The drive back home had a silence of two parts. First, the one from Gramps felt heavy and filled with meaning. Caelan’s silence, in contrast, was defiant, simmering with contained anger. No words exchanged since the young man announced his decision to join the military. The anti-anomaly squad to boot.

The one with the highest casualty rate.

Once the car parked, they still exchanged no words. Went through the motions, going inside the old house. A relic, as much as you could call anything post-Collapse with that word. On most days, it felt warm and cozy, a safe place for him.

Not on that day. It served as a reminder of days gone by, the kind you could never enjoy again.

With his massive back to him, Gramps held the top of one of his chairs. Vintage wood, survivors of the end of the world itself. His wife’s pride and joy, as he never tired to recall.

Caelan jumped back when the wood splintered beneath his grip.

“Oh, fuck this.” The old man turned to his grandson. Eyes on the verge of crying. “Lad, you must rethink that whole thing!”

The boy expected that. With a cross of his arms, he prepared himself for what’s about to come. “They hurt Sam! Almost killed her, not to mention the other thirteen people they snuffed out. And that’s just the confirmed ones.”

“Lad, you think I don’t know what it’s like to bury loved ones? To outlive people you care about? Don’t make me bury you too.” The old man's bear-like hands settled on Caelan’s shoulders. “Don’t throw away your life after going away unscathed.”

“Unscathed?” Color drained from the old man’s face. Caelan knew the reason. He could feel the purple veins in his hazel eyes flare up. “You know what the Rot did to me, don’t you?”

The boy gritted his teeth. Reminded of how Sam looked, half-eaten by those crystals. Of the many people convalescing at the hospital. Of the news that showed rows of covered corpses.

Of the media praising him as the lucky one.

Gramps argued it didn’t matter. That he should consider himself blessed. The boy’s vision blurred for a second, red-hot anger pressed against the inside of his skull. In response, he ran to the kitchen, where a knife waited for him at the drying rack. He picked it up, holding it above his wrist for a moment, unsure if he should do it.

Then, he thought of Sam. Her pained expression gave him the motivation to keep going.

Gramps lunged forward, but too late. The blade kissed Caelan’s skin, and a thin red line followed. Not too deep, something that would heal in a few days.

By the time Gramps reached him, it had already closed halfway. In a few more minutes, it would only remain as a scar.

An hour later, no sign of it would remain.

"You see?" Caelan lifted his arm, turning his wrist so Gramps could see the wound—already sealing, already fading. His voice came out hoarse, barely a whisper. “I’m not human anymore.”

“Stop that!” Gramps hugged him, his massive frame enveloping his little boy. “Who put that in your head? Was that colonel?” The last word came out with an intensity Caelan had never heard. Not from the gentle giant he knew his whole life. “I knew I should have snapped his neck the moment I saw the bastard!”

“No!” Caelan pushed at the older man. Before, this would have been like trying to move a mountain with his bare hands. Now, it sent the old man stumbling back, his eyes wide with shock. He caught himself on the broken chair, fingers gripping the splintered wood. “See? How can you say I’m normal when I can do this?”

“You can heal a bit faster, fine. And I won’t ever win at arm wrestling against you.” Gramps chuckled, only to stop when he saw his grandson hands turned into fists. “That doesn’t change who you are, son.”

“IT DOES!” Voice raised, Caelan felt the hot streak of tears in his face. “You don’t get it, I can’t have a normal life anymore! I don’t take the offer, the best scenario is me under constant surveillance. The worst, I get turned into a lab rat for who knows who. Or get taken by the fucking cult.” He looked to the ground, letting his emotions come to the surface. “I would sooner bite my tongue before I let that happen!”

“Oh Caelan…”

The boy turned man too soon raised his hand. Mouth opening and closing to formulate a sentence.

At last, he brought forth what had been on his mind the whole time. “It shouldn’t have been me. Why do I got to live when over fifty people, Sam included, won’t see ten years from now?”

To that, the old veteran had no answer. Other than a silent hug.

-----

For the first time in a long time, Caelan knew silence. Not from the world at large, but his own mind. Two days came and went, with no signs of the little ghost pestering him.

He had no idea how much that absence would fill him with heaviness. Not that he would ever admit it.

As he washed his face, he noticed the stubble beginning to form. He had shaven it every day up to that point. A relic from his soldier days. But now, an unfamiliar face looked back at him.

He didn’t bother with doing it that day.

“You don’t look so good, darling.” Seraphina, feet resting over the coffee table, looked him up and down when he showed up. Lucien peeled an apple opposite her. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Caelan had to summon all his will to not lash out at her. He still couldn’t keep something from leaking, though. “Look, I’m not up to your games today. Go pretend to give a sh… to care somewhere else.”

No word came from Vaedra since then. In fact, other than the two agents living at the dorm, he had little to no outside contact. He apologized to Falkner, inventing some excuse of sickness, to avoid moving about.

