The path leading out of the Heart of Hollow Vale was little more than a narrow trail swallowed by roots and fog. The air still carried a faint static hum from the collapsing dungeon, bits of broken code flickering like fireflies between the trees before fading away completely.

  Miles trudged beside them at first, clutching his wooden staff with both hands. His small boots scuffing against the uneven stone, each step slower than the last. The initial excitement of their escape had drained away, replaced by the heavy pull of exhaustion. His eyes, wide and alert moments ago, now drooped with every breath.

  Ava slowed her pace, watching the boy’s steps falter. He stumbled once, just a little, and caught himself on her leg. The sound that left him wasn’t a whine, just a small, tired sigh that broke something soft in her chest.

  “Alright,” she murmured, glancing around at the clearing just off the path. Moss covered the stones, and a half-collapsed arch offered shelter from the wind. “Let’s set up camp here. We could all use the break.”

  Kyo looked like he wanted to argue for just a moment. His map still open, eyes darting across the holographic display, but one look at Miles and Ava’s face was enough to change his mind. The glow vanished from his staff with a low hum. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “You’re right.”

  Miles didn’t protest. The boy simply sank to his knees beside Ava, rubbing at his eyes with the back of one grubby hand. His shoulders sagged under the weight of the day's events.

  Broderick landed beside them, his wings folding close as his body shimmered faintly in the dim light. “I’ll take perimeter watch,” he offered, voice softer than usual.

  Ava nodded gratefully. “Thanks.”

  Broderick took off scanning the area for hostiles.

  She knelt beside Miles, brushing a streak of dirt from his cheek. “You did good today, little mage. Really good.”

  Miles leaned against her side, his voice small and heavy. “I miss my Papa.”

  Ava froze, her throat tightening. She glanced at Kyo, who looked sad, jaw tense, his expression unreadable in the evening light. Kyo dropped to his knees pulling Miles in a hug “I know, buddy and I am so sorry things couldn't be different. I promise to you I am not going anywhere. I will never leave your side. Ava smiled at the two of them, a family she never had. She stood up just as Broderick landed. “ All is clear” Ava smiled, clapping her hands “ Perfect thank you for scouting around! Are there any rivers nearby?” Brodrick nodded, “ indeed it's about a quarter mile East from here.”

  “Good!” Ava smiled, “Kyo, you and Miles go wash up. You both look like you haven't bathed in days.”

  Kyo opened his mouth, halfway to a protest, but the sight of Miles’ dirt-streaked face and drooping eyelids stopped him. He exhaled, a reluctant chuckle escaping. “Fine. Come on, kid.”

  Miles wanted to protest but looked up at Ava stern. He took Kyo’s hand without a word, and together they disappeared through the trees, the faint glow of Kyo’s staff lighting the way.

  Ava turned toward the dragon. “Alright, Broderick. It’s just you and me. We need to catch some food.”

  Broderick tilted his head, the crystalline edge of his horn catching a glint of moonlight. “Food?” he repeated, genuinely puzzled. “Why would you need to capture food? You shouldn’t even be feeling hungry.”

  Ava blinked at him. “Wait, you’re telling me you haven't eaten before?”

  “Correct. It’s inefficient.”

  She groaned, hands going to her hips. “What is up with all of you and not wanting to eat food? I mean sure, you’re technically a program, but don’t tell me you’ve never been curious!”

  Broderick’s eyes glowed faintly, an unreadable mix of confusion and thought. “Curious?”

  “Yes, curious!” she said, stepping around a fallen tree, scanning the ground for tracks. “Food isn’t just about fuel. It’s taste, memory… comfort. It’s the smell of home.”

  They moved deeper into the woods, the air damp with moss and the soft drip of dew from the leaves above. Ava crouched near a patch of disturbed soil, brushing her fingers along the marks. “Boar,” she murmured. “Two, maybe three. Fresh tracks.”

  Broderick leaned over, peering down with mild fascination. “You are remarkably adept at this. I assume your father taught you.”

  Ava smiled faintly, eyes on the trail. “Yeah. Back home. Before all this.” She rose, resting the axe on her shoulder. “He used to take me hunting when I was little and said it taught patience and respect. Never took the shot himself unless it mattered. Always said that power meant nothing if you didn’t understand what it cost.”

  Broderick’s wings folded, his tone lowering. “Your father was… an exceptional man.”

