The next morning arrived as usual, painful and aching, the dust scattered with the flow of work,

  Claire informed the group about Devon’s note and read it out. She repeated the last lines as some sort of slogan “Let us keep true to our mission. There is much work to be done. If not us then who ?” and those who could repeated after her.

  the Apostates were assigned to the former Tinkerers - Melissa, Trent and Baruch, they were drawing blueprints as to how they were going to demolish most of the old ruins.Melissa stabbed the blueprint with a grease-stained finger, her voice sharp as a serrated blade. “C4 here, here, and here—waste a gram, and I’ll shove the excess up your nostrils. These towers fall clean, or they fall on us. Understood?”

  Trent’s pencil snapped mid-sketch. Baruch muttered something about overkill, but Melissa’s glare silenced him. “Optimized isn’t a suggestion. It’s the difference between a controlled blast and a tombstone.” Melissa’s gaze drifted to Trent’s snapped pencil, the graphite dust pooling like ash. For a heartbeat, she was back in Brighton’s ruins, her brother’s hand slipping from hers as the tunnels collapsed. Too slow. Always too slow. She tightened her grip on the blueprint. “Baruch—double-check the charges. Trent… use a pen this time.”

  The Apostates volunteered taking turns to help the former tinkerers, now simply called engineers. “This is going to take more than a month. Maybe we should secure necessary things first” Melissa whispered to herself.

  While in the eastern quadrant where the bramble grew wild, Elara, Georg, Lyla and Roza were cutting their way into the heart of the place, “We need to find a mother stem, where everything starts.” Georg ordered, the others simply working through the silence and the occasional quips and jokes.

  Myrtle and Gonov were patrolling on top of the ruins, using their powered up eyesights from their former class, and the void’s upgrades, they were able to secure the whole of the seminary, even though it was quite big. They could see Claire and Natalie in the Command Post doing administrative work, Elara, Georg, Lyla and Roza through the bramble of the eastern quadrant, the Apostates and the Engineers, everything could be seen from the top. Myrtle squinted through her rifle scope, tracking a shadowmoth’s erratic dance. “Never thought I’d see the day you played optimist, gramps. What’s next? Smiling?”

  Gonov’s finger twitched on his trigger. “Chains don’t break themselves, kid. You think Devon waltzed in with a magic wand? We bled for this.”

  “Still. Feels like… hope.”

  “Hope’s a luxury.” He adjusted his scope, the crosshair settling on Claire’s silhouette below. “We decided to let go of Nikolas’ chains. Devon would agree. You know Devon has been with us for quite some time, me and Claire suspected him to be an ISB officer, yet, he never really betrayed us, we expected him to betray us during Georg’s mission, that’s why his weapons were rigged. Turns out Georg was his brother. Haha. What a turn of events, despite our suspicion, Claire decided to let him stay, it was the right decision, albeit he had to suffer tremendously.” Gonov looked off into the distance while saying this. “Old man, that’s more than all the words you usually say in a day.” Myrtle chuckled. “You must be optimistic as well.” Gonov grunted and replied with “I haven’t even passed 40 and you call me an old man. No one calls me old man or gramps except you. I must be too kind to you.”

  Myrtle simply giggled and went to the opposite side of the ruin. Gonov sneaked in a small smile as he watched over the whole camp.

  Veyra and Orris too were busy, they provided to the whole group their whole support walking around distributing water and food, asking if people need help, making sure people don’t overwork themselves. “We are yet to find our purpose, our meaning.” Veyra thought to herself. She was pushed into this role and yet she was doing quite well, she may be the most fervant believer in the Revolution. Orris too was hopeful, his stride showed he was happy, for the first time, even the apostates had never seen this side of him.”There is much to be done.” Veyra while grinning told Orris, Orris replied with the same “There is much to be done.”

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  Lapen and Lissa were still in the tents, after breakfast, they would stay there until the hazy sunlight was lowering in the noontime. Then Lissa insisted “ I want to help. Uncle Orris and Aunt Veyra can teach me what to do. Brother, let’s go do our part.” Lapen could only oblige his sister. He had never seen her with this much energy, she was always out of breath before coming here, always in one place.

  Veyra’s hands trembled as she passed a canteen to Lapen—not from fatigue, but the ghost of a censer’s chain. Once, she’d doled out blessings to purge-squads; now, rebel hands clasped hers in thanks. Orris lingered nearby, his scarred palms cradling a child’s salvaged doll.

  “For the girl,” he rasped, avoiding Lissa’s gaze. The doll’s button eyes gleamed, one missing, replaced by a shard of Void-tainted glass. Veyra’s fingers lingered on the doll’s missing eye. Once, she’d torn such trinkets from children’s hands during purges, declaring them “heresy.” Now, Lissa hugged it to her chest, oblivious to the shard of Void-glass winking like a star. Orris’ hand found Veyra’s shoulder—a silent anchor. “Purpose,” he murmured, as if reading her thoughts.

  “Not penance?”

  “Same coin,” he said. “Different side.”

  In the afternoon during lunchtime, Gonov alerted the people with a whistle, and shouted ,”Four randoms approaching the base, with cargo. Armed lightly.”

  The experienced fighters assembled quickly, ready to confront the ‘guests’. Gonov and Myrtle were ready from their posts as well.

  As the four randoms approached the base, they shouted “The Sewer Queen sends her regards.”

  Gonov gave a thumbs up to Claire who was waiting for the sniper to establish the claim. “They’re dressed as the homeless do, yet, are quite well-equiped for combat.”

  “Should we accommodate them ? What should we do ?” Claire asked the group

  The groups were dumbfounded except the usual leaders who would make the decisions. Veyra and Orris, also explained to the others what they could do.

  “Stay there while we decide.” Claire shouted back.

  With a murmur of arguments and discussions, the group decided that they would accommodate them. But soldiers will always be ready to strike.

  “You may come.” Veyra and Claire shouted back.

  As the four homeless people approached, the one at the front spoke “The Queen would like to sponsor you food for a year. Consider it a debt that Devon will pay with the favor.” The leader was a woman with a clear eye, every word she spoke she seemed to believe in them wholeheartedly. She handed a note to Claire. “With this we will leave immediately, this first package of food, water and materials is a gift. The rest which will come every week will be the exchange.” With that she didn’t even look back and the three others stood immediately and followed her. “You can decline, raise a flag on the Ruined Farmstead on the path towards here to decline.”

  As they blurred out of eyesight, everyone’s tension eased. Claire opened the note and it read “The favor seemed to be much more than I have done for you people, I believe in fair exchange, let this be my way of making it right. - Tasha / Sewer Queen”

  Veyra’s usual tone darkened “ She’s smart, and sharp.”

  “We will need her help for now. Let’s hope he words are true, that she wants fair exchange.” Claire replied.

  The tension hung in the air, everyone suspected the same thing but did not word it out.