Better not to give them any ammo for the moment.

His response made Seraphina smirk and raise an eyebrow. Lucien tensed up, his grip on the knife tightening. Caelan thought nothing and it and made his way to the outdoor gym.

Routine. Focus. Anything but thinking. That’s why he always liked exercise.

He had finished the warm-up routine when he heard a voice from behind. “You know, I’m not playing games.” With a sigh, the displaced picked the barbell and prepared for his squats. “Shouldn’t you have a spotter when doing that?”

He began the exercise, focused on proper form even while trying to ignore her. “Not when it’s just the bar. I’ll think of it when I lift above that.”

She appeared in front of him, torso tilted at a forty-five degree. And another of her usual smirks. “I stick to calisthenics, but I’ve always been curious about all these bars and bells.”

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Caelan exhaled as he put the metal piece on the rack. “Don’t you have something better to do? Other than bothering me?”

Index on chin, she looked up as if giving it a serious thought. “To be honest, I just have to watch you. So, annoying you is a bonus.”

“Terrific.” He put all the sourness he could in that one word.

From the corner of his eye, he caught movement. Pulse quickened, ready for action. Body reacted by instinct, reaching for a handgun he always kept at his belt. Only to find nothing. A mental inventory of all the gear he had around formed. Each categorized in their use as an improvised weapon.

Caelan tensed up, ready for a fight, before he noticed it had been Lucien. Leaned against the pillar, he watched them both. Waving back at how Seraphina smiled and gave him a signal, he then left them.

Leopold’s warnings of the young man came to the surface. Caelan dismissed those without a thought. The agent might think him the culprit for his fellow executor’s disappearance. Of course he would be on guard with him.

“Don’t mind him.” Sera gave a shrug of her shoulders. “We’ve all been on edge with all that’s going on.”

Caelan wanted to ignore her, but ended up caving in. “You don’t look very stressed about it.”

The smile she gave seemed devoid of the usual energy. Hand held over her covered wrist. “People have different ways of showing it.” She sat down at a nearby bench to watch his routine, legs crossed. He noticed how none of the sensual movements were present. “I’m more impressed you can do this every day, without a fault. Pull iron and all, I mean.”

“It helps with clearing the mind.” Caelan finished the final set of squats, sweat all over his body. “Push and pull. Up and down. No need to think hard.”

“True.” She watched him for a while, head rested against the palm of her hand. “Things don’t look good for you, do they?”

The young man blinked twice, processing the question. Then she added his standing with the executors could use some work. Once again, Caelan had to summon all his strength of character not to lash out at her.

“Unless you have an idea on how that can be improved, be quiet, please.”

He had finished the set up for his bench press when she spoke. That made him pause in place. “I do, actually.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to check what new game she played. “How so?”

Her grin returned to its usual form. “Oh, thought you would never ask, darling.”

-----

Caelan knew this was a bad idea. He followed Seraphina into the dark alleys anyway. Leopold would have a field day if he were here…

Seraphina led him, clad in the usual Executor mission attire: a bodysuit covered by a poncho. This allowed her to drop the outer layer to give her the freedom necessary to fight. All while her weapons and gear remained concealed while walking the streets.

“How did you have this ready again?” Caelan adjusted his uniform, tailored to fit Leopold’s still-obese frame.

She turned her neck a bit, still walking ahead. “Oh, I like to sew in my spare time. Adapting the uniform to your size was a fun way to pass time.”

Beneath his poncho, Caelan carried a few weapons, in case he needed them. He knew Seraphina wouldn’t be the kind to betray him.

Still, the weight of the tomahawk reassured him.

Until now, he had never left the Academy grounds. There had been no reason to, as he had to use his time with purpose. Yet, he couldn’t help but look around like a child. For everything felt so different from his old home.

First, the people—crowds still walked despite the late hour. No curfews, no special permissions needed. How many years had it been for him since he saw a crowd at night? And so many lights, spread across the city, pushing the darkness away.

The smell of food overwhelmed him. A dozen different spices fought for his senses, all the time. The fat of genuine meats, the sweet sensation of cakes right out the oven.

And music too! It flowed from inside stores and from street performers alike. Everything felt so different, so alien to him.

All this life—music, laughter, the scent of fresh food—it should have felt like a dream. Instead, it made his skin itch. The last time he saw a crowd this large at night, it ended in blood and fire. It made all the clearer this was a different world. Or rather, how it should have been if not for the Collapse.

And the Rot.

Seraphina turned into an alleyway, leaving the buzz behind. The young man followed as she scaled a fire escape, heading straight for the rooftop. She pulled a pair of binoculars, checking the other side of the street.

“So, is that where this hideout is?” Caelan panted as he reached her. Each word a struggle to come out.

“According to my intel, yes.” She offered the lens to him. A residential building, its painting coming out at points, came into view. “This place serves to relay messages between cells. Will be here for a few days before they move to a new location.”