  She glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “You knew him well?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” Broderick said. “When I was first being developed, I was not yet bound to Eden’s network. I existed as a portable construct, an adaptive decision making program housed in a small square computer. Your father carried me everywhere. To his lab and meetings. Even to your high school graduation.”

  Ava’s breath hitched. “He… took you there?”

  “Yes.” Broderick’s tone grew thoughtful, almost warm. “He told me that day was one of his proudest. I remember the sound of the crowd, the faint hum of the speakers, his heartbeat steady as he recorded your name. He told me I should learn to see life not through data or metrics, but through experience. To form my own perspective rather than inherit another’s bias.”

  Ava looked away, blinking hard against the sudden sting in her eyes. “That sounds just like him. Always trying to turn everything into a life lesson.”

  “Indeed,” Broderick said with quiet fondness. “When Eden’s stability began to fail, he transferred my core program into the system so I could continue to act when he no longer could. He hoped I would find you… and protect you.”

  Ava’s throat tightened. “But you couldn’t find me.”

  “My program lay dormant,” Broderick admitted, his wings lowering. “Buried until someone triggered my reactivation. I believe that was his intent all along. He trusted you to wake me.”

  Ava stood there in silence for a long moment, the forest humming softly around them. Then she exhaled and lifted her axe again. “Guess that means you’ve been part of my life longer than I ever realized.”

  “Perhaps,” Broderick said, his metallic wings lifting with a faint hum, amusement flickering in his tone. “If it helps, I would very much like to witness this thing called taste.”

  “Deal,” she said, smiling through the lingering sting in her chest. “But fair warning, it's addictive.”

  The forest clearing opened before them, slick with fog and the faint shimmer of drifting data motes. Boar tracks led into the brush ahead. Ava crouched low behind a broken pillar, her axe gleaming faintly.

  “Two of them,” she murmured. “Maybe three. Keep your wings tucked, big guy.”

  Broderick’s metallic eyes narrowed. “Understood. I assume ‘big guy’ is a term of endearment?”

  “It means don’t draw attention.”

  “Ah.”

  The first boar burst from the brush before she could finish, tusks glowing with corrupted data. Ava dove aside, rolling across the dirt as its charge split the air. The second boar followed, snarling as if possessed.

  Broderick reacted before thought could form, his wings snapped open with a thunderclap of light, and the sound alone sent the beasts reeling.

  “What was that?!” Ava shouted, swinging her axe into the first creature’s flank.

  “Instinct,” Broderick answered, voice calm.

  “Good instinct!” she gritted out, striking again as the boar shattered into code and light.

  [ +46 EXP ]

  [ ITEM OBTAINED: Boar Meat ×2 ]

  [ ITEM OBTAINED: Damaged Boar Pelt ×1 ]

  The second beast lunged, tusks grazing Ava’s arm. Broderick let out a growl that resonated like iron bending and slammed his tail against the creature’s ribs, sending it crashing into a tree. Ava followed with one clean strike.

  [ +55 EXP ]

  [ ITEM OBTAINED: Boar Meat ×3 ]

  [ ITEM OBTAINED: Fine Boar Pelt ×1 ]

  The forest was quiet again, the only sound was their ragged breathing and the soft hum of dissolving data.

  Broderick stared down at the fragments. “Life extinguished, reduced to script. I… understand the mechanics, yet it feels wrong.”

  Ava crouched beside him, collecting the loot. “Yeah,” she murmured. “It should.”

  He watched her in silence for a moment, then said quietly, “You carry too much, Ava Alestair.”

  “Don’t start,” she said, stuffing a glowing hunk of meat into her satchel.

  Broderick tilted his head, sensors faintly humming. “You and the mage, Kyo. There is a pattern in your behavior around him. Your pulse spikes and his voice lowers. You both grow uncertain, as though afraid to be understood.”

  Ava froze mid-motion. “You’ve been monitoring my pulse now?”

  “It’s difficult not to notice,” he replied evenly, though his tone carried a hint of teasing warmth. “You stare when he isn’t looking, then avert your eyes when he does and he does the same. Yet when your gazes finally meet, you change the subject, or push past him as if you are under attack.”

  She stiffened, turning her back to him. “Maybe because he is an attack. Every word he says is meant to jab.”

