The city above was breathing again.
Weeks had passed since the Core’s collapse, and though the world looked the same, something fundamental had changed. The neon hum that once filled the skyline was quieter, almost reverent, as if the machines themselves were mourning what had been lost—and what had been reborn.
Natalie stood at the window of the safehouse, sunlight painting her face gold. Ethan slept soundly in the crib beside her, clutching a small stuffed bear. His breathing was steady, his tiny chest rising and falling in rhythm with her own heartbeat.
But she didn’t sleep anymore. Not since that night underground.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Adrian’s face—the flicker of light behind his eyes, the way he whispered “never goodbye.”
Mira entered quietly, a mug of coffee
