Mara pulled her threadbare jacket tighter around her shoulders as she drifted away from the group of recruits. The weight of the night pressed on her chest—the cold’s bite, the sharp tang of smoke still hanging from distant fires, and the echo of Kai’s jagged laughter ringing in her ears. She’d joined the gang for protection, for money, but now the lines between right and wrong felt tangled, and the darkness seemed to thicken with every step.

  She found herself by a small fire outside a crumbling storefront, where a handful of townsfolk had gathered. An older woman with silver-streaked hair and eyes like worn leather caught her glance and gave a small, knowing nod.

  “Cold night,” the woman said softly, patting the space beside her.

  Mara hesitated, then sank down, rubbing her hands together. The warmth seeped into her fingers, slow and stubborn, grounding her in the moment.

  “I’m Nadia,” the woman said.

  Mara’s gaze flickered to the faded cloth covering Nadia’s blind left eye, hair slipping over it like a curtain. Her missing left leg rested heavily on the ground, and the makeshift crutch at her side tapped a gentle rhythm.

  “You new around here?” Nadia’s voice was gentle, steady.

  “Just a few days,” Mara murmured, barely above a whisper.

  Nadia nodded, her gaze clear despite the scars. “You saw them tonight, didn’t you? The ones who run the gang. Hard to forget.”

  Mara swallowed, heart tight. “I… I don’t know if I want to be like that. Like them.”

  The older woman’s eyes softened. “You don’t have to be. There’s more than one way to survive.”

  Mara stared into the flames, watching them leap and twist. Her breath fogged in the cold. “What if I’m not strong enough?”

  Nadia’s smile was faint, but real. “Strength’s not just muscle or fire in your eyes. Sometimes it’s knowing when to hold on—and when to let go.”

  A small boy appeared from the shadows, clutching a battered teddy bear. Nadia reached out, pulling him gently into the circle.

  “This is Eli. Lost his family