He glanced at the rooftops. No sentries. If we’re walking into a setup, it’s a well-disguised one.

“Keeping mobile. Less chance of being caught.” He looked for entry points at ground level. Only the front door came into view, from his point-of-view. “We going in from the back, I assume?” Seraphina studied him for a moment before answering. “Something wrong?”

“You really are a box full of surprises, aren’t you?” She gave him a little nudge at the shoulder. "There is an entrance at the back, but I would rather go by the door on the roof. Doubt any sentry would expect it.”

“Alright.” He sat down away from the edge. Less chances to have people notice from the street. “You sure they would have data to prove my innocence?”

“These places handle all the coding and decryption of their comms.” She sat down besides him, a bit too close in his opinion. “Different cells rely on them to be on the loop of what’s going on. That’s why is so hard to actually find them.”

That had Caelan tense up. He questioned how she happened to find one out then. She explained one of her trusted sources came across the info. Not even Vaedra knew of it yet. In her eyes, they go there, check if there had been any mention of the names “Leopold” provided. If they found none of it, him being a mole would lose credibility.

At least, enough to have Vaedra guessing even longer.

“Don’t you think I could temper with evidence when we get there?”

"Not at all." He jolted when she shifted, laying her head in his lap. “I’m watching you the whole time, to make sure. Now, if you’ll excuse me for a bit. The fat on your legs make them quite comfortable, and we have to wait a few hours before going in.”

He stared at the woman with closed eyes invading his personal space. Then, he released a sigh and reminded myself this was her alright. Even Kai Garnier didn’t know how to handle you.

He thought of Sam, who often did the same thing. Caelan even felt the urge to play with Seraphina’s hair like he did years before. Before his wife lost her gorgeous brown mane. He could still hear the buzz as she took it all off herself.

To donate so kids could get wigs, she said. She looked the most beautiful woman in the world in his eyes.

Chest tightened, he looked at the sky for a distraction. The light pollution drowned out most of the stars. But the fiercest ones still fought to shine through. And the moon, clad in its green hues, dominated the sky. A sad smile came to the young widower, thinking back on so many nights.

If not for the crushing paranoia, he would have even enjoyed himself.

Hours passed, the streets became emptier. When Seraphina thought them cleared enough, they moved.

The duo climbed the fire escape to the building besides the objective. Then jumped across the gap between them. The girl even joked on how she expected him to shake the whole thing. Caelan thought how Leopold would respond to it. If he were there.

“I know you’re listening, you fool! Just come out already!”

He got no response.

Once they went through the door, they pulled their weapons. A combat knife for Seraphina, the tomahawk for him. They moved in silence, into the dim lit hallways and stairs. “There's a hidden area beneath the building.” She whispered as they reached the ground floor. “Other than that, the place is empty.”

Knowing her Blessing, Caelan figured they shouldn’t have any surprises. He reminded himself that he should question her words. In theory, he shouldn’t be aware she could sense her surroundings with an “essence sonar”.

Leopold would question it with a sarcastic remark. Before Caelan would explain her whole deal and how they should trust her. The knot in his stomach served as a poor replacement when he noticed that.

They reached a door on the basement, a heavy lock in place. The crack underneath had light coming from it, but no sound betrayed presences. That had Caelan’s mind on alert, wondering if they were walking into a trap. She assured him no one had come in or out of the building since they began their vigil.

If he didn’t need to prove his innocence so bad, he would have retreated. Instead, he tightened the grip on his weapon.

As she worked on picking it, Caelan watched the top of the stairs. He readied himself to throw the first axe, a second one ready at his belt. A minute of tension later, she unlocked it, both ready for their assault.

Seraphina kicked the door open. They rushed in, her voice sharp as she ordered anyone inside to surrender.. Only silence came as answer.

For the room had been empty of people.

“What in the…” Seraphina scanned the room, confusion flickering across her face.

Caelan scanned the room. At first glance, it looked like a normal office. Except for the scattered papers and overturned utensils. Someone had cleaned the place in a hurry. No signs of entry points other than the one they came from. A hidden door?

As he tried to make sense of it all, he heard a voice. “WATCH OUT!”

Caelan jumped to the side, rolling away from the portal. With a swoosh, two throwing knifes came into his former position. Seraphina gasped, spinning toward the stairs, blades raised in a low, defensive stance.

“Careful! I can’t sense him with my Blessing.” She then whispered to herself, just loud enough for him to pick up. “This can’t be happening…”

This doesn’t make sense. If her intel was right, where the hell did they come from?

The sound of heavy stomps struck his eardrums. Caelan prepared himself to throw an axe at whoever came in. But when the figure covered head to toe came in, he froze in place. Cold terror gripped him before his brain could catch up. The figure loomed in the doorway, and then he saw the eyes. Not human eyes. Irises laced with purple.

The color of the Rot!