When fate and worlds collide

11 | When the past returns

11 | When the past returns

Early morning bled over the horizon, a thin wash of gold creeping between the broken rooftops. I scanned the street below for movement—any twitch of shadow, any scrape of claws. Any indication the Ferals were still in the area. The air remained eerily still. Nothing yet. Good, but never good enough. I’d already been up for over an hour, both men still asleep when I cracked the seal on the trapdoor and quietly packed what little food, water, and medical supplies I could find.

Jax looked worse. The poison had climbed from his arm to the edge of his shoulder, inching toward his heart like it had a personal grudge. His breathing was ragged, sweat slicking his forehead as he shivered beneath the blankets. If we didn’t reach their group soon, he wouldn’t see sundown. To top it off, we would be practically dragging him through the streets.

Soft footsteps sounded behind me. I shifted just enough to glance back and found Glen watching me with that surprised look people got when they realized I’d heard them coming. No one had managed to sneak up on me since the Fall. I turned back to the street.

“What direction is your group located?” Glen stepped up beside me, scanning the surroundings before pointing northeast. The mountains rose in the distance like jagged teeth. They must’ve been traveling awhile. Too long, probably. And leaving their last shelter meant something bad enough to outweigh the risk. That was… concerning.

“Is your friend awake?” I asked without looking at him.

He nodded, stepping up beside me. “Barely.”

“Good. We need to move.” I handed him the two ammo clips I’d found stashed under a shelf. “I don’t know which direction the Ferals scattered, and with your friend dying on his feet, rooftops aren’t an option for speed or surveillance.”

Glen exhaled shakily. “He’s gotten worse. It must’ve spread overnight.”

“They’re always stronger at night,” I replied, not looking at him. “Poison included.”

He huffed a humorless laugh. “Kind of ironic since they don’t hunt at night.”

I ignored the comment. “If the wound had been any worse, he’d already be dead.” I glanced at Glen, noting the twisted expression and sweat beading his forehead. He was scared. “I can give him something,” I continued. “It’ll push his body to about eighty percent of normal function, but it might make the poison worse—or kill him before we find your people.”

Glen swallowed. “What’s the alternative?”

“We move as we are… and die before we get anywhere close.” Brutal, but I’d run the math. I’d run all of them. With Jax’s current state, none ended well without help.

“How long would we have?”

“A few hours. Give or take. It varies with each person.”

“And there’s no other way?” He stepped closer and my body tensed instantly. I turned to holster my gun just to force a few inches of space between us.

“If you want to survive? No.”

He straightened, jaw tight. “Then we’d better move.” Of course. Humans loved to pretend they were selfless, as if compassion were their defining trait. But when the choice came down to survival or sacrifice, every single one of them chose themselves. Even if it meant someone else paid the price.

Nothing new there.

I headed back down to Jax. His breathing was ragged, his whole body trembling like he was already halfway to the grave. I grabbed the last sterile syringe and hesitated only a second before taking the small unmarked vial from the fridge. The liquid inside was dark and thick—and too familiar. I gave it a shake, my heartbeat thudding in my ears. The last time I tried this… well, it didn’t end the way I’d hoped.

I drew up five milliliters without looking at either man. I could feel Glen’s stare drilling into the side of my skull, all questions and suspicion. I didn’t acknowledge it or explain. The truth would only make him panic, and I needed him steady. I’d prepared this vial earlier, while both of them slept—mixing it carefully, siphoning off a small portion of my own blood with magic humming under my skin. I didn’t have the time—or the patience—to explain how an Aura’s blood worked. Or how I’d discovered its more… lethal and dangerous applications completely by accident.

I injected the serum quickly before Glen could get a good look at the colour. If he had, we’d be wasting time peeling him off the ceiling. I hid the syringe and vial back in their place and met his eyes. He looked confused, suspicious, maybe even a little horrified. Fair. I barely understood why I was doing this myself. Apparently the human part of me refuses to shut down when someone I knew is dying… even if I did despise them.

Jax gasped and lurched upright. A strangled groan tore out of him as he swung his legs off the bunk. I moved fast, grabbing under his arms and hauling him to his feet before his brain could catch up.

“Hey—let him rest a moment!” Glen snapped. I shot him a glare sharp enough to peel paint.

“We don’t have a moment. If his body rejects what I gave him, this boost won’t last long. We need every second we’ve got.” He blinked, swallowed whatever argument he had, and helped me drag Jax toward the exit. Jax groaned again, his pulse hammering wildly under my grip. I prayed—quietly, begrudgingly—that it would hold. By the time I shoved the fridge back over the trapdoor, Jax managed to stand upright, rubbing at his temples.

“Wh—Glen? What happened?” His dazed gaze landed on me and sparked with recognition. “You… you saved—”

“We don’t have time for heart-to-heart chit chat,” I cut in sharply. “What I gave you burns fast. If it wears off before we find your group, I will leave you behind.” Jax’s mouth stayed open for a second before he snapped it shut. Good. Listening would keep him alive. I pushed past him, unbolted the back door, and swept the street for movement. Both men followed, Glen handing Jax a gun and gave me a small nod—ready. I was either overly committed. Or completely stupid pulling of this plan. Hard to tell.

Didn’t matter.

All I cared about was making it back to my son alive.

I slipped into the street, heading northwest toward the city center. Glen trailed behind me—loud, clumsy, every footfall scraping across my nerves. We paused at a corner, flattening ourselves against the stone as two Ferals bolted past a few streets over. One paused, sniffing the air. Thank the stars we were downwind. Once they were gone, we kept moving. I didn’t bother checking if the men kept up; I’d already warned them what would happen if they didn’t. Their noise gave them away anyway—might as well have tied bells to their boots. Jax’s breathing wheezed somewhere behind us, and I wondered, briefly, how well his body was taking to my blood. No time to check though, time was too precious. If we made it—and if their people joined the Tower—I’d have chances to evaluate the aftermath then.

We approached a large, old grocery store. Burned-out cars littered the parking lot, offering no real cover. I stopped beside a pharmacy, peeking around the corner for any sign of Ferals in the area. Glen shuffled closer and I resisted the urge to shove him away. He pointed across the parking lot.

“Our group is in the basement of that apartment building,” he whispered as I expanded my aura power to scan the area. “We crossed this lot three days ago. There were no Ferals—” He stepped forward like an i***t with a death wish. I yanked him back by the front of his shirt, slamming him roughly into the concrete, hand covering his mouth and silencing his protest as two Ferals climbed down from the grocery store roof.