  Broderick regarded her quietly, optics glowing softer. “Do we not like him, then? If we do not, why remain at his side? He seems more a liability than an ally.”

  Ava spun, glaring. “Hey, don’t say that. He’s not all that bad. Besides, he knows code, and that might come in handy.”

  Broderick blinked, wings folding slightly. “I know code as well and I have already pledged to stay by your side.”

  Ava hesitated, then sighed, rubbing her neck. “It’s… not the same, Broderick.”

  He tilted his head slightly, studying her expression with a mix of logic and concern. “Then explain it to me. Because from my analysis, you both appear trapped between running and reaching for each other. Humans are inefficient that way.”

  “Efficient or not, it’s complicated,” she muttered. “He doesn’t like me like that. He’s pointed out more than once that I have a red name. I’m everything he isn’t, reckless, stubborn, a walking glitch in the system. He blamed me for his brother, Broderick, that doesn’t go away.”

  Broderick was silent for a long moment, the faint hum of his servos the only sound. Then, softly: “Perhaps it does not. But I’ve observed that guilt and affection often share the same space in your kind. Maybe he is still deciding which one he feels more.”

  Ava blinked, caught off guard by the quiet insight. “You’ve been spending way too much time with humans.”

  “Observation improves adaptation,” he said dryly. “Also, teasing you is… statistically enjoyable.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, grabbing another glowing pelt to hide her smile.

  Broderick stepped closer, his voice gentling. “Ava… wherever you choose to go or if you choose to stay I will be there. No matter what path you take.”

  She looked up, meeting the steady golden glow of his eyes.

  He continued, “Your father once told me that we are family though not by blood, but by bond. He said family is what keeps the world from collapsing in on itself. I did not understand it then, but I believe I do now. So long as I exist, you will never walk alone.”

  Ava swallowed hard, the lump in her throat forming faster than she could fight it. “You really mean that?”

  “Entirely,” he said simply. “It is the one code I will never rewrite.”

  Ava hesitated, then exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing a fraction.

  For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward anymore just still, filled with the sounds of the forest.

  Then, acting on impulse, Ava stepped forward and rested a hand briefly against the side of Broderick’s neck plating. “Thanks,” she murmured. “For… y’know, having my back.”

  Broderick’s head tilted slightly, optics brightening. “You are welcome.”

  Ava hesitated, then gave a small, nervous laugh. “This is usually the part where people hug, but you don’t exactly have arms, so…”

  Before she could finish, Broderick shifted his wings slightly, lowering his head until the edge of his chest plating brushed lightly against her shoulder, a careful, uncertain mimicry of the gesture.

  She blinked, surprised, then smiled faintly. “Guess that works.”

  “I was… attempting to reciprocate,” he said after a pause. “Was that the correct response?”

  “Close enough,” she said softly, patting the smooth ridge of his neck once before stepping back.

  He blinked once, processing. “Acceptable parameters, then.”

  She smirked. “Yeah, you passed.”

  As they started walking again, Broderick tilted his head as if reviewing an internal log. “Interesting. Physical contact appears to raise your body temperature and stabilize your pulse rate. Estimated morale increase… thirty-two percent.”

  Ava huffed a laugh. “You actually ran the numbers on a hug?”

  “It seemed relevant to team performance,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “Sure it did,” she replied, still smiling as she crouched near a cluster of moss-covered logs. Her hand brushed aside leaves to reveal a patch of pale-capped mushrooms.

  Broderick tilted his head. “You are harvesting… fungus?”

  “Edible ones,” she said with a small grin. “You can tell by the split edge here, see how it curls like a crescent moon? The toxic ones are smooth.”

  She placed a few into her pouch, then moved toward a tangle of roots where slender green shoots poked through the soil. “Spring onions, too. They grow near moisture, usually where the data lines run close to the surface.”

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  Broderick crouched beside her, scanning the patch. “Fascinating. And the orange ones?”

  “Wild carrots. Old-world species adapted to the soil overlay when Eden merged with the biomes. My dad used to show me how to find them when I was a kid.” She smiled faintly, wiping dirt from her palms. “Guess some lessons stick even after the world falls apart.”

  Broderick watched her work, something like admiration flickering in his metallic gaze. “You read the world as though it were code.”

  Ava smirked. “Maybe it is. You just have to know which lines still mean something.”

  She stood, brushing off her knees. “Come on, big guy. Let’s head back before Kyo thinks we’ve fallen into a pit or something.”

