The safehouse smelled of rust and wet stone when Zane returned.
It was nearly dawn. The sky outside had turned a sickly gray-blue, the kind of morning that didn't feel like a beginning—just an extension of a long, brutal night.
Zane's legs nearly buckled as he entered the hallway. His gear was soaked, burned in places. The mask hung loose at his hip, useless now, the filter darkened with residue. His arms and chest ached with every breath. Smoke had found its way through the seals. He'd pay for that later.
He heard Mason's voice before he reached the infirmary.
"Come on, Lil. Stay with me. Just a little longer."
Zane stepped in. Mason was crouched beside the cot, eyes red, voice cracking.
Lily was worse.
Her breathing had turned shallow—more like panting. Her face had gone gray. Tiny flecks of blood had crusted around her lips. Her body was shutting down.
"I got it," Zane said.
Mason looked up. "What—?"
Zane was already pulling the sealed vial from his pack. The raw Bloomling spores shimmered inside—tiny particles suspended in a clear compound he'd crafted in the alley behind the substation using one of the emergency burners. Crude. But viable.
He slid the vial into the med-kit injector.
The injector hissed.
Lily jerked once. Then again.
Her chest rose sharply. A gasp tore from her throat, like someone yanking her back from the edge of something dark.
Mason grabbed her hand, almost collapsing beside her.
Zane stood there, silent, watching the color return to her skin—faint, but real. Her lips uncurled slightly. A little more air in every breath.
It was working.
It had actually worked.
He stepped back, feeling the weight of it all hit him at once. Not the physical exhaustion—that was there too—but the fact of it. That there'd been a mission. A Bloomling. A trap. A building that had screamed. Fire. Ash.
He hadn't imagined it.
But it still felt unreal.
⸻
He found Ava on the roof not long after.
She had one foot up on the low edge, her hands in the pockets of a jacket too thin for the chill. She didn't look back when he approached. Just nodded once.
"I'm happy you made it," she said.
He leaned against the wall beside her.
"Barely."
A pause.
"They said it was suicide," she added. "Mason thought you'd die out there."
"I almost did," he admitted. "Twice, maybe three times. I lost count."
She gave him a sidelong glance. "But you made it back in time—and because of you, Lily is alive."
"I wasn't going to come back empty-handed." He ran a hand through his hair, then wiped a smear of soot off his palm. "We're not losing people. Not like that. Not over something we can stop."
Ava was quiet for a while, looking out over the skeleton skyline. Smoke still curled faintly in the distance—where the substation used to be.
"You didn't have to go alone," she said eventually. "You always act like you do, but you don't."
Zane stared ahead.
"People who go with me tend to not come back," he said.
Another silence.
Then she said, quieter, "You're not just building a shelter here, are you?"
He shook his head. "Not anymore."
She looked at him—really looked. And nodded.
[Bond Progress: +1 – "Quiet Respect"]
⸻
Zane didn't sleep that morning. He sat in the control room while the others finally rested—Lily unconscious but stable, Mason half-passed out in a chair.
The System hovered in front of him, soft blue against the darkness.
[Spore Suppressant Added to Known Recipes]
[New Catalyst Identified: Bloomling Gland]
[Warning: Your location has been flagged by external surveillance]
[Unknown Group: Firefly Recon Cell – Tactical Activity Detected in Outer Zones]
He stared at the alert for a long time.
The Fireflies weren't just a rumor anymore.
They were moving. Watching. Reacting.
Zane leaned back in the chair, fatigue pulling at every nerve. But his mind stayed sharp.
They knew what he'd done. Knew what he'd found.
He wasn't just scavenging now. He wasn't just surviving.
He was a variable.
And variables were dangerous.