Chapter 20: A Cut Beneath the Quiet
It was another still morning.
No birds. No wind. Just light too bright, air too stale, and silence that pressed in like a second skin.
But the quiet between them was louder.
Aria stood by the door, adjusting the straps of her backpack. Her eyes flicked once—twice—to Selene.
Selene said nothing. Only nodded.
Cool. Distant. Efficient.
Just like yesterday.
As if her lips hadn't tasted of fever and fire.
As if they hadn't crossed a line that couldn't be uncrossed.
⸻
They moved through the fractured city like ghosts.
Stores with broken windows. Cars left in chaos. The shadows of panic etched deep into the pavement. And not yet—not yet—the hordes.
Aria scanned aisles with quiet focus. Selene guarded the doors, still and sharp.
They moved like they'd done this before.
Almost like a team.
Almost like more.
⸻
"Selene," Aria murmured, holding up a pack of medicine. "This could help if one of us—"
A loud crash cut her off.
Three men.
Desperate. Dirty. Armed with crude weapons and fevered eyes.
The kind of people fear turned to monsters long before the dead ever rose.
"Hand over your bags."
Selene stepped in front of her, calm and lethal.
"You don't want this."
One lunged.
Aria barely saw the blur—Selene moving too fast, her dagger slicing air, elbow cracking bone, body like precision honed over years of survival.
But the second man slashed wildly—
And steel kissed Selene's side.
She didn't flinch.
Didn't make a sound.
Just turned, expression colder than the blade that struck her, and dropped him with a blow that would leave him broken long after the bruises faded.
The third ran.
Coward's instinct.
⸻
"Selene!" Aria dropped to her knees beside her, grabbing her side. Blood—bright, wet, far too warm.
"It's shallow," Selene said, too evenly.
"Don't lie to me." Aria's voice trembled.
"I'm fine," she whispered.
Still lying.
But Aria didn't argue. Not yet.
She wrapped the wound with trembling fingers, face flushed—not from exertion, but something colder: fear.
⸻
They returned to the apartment in silence.
The bags were full.
They had what they needed—medicine, food, fuel, even batteries.
But Aria barely noticed.
⸻
Later, Selene sat shirtless on the couch, her side exposed as Aria cleaned the wound properly.
She didn't speak.
Didn't look up.
Just worked gently, slowly, her hands careful—tender, even.
"…Why do you always protect me?" she asked, barely above a whisper.
Selene didn't answer right away.
Then, too softly:
"Because I already failed once."
⸻
Aria paused.
Her gaze lifted.
Selene looked away.
And the silence between them twisted, not empty—but full of something raw and living.
⸻
It was the fifth day since the world cracked open.
Five days since the dead began to walk.
Since survival became routine.
Since Aria learned the power living inside her wasn't just strange—it was dangerous.
She hadn't used her pocket dimension since the outburst on the street. Not because she couldn't—but because Selene had told her not to.
"People are watching," Selene had said. "You open that space in front of the wrong eyes, and you'll become a target."
Aria had seen the truth of it in the way those men looked at her. Desperate people with nothing left would take anything—especially power.
That golden-white light, that tear in the world that only she could open? It wasn't a gift. Not here. Not now. It was a beacon. A temptation. A threat.
Selene had been clear.
Use it only if you have to.
Hide it. Protect it. Or it'll be taken from you.
Aria had felt it herself—the way the world bent when she called it. It drained her. Scarred her from the inside out. She didn't understand it yet. Not fully. Not safely.
So she kept it locked away. Not for her own sake.
For Selene's.
But some part of her wondered—how long she could hold it in.
Because the world was changing.
And she was changing with it.
And power never stayed hidden for long.