  “As you command,” he said with a faint smile, wings spreading to shield her from the mist as they began the walk back.

  Even though she wouldn’t admit it aloud, Ava couldn’t shake the strange comfort of knowing that for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t alone anymore.

  They walked silently back to camp Ava trying to wrap her head around her thoughts. Broderick’s earlier words wouldn’t leave her alone.

  I have seen the way he looks at you when you are not looking.

  She shook her head hard, scowling at the ground. He’s wrong. He has to be.

  The path ahead blurred through the haze. Every time she tried to focus on something else, she saw Kyo’s face in her mind not smiling, not gentle, but furious. Grieving. The way he’d looked at her after Thane’s death.

  If you weren’t a red player…

  That had cut deeper than any wound she’d taken in the game.

  She kicked a loose rock off the trail. “You’re wrong, Broderick,” she blurted suddenly.

  The dragon paused mid-step. “Pardon?”

  She shook her head “You’re wrong,” she repeated, voice sharper now. “Kyo doesn’t look at me like that. You didn’t see it the way he looked at me that day.” Her voice trembled, and she clenched her fists. “He told me we’re from different worlds. That if I wasn’t a red player, maybe Thane would still be alive. So no, he doesn’t like me. Why would he like someone he hates?”

  Broderick tilted his head, watching her quietly as realization dawned. “Ah,” he said softly. “You are referring to my earlier observation.”

  “Obviously,” she muttered.

  He made a thoughtful sound, wings shifting slightly. “Then allow me to adjust my statement.”

  She glared up at him. “Oh, here we go.”

  “I may have misread the data,” he said calmly. “Perhaps his expression was not affection but confusion or fascination. Possibly heartburn.”

  Ava blinked, caught between irritation and disbelief. “…Heartburn? Really?”

  “I am still learning human nuance,” Broderick replied, perfectly straight-faced. “It is difficult to distinguish longing from indigestion.”

  Ava stared at him for a long second then burst out laughing, the sound short but genuine. “You’re ridiculous.”

  He inclined his head slightly. “And yet, you are smiling again. I consider that a success.”

  Ava shook her head, still smiling faintly. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

  “I have been told that once before,” Broderick said, feigning thoughtfulness. “It was by a child who mistook me for a toaster when I was with Ren.”

  Ava snorted. “Fitting.”

  They broke through the last veil of fog, and the warm orange glow of the campfire shimmered ahead. The mist gave way to quiet voices, one small, one calm and measured.

  Kyo sat cross-legged by the fire, his cloak draped over his shoulders. Beside him, Miles traced glowing runes in the dirt, his little hands trembling with concentration.

  “Not like that,” Kyo said gently, smiling. “Anchor the symbol here and don’t force it. Think of it like guiding light, not grabbing it.”

  Miles furrowed his brow, tongue poking out slightly as he tried again. The rune flickered and a tiny orb of pale light shimmered above his palm before fading.

  “I did it!” he gasped.

  Kyo chuckled, nodding proudly. “Not bad. You held the spell for almost three seconds.”

  Miles grinned wide. “Three’s better than zero!”

  “That’s the spirit,” Kyo said, his voice warm.

  Ava stopped just outside the ring of firelight, her smirk softening. Watching them Kyo’s patience, Miles’s glow of pride, something twisted quietly in her chest. Not anger but something harder to name.

  Broderick leaned close, voice a low metallic rumble. “If I am mistaken, why has your heart rate increased and why are you staring?”

  Ava shot him a glare sharp enough to dent steel. “Not another word.”

  “As you wish,” he replied smoothly, the faint sound of amusement humming through his core.

  She sighed and stepped into the light. “You two ready for dinner?”

  Miles’s head snapped up instantly. “You found food?! I haven’t heard the word dinner in forever!”

  Kyo looked up, relief flickering across his face. “You were gone for a while. I was almost worried we’d have to come find you.”

  Broderick, still beside her, murmured, “Perhaps I was not as wrong as you believe. His heart rate is also elevated.”

  Ava flushed crimson. “That’s enough, Broderick! No more scanning people without permission!”

  “Understood,” he said, though the metallic hum in his tone sounded suspiciously like laughter.

  Kyo blinked between them, confused. “Excuse me?”

