Luke woke slowly, blinking against soft, warm light. He wasn't in a ruin. He wasn't in the car. He wasn't surrounded by demons. He was in a small, clean home lit by working lamps, cooled by humming AC, everything neatly arranged.A man in his forties stepped forward, dark‑skinned, calm, composed."Hello, Hero," he said. "My name is Elijah. I am the leader of my people. And you are? "Luke sat up with effort, surprised by the comfort around him.
"Thank you… for keeping us alive. I owe you and your people." Elijah nodded. "We heard of your coming. "Luke frowned. "How?" "Light sent a beacon," Elijah said. "I don't know if every city received it, but we did. So I sent scouts to watch for you."Luke chuckled softly. "Light… he's really stepping up."Elijah's expression shifted. "But your friend… Stuart… he is in critical condition. Our best healers are working, but he is in God's hands now. "Luke's chest tightened. How did I let this happen? Stuart… forgive me. "He's in a coma," Elijah continued gently. "You may see him,"Luke nodded. "Please."Elijah helped him stand. Luke leaned on a crutch, hopping carefully down the hallway.They entered a quiet room filled with soft candlelight. Blankets. Flowers. Warm scents. Peace. Luke stared. "These people don't even know him… but they brought him gifts." Elijah stepped back. "I'll wait outside." Luke approached the bed.
Stuart lay still, a small monitor tracking his pulse."Advanced tech…" Luke whispered. He sat beside him, eyes stinging."Stuart… I'm sorry. This is my fault. Please… forgive me." Silence. Luke waited, hoping for a twitch, a breath, anything. Nothing. He wiped his face, stood, and hopped toward the door. Elijah was waiting."What is your plan?" he asked. Luke's eyes hardened."To win this war."