For the first time in what felt like weeks, the day belonged to silence.
No gunfire, no collapsing steel, no molten roars from Rift-born nightmares. Just the Hollow Plains stretching wide and cracked beneath a bruised-red sky, and the ruined farmhouse cellar that had become their refuge.
Ethan sat at the cellar door, the faint wind tugging at his hair. Beyond, the scorched fields whispered under the breeze, their broken furrows glowing faintly with Rift scars. This was a world undone, but it was still standing.
Behind him, laughter broke the quiet.
It was morning and Travis was back on his feet.
Still pale? Yes, with the look of someone who’d burned his Awakening almost dry, but Travis was alive and stubborn as ever.
He crouched over a scavenged pot set on a jury-rigged fire pit, stirring with a broken wooden spoon with a serene look of enjoyment on his face. The smell of roasted grain and canned meat drifted through the cellar.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, his voice cracking but playful, "the apocalypse has not beaten Travis Keene".
"Hehe, tonight’s menu is gourmet mystery stew with actual seasoning," he grinned with a proud look on his face. "Thank you very much, you may clap now."
Jonas, lying back against the wall with his ribs freshly bandaged, raised an eyebrow as he stared at the food dubiously. "If it kills me, I’m haunting you."
Travis grinned. "Don’t worry, champ, I put extra love in your portion. And by love, I mean salt, because apparently flavor is dead and only I remember it."
Kara snorted, sharp but genuine.
Holt, as always, remained focused, checking and rechecking his rifle at the edge of the cellar almost like he was still stuck in that godforsaken city and running for his life, but the faintest ghost of a smile pulled at his lips.
Even Mira chuckled under her breath.
For one fragile moment, it felt almost normal. Almost human.
After they ate, Travis insisted on taste tests, urging them to rate his cooking only to brutally mock Jonas when he grudgingly admitted it wasn’t awful.
But it was not all beans and rice though. After feeding them, the medic turned Awakener turned serious.
He laid his hands on Reid first. Golden threads of Vital Surge glowed faintly through Travis’s palms, seeping into Reid’s fevered skin as he healed him. Having slept to properly recover his stamina and mana, he could use his special ability again.
Within minutes of his healing, the captain’s breathing steadied as the tremor in his hands visibly lessened.
"Don’t expect miracles," Travis muttered, sweat beading on his brow. "But you’ll live to boss us around tomorrow".
The others smirked, still amazed at how much Travis’s ability meant to the team as Reid gave him the smallest of nods. "Good enough."
Jonas’s turn came next.
His stubborn muscles resisted the healing at first, but Travis pressed harder, golden light flaring. Jonas grunted, jaw locked, until the pain eased into something dull and bearable.
"Feels like you jammed fire into my bones," Jonas muttered.
"Compliments will get you seconds," Travis shot back, though his shoulders sagged with exhaustion.
Even Ethan received a touch of healing where the gauntlet had strained tendons too far, he’d truly strained himself during the chase and escape. And for the first time since the ambush, the team breathed without wincing.
Earlier in the morning, after waking up, they had an unanimous decision to have a day’s rest to recover from the exertions of escaping the city.
And since there was no immediate threat to their life in the barn, they had the luxury to afford staying in one place.
As dusk approached, painting the plains in deeper crimson, Mira slipped outside, her figure quiet against the skeletal barn frames. Ethan followed her, sensing the weight in her steps.
She didn’t look at him at first, her eyes fixed on the horizon. But then she exhaled, and smiled.
"I ranked up," she said softly.
Ethan blinked. "You mean... F Rank? When?"
"Last night." A faint smile touched her lips, fragile but real. "It wasn’t loud. No fireworks. Just... quiet, like me."
Ethan quietly studied her, the way the wind stirred faintly around her hair as if echoing her words. "Doesn’t matter how it happens," he said. "What matters is you did. F-Rank means you’ve grown stronger."
"Strong enough?" she asked.
He met her gaze. "Strong enough that I’m glad you’re with us."
She didn’t know why he told Ethan first before the others, maybe it was because he kept watch last night when it happened, but she just did it.
After, the silence stretched between them, comfortable, the plains humming with low wind. Mira’s smile lingered longer this time.
By nightfall, the cellar was warmer, filled with the quiet hum of human voices instead of screams. Nothing had attacked them throughout the day, and by nightfall, they were all in a good mood.
Travis bullied Kara into admitting his stew was edible, while Jonas and Holt exchanged sparse but steady words about the path ahead.
Travis wondered if that scout could even make a joke. He was always found whenever and wherever the serious conversations were being had.
Mira rested near the door, her eyes half-closed, letting the wind stir faintly in the stale air.
Ethan leaned back, his gauntlet dissolved, the Wheel pulsing faint but calm behind his eyes. For the first time in days, he allowed himself to relax.
The cellar dimmed, the faint light of the fire catching the hard lines of his face. He leaned against the wall for balance, but his gaze was sharp, steady, cutting through the quiet.
"Rest time’s over," he said.
His voice was low and firm, a command without needing to shout.
The group turned toward him.
"Tomorrow, we move," Reid continued. His eyes swept across them, one by one. Then he exhaled, steady but heavy.
"But tonight... let’s talk".
The cellar grew still, the fire crackled. And Ethan felt the shift, the quiet before truth.