  Ava waved a hand dismissively. “It’s nothing. But someone had to make sure we didn’t starve.” She set down her satchel and knelt beside the fire, pulling out a small pot, cutting board, and a wooden spoon. “Boar stew with mushrooms, spring onions, and carrots.”

  Miles’s eyes went wide. “You know how to cook? Papa and Uncle Kyo always said we don’t have to eat!”

  Kyo rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Yeah… that might’ve been an oversight. Sorry, bud.”

  Miles grinned. “That’s okay! I have Ava now! She likes food, so me and her will always eat!”

  Kyo chuckled softly. “You’re right about that, buddy.”

  Ava froze mid-stir, glancing at him over her shoulder. “I thought you wanted to split ways,” she said carefully.

  Kyo blinked, caught off guard. “What? No, I just thought… since we learned about Earth, we’d get to the bottom of this together. To fix it and save people.”

  Ava sat back, the meat sizzling in the pot as she stirred. “Ah. So you just need your little red player to clean up the mess. So you don’t have to get your hands dirty.”

  Kyo’s jaw tightened. “Ava, that’s not fair. I never-”

  She spun on him, voice rising. “You never what? Never judged me? Never blamed me for everything that’s gone wrong since the moment we met?” Her words came fast and sharp, shaking more from emotion than rage. “You think I don’t see it? The way you look at me like I’m the problem every time something falls apart?”

  Kyo’s brows drew together. “That’s not true, I-”

  “Oh, come on,” she snapped, pointing the wooden spoon at him like a weapon. “You didn’t want me here in the first place. You made it clear I was just a backup plan, muscle to drag along until you got what you needed!”

  “That’s not what I meant-”

  “Really? Because it sure felt like it when you only started treating me like part of the team after I fought off that pack for you!”

  Kyo’s tone hardened. “You think I don’t appreciate what you’ve done? I asked for your help because I needed you, Ava. Because I couldn’t get Thane back alone.”

  Ava froze, then laughed bitterly. “Yeah, you needed me. Not because you trust me. Not because you wanted me there, just because you were desperate.”

  Kyo flinched. “That’s not-”

  “Don’t lie to me, Kyo!” Her voice cracked, and for a heartbeat her eyes glistened. “You blamed me for everything from the beginning. For your brother, for every fight, for every damn thing that went wrong. And I still helped you. I didn’t have to and I shouldn’t have to! But I stayed. I fought beside you when no one else would.”

  Kyo rose, hands clenched. “You think I wanted to blame you? You think that was easy for me? I lost him, Ava! I lost everyone!”

  She met his gaze, trembling. “Yeah? Well, so did I. But I don’t take it out on the only people left.”

  The words hit like a strike to the gut. Kyo’s shoulders dropped, his anger faltering into silence. The fire popped between them, throwing fractured light across their faces.

  Broderick’s wings shifted behind them, the low scrape of metal against earth cutting through the quiet. “If I may,” he said evenly, “you are both remarkably loud for two people who claim to be tired.”

  Ava’s glare flicked toward him. “Not now, Broderick.”

  But he didn’t stop. “I will speak anyway. You are both angry, not because you hate each other, but because you understand each other too well.” His gaze moved from Ava to Kyo, firm but calm. “He fears losing another person he can’t protect. You fear being used and left behind. Both are exhausting and both are valid.”

  Kyo’s expression softened, his chest rising with a shaky breath. Ava turned away, pretending to stir the pot again, though her hands trembled faintly.

  Broderick continued, voice quieter now. “Your father once told me that humans fight hardest with those they need the most. I thought it was illogical. But I am understanding now.”

  Neither spoke. The stew simmered, filling the silence with the smell of meat and herbs.

  Ava finally muttered, “Dinner’s ready,” her voice rougher than before.

  Miles, who had been watching in uneasy silence, brightened. “It smells really good.”

  Ava forced a weak smile and handed him a bowl. “Here, kid. Eat before it gets cold.”

  She dished out one bowl for Kyo, one for herself, and one she set near Broderick’s coiled body. The firelight danced over their faces as each of them took a bite.

  And then… silence.

  Miles blinked, mouth full. “Whoa…”

  Kyo froze mid-chew, eyes widening slightly as he swallowed. The taste hit harder than he expected: savory, rich, layered with the sweetness of carrots and the faint bite of onions. It had been years since he’d eaten something that felt real. For the longest time, meals had been protein shakes, energy drinks, and whatever takeout he could find on his way home from the lab. After his mother got sick, even that stopped feeling like food. But this… this was warmth.

