaten worked against us, returning our energy bit by bit until we were both staring up at the ceiling, bored, as the rain pitter-pattered against the window. Ani nipped at my fingers, and I poked and prodded him into a dangerous game of catch the hand.

Cove let out a deep, frustrated breath.“I’d hoped to be done by now.”

“Me too.” I had hoped to be done, but realistically I’d expected to be here as long as I’d been in Heirs.

He turned, smushing his face into the blanket he was using as a pillow, the couch creaking and groaning beneath him. “You’ve been acting weird,” he mumbled. I wasn’t sure if he was referring to my comparatively blase attitude about current events or how I was more withdrawn than he was used to.

I hesitated, and Ani used the opportunity to catch my hand, dragging it to his mouth so he could chomp on it. With a hiss, I yanked it back, inspecting the unbroken skin. Ani’s tail swished back and forth as he crouched, ready to pounce.

A memory of spending time with Sky, Helia, Azure, Sera, and Aeolus flashed through my mind, followed by the echo of loneliness I’d felt when I returned home. Warring with myself, I decided to take a leap of faith with someone I was starting to consider a friend. “As you might have noticed, I’m not good with people. It’s easier to let you do the talking, mostly. But…I hate to say I got used to this type of situation last time. I found it easier to roll with the unexpected.” I admitted freely.

Cove hmm’d.

I cleared my throat, then said, “You’ve been acting weird, too,” opening up the conversation for him to reach out emotionally as well. When I’d first met him, he’d seemed open and free-spoken, if a bit awkward. But he’d been growing every so quieter and more withdrawn. His problem stretched back to our training, having only gotten worse the longer we spent here.

Cove remained silent for a few seconds. “It’s nothing.”

It felt like he’d just slammed a door in my face. I recoiled slightly, letting my hand fall within Ani’s range again. He took the opportunity, wrapping his front paws around my arm and attempting to disembowel my arm.

Ranch, envious of the attention Ani was getting, sprung up on the couch, tackling him off me and sending them tumbling to the floor. Ani batted at her face, and they took off, playing the cat version of tag.

Thunder roared in the distance, rumbling the window and shaking the apartment. Cove and I both flinched at the sudden noise. The wind howled through the broken jungle, and the walls creaked and trembled with the force of it. When I closed my eyes for a second, the thunderstorm almost drowned out the eerie silence and sight of the world outside.

Almost.

When I opened them, I was jerked back to the creepy sight of dead buildings backlit by a raging thunderstorm. I shivered, but not from cold. My eyes landed on a dull and faded picture of a family, their features obscured by the smudged frame. I wondered what had happened to them. Wondered how many times they’d rested on this same couch, letting the swelling storm lead them deeper into sleep.

I blinked, and the apartment rebuilt itself before me, lighting up with artificial light.

A black-haired child no older than five sprinted into the living room from the second bedroom, his arms clutched tightly around a teddy bear. Thunder boomed, and he shrieked, leaping to bury himself in the covers on the opposite couch. An older, black-haired woman–his mom?-- chuckled and rubbed soothing circles into his back through the blanket.

“You’re trembling like a leaf!” She exclaimed, bending down to peer at her son’s face.

Thunder shook the walls, and the floors, and the kid buried himself deeper.

“‘It is only during a storm that a tree knows how strong it is,’” she quoted, poking her son’s cheek. “Show me how strong you are, my little leaf.”

The kid bravely pulled away from the couch, looking fearfully at his mother. The next time thunder rumbled, he wavered but did not withdraw. The lights overhead shivered and flickered.

“--yden”