(Meant to be read after Rebellion.)
It was raining.
3:00 a.m.
The hour when the world forgets to breathe.
No pedestrians.
Only the shiver of flickering streetlights struggling against the fog.
Cold clung to the air like something alive.
"Psst."
Aira knelt beside a small wooden bed—half-rotted, the frame eaten hollow by termites.
She touched the edge gently, as though afraid the entire thing might collapse beneath her fingers.
"Alice… hey," she whispered.
The young girl stirred, her lashes fluttering.
Then—
"Sis—SISTER!"
Alice bolted upright and wrapped both arms around Aira's neck, small fingers digging in with relief.
"Q-quiet," Aira hissed, but her own arms tightened around the girl all the same.
They slipped through a broken orphanage window.
Glass lay scattered across the sill like frozen stars, but their feet moved through it without hesitation.
They had learned long ago that pain was something they would meet again and again—no need to fear its smaller forms.
Outside, the city stretched upward, wet and breathless.
The sisters climbed the fire escape and crossed the rooftops, their silhouettes leaping between buildings as if the sky itself were calling them.
"Aira… I—I don't think I can do it," Alice whispered, voice trembling as she stared at the gap between roofs.
"You can," Aira murmured. "Just believe me."
"A-Alright…"
Alice backed up to the far ledge, rain collecting in her hair.
Her breath shook.
She ran.
And jumped.
For one suspended second, the night seemed to swallow her.
Then Aira's hand locked around her wrist.
"Got you," she breathed.
Warm—
that was the thought that flickered across Alice's mind as her sister hauled her onto the roof.
They climbed until there was nowhere higher to go.
At the peak of the building, the wind scraped against their skin, sharp and cold.
Below them, the sleeping city blurred into fog and rain.
"The moon…" Alice whispered, pointing upward.
"It's beautiful, right?" Aira said.
Alice smiled at her.
Aira only stared back—longer than she needed to.
As if memorizing her.
---
BEEP.
BEEP.
BEEP.
The memory dissolved.
"…How long has she been gone?"
Kael asked, his voice dull at the edges.
"About… four to five years,"
Aira answered. Quiet. Almost ashamed of the number.
"…"
"I—Is Alex—"
Kael said nothing.
He simply turned and walked out.
CLANK.
The crash rang through the hallway.
Aira flinched, her breath catching as she stepped toward the doorway.
"FUCK!" Kael roared.
A vase struck the TV with a violent crack, shattering into a spray of ceramic that scattered across the floor.
He stood amid the debris, shoulders heaving, hands trembling as if the rage were too large for his body to contain.
"Breathe in… breathe out," he muttered, but the words sounded like someone else had taught them to him—a lesson he couldn't quite hold on to.
He exhaled sharply and headed toward the exit.
Another vase exploded under his kick, fragments skidding across the wall.
Silence settled in the wake of his footsteps.
And then her thoughts began to spiral.
What did I do…?
I was selfish.
Ignorant. A—A fucking loser.
I don't deserve this.
Why. Why would he save me?
I was a traitor. A traitor.
Her breathing fractured.
Her arms stiffened, fingers digging into her palms.
Her eyes twitched as though the present and the past were flickering over each other like old film.
WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY—
"Aira?"
Nila's voice punctured the spiral, sharp and concerned.
She touched Aira's shoulder carefully.
"Hey… you alright?"
Aira's vision blurred at the edges.
She didn't answer.
Nila placed a bottle of water into her hand.
"I—"
Her knees buckled.
The bottle slipped.
She caught it at the last second, snatched it to her chest—and bolted.
She ran from the room with her hands clamped over her ears, as though trying to shut out something only she could hear.