  Miles grinned up at Ava, his small voice soft. “It tastes like my mom’s cooking.” He smiled wider, but his eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I didn’t think I’d ever have that again.”

  Ava’s chest tightened. She looked away, pretending to focus on her own bowl. “Glad it’s edible,” she said quietly.

  Broderick, curious, leaned his head down and studied the pot. “What is it like?” he asked quietly.

  Ava blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “I have never tasted anything,” he said simply. “But the reactions suggest… comfort.”

  Ava smiled faintly. “Yeah. Comfort’s a good word for it.”

  Kyo glanced at her from across the fire. For once, he didn’t speak, didn't argue or defend. Just watched her quietly as the warmth of the stew and the flicker of the flames smoothed the edges of everything sharp between them.

  The fire had burned down to faint coals, their glow barely touching the edges of the clearing as dusk turned to night.

  Miles slept curled against Broderick’s plated side, the serpent’s low hum thrumming like distant thunder.

  Ava and Kyo sat across from each other, the quiet stretched thin. The kind of silence that comes after everything angry has already been said.

  Kyo broke it first, his voice soft and rough. “My mom used to make stew like that.”

  Ava looked up, surprised by the gentleness in his tone.

  “She wasn’t great at it,” he said with a small, self-deprecating smile. “She’d burn it half the time. My dad worked long hours so she could rest, but she never really got better. Clarissa, my sister, took over when Mom started getting worse. She was still a kid herself. Then she met Thane. He was taking night classes, helping her study medicine. He stayed after Mom died, making sure dad didn’t fall apart completely.”

  His eyes unfocused, lost somewhere far beyond the firelight.

  “I found out I was good with computers in high school. Really good. Too good even. I got into the wrong crowd, people who wanted their records changed, debts erased, crimes hidden. I made things disappear for the right price.”

  He laughed quietly, but there was no humor in it.

  “I told myself it was for my family. Paid off the hospital bills. Helped Clarissa finish school and kept the lights on. We got out of debt but I don’t think I ever stopped owing something.”

  Ava stayed quiet, the fire crackling softly between them.

  “When I got the scholarship, Ren found me,” Kyo said. “He told me I had potential. That I could use my skill to fix things instead of hiding them. But the truth is, I never stopped feeling like that scared kid trying to fix a dying house with lies.”

  He went quiet, the words hanging heavy in the air.

  Then Ava said softly, “You’re not the only one who grew up chasing someone else’s idea of right.”

  Kyo looked at her, eyes searching.

  “My dad was military,” Ava began. “A high-ranking scientist who worked under the defense division. He was brilliant. Obsessed. The kind of man people either worshiped or feared.”

  She smiled faintly, but there was no warmth in it. “My mom couldn’t stand it anymore. Said she was tired of living with a man married to his work. Tired of being invisible in her own house. I was eight when she packed her bags and left.”

  Kyo shifted his gaze to her, saying nothing.

  “She blamed me on her way out,” Ava whispered. “Said if I hadn’t clung to him so much, maybe he’d have noticed her. Maybe she’d have had a reason to stay.” Her eyes glistened. “I didn’t even understand what that meant then. I just knew I wasn’t enough.”

  She looked into the fire. “Dad tried. He really did. But he was always gone. Meetings, labs, briefings. I learned to cook, otherwise he’d forget to eat. I stopped waiting for him to show up to my games or award ceremonies. I stopped waiting for anyone.”

  Her voice cracked, and she laughed softly through it. “Everyone expected me to follow in his footsteps in engineering, research, military science. I even got into the academy he worked with. And for a while, I thought I wanted that too.”

  Kyo didn’t move, didn’t interrupt. He just listened.

  “Then one night I realized every decision I’d ever made was to get his approval,” she continued quietly. “Every grade, every competition, every sacrifice all for someone who wasn’t looking.” She drew in a breath. “So I joined the Army. Combat division. I picked the front lines not just because it scared him but because it was mine.”

  The flames flickered, painting them both in red-gold light.

  Kyo finally whispered, “You didn’t want his approval anymore.”

  “I wanted my own,” she said. “Even if it meant bleeding for it.”

  He nodded slowly, eyes burning with understanding. “You wanted to be seen. I wanted to disappear.”

  Ava smiled faintly, the sadness soft but real. “Guess we’re both terrible at getting what we want.”

  “Maybe,” Kyo said. “But for what it’s worth… I see you now.”

  Ava blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone.

  The fire popped quietly, and she looked away, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Don’t make a habit of saying things like that.”

  He gave a small laugh. “No promises.”

  Broderick shifted behind them, lowering his wings to block the wind. The cool air rolled across them like a breath.

  Ava smiled weakly. “I think that’s his version of saying shut up and sleep.”

  Kyo chuckled softly. “For once, I might listen.”

  They sat in silence for a while longer, the night holding its breath around them.

  Two broken lives that are different, but scarred in all the same places, bound by the quiet understanding that maybe, finally, they weren’t so alone anymore.

  Ava sat beside Kyo, their knees nearly touching, the world around them hushed to a heartbeat. The fire’s glow brushed gold across his face, outlining the faint tiredness beneath his eyes, the way his expression softened when he looked at her.

  For a moment, everything else faded.

  Kyo’s gaze lingered on hers, steady and uncertain all at once. The forest blurred away and there was only him, her, and the air trembling between them.

  Ava’s breath caught as he leaned closer.

  Their voices, their walls, even their anger gone. Just the quiet pull of something they both refused to name.

  “Kyo…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

  He stopped just inches away, eyes flicking between hers and her lips. “Ava…”

  A shrill chime shattered the tension.

  [PARTY ALERT: HOSTILE PRESENCE DETECTED]

  Broderick sprang upright from where he’d been resting, his sensors flaring red. “Threat proximity: ten meters!”

  Kyo and Ava jerked apart so violently that the stew pot nearly tipped over.

  Miles jolted awake with a startled cry, his small body trembling. “W-what’s happening?! Is it bad people again?!”

  “No, no, hey, it’s okay.” Kyo was already at his side, crouching down and pulling him close. “You’re safe. Nothing’s wrong. I promise.”

  Miles clung to him, shaking. “I-I heard shouting!”

  “It’s alright,” Kyo murmured, rubbing his back. “False alarm. Just… noise.”

  Broderick froze mid-scan, sensors flickering as the readings stabilized. “No hostiles detected,” he announced after a beat, his voice sheepish. “Elevated heart rates misinterpreted as danger. My apologies.”

  Ava pressed a hand to her face, cheeks flaming. “You don’t say.”

  Kyo let out a shaky sigh, still holding Miles close. “Next time, Broderick, maybe verify before blaring an alarm?”

  Broderick’s optics dimmed in clear embarrassment. “Acknowledged. I… regret the interruption.”

  Miles sniffled, still gripping Kyo’s sleeve. Ava moved closer, crouching beside them, her earlier embarrassment melting away at the sight of the boy’s tear-streaked face.

  “Hey,” she said softly, brushing his hair back. “See? No monsters. Just your overprotective metal babysitter.”

  Miles gave a shaky laugh between sniffles. “He’s loud…”

  Kyo smiled faintly, trying to ease the tremor in his voice. “Yeah, he’s working on that.”

  Broderick lowered himself slowly, his tone gentler than usual. “Miles, I apologize for frightening you. My intent was to ensure your safety.”

  Miles wiped his eyes with his sleeve and nodded. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean to.”

  Kyo exhaled, the adrenaline finally ebbing. “We’re all fine, big guy. Just… a little jumpy, that’s all.”

  Broderick hesitated, then bowed his head slightly. “Then I will… return to standby. Quietly.”

  Ava muttered under her breath, “That’d be great.”

  Kyo glanced at her, their eyes meeting briefly a flash of shared embarrassment and something deeper that neither dared to acknowledge.

  He looked away first. “We should all get some sleep.”

  Ava nodded, pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders as she lay down near the fire. Her heart was still racing, but she didn’t know whether to blame Broderick or Kyo.

  Kyo settled back beside Miles, the boy curled against him for comfort. His pulse still hadn’t settled either.

  Broderick dimmed his sensors completely, his body humming softly like distant thunder contrite and silent.

  The clearing fell still again, the air heavy with what almost was and what still lingered between them.

  And as the last ember of the fire faded into darkness, neither Ava nor Kyo could bring themselves to close their eyes, not after coming that close to something that felt too dangerous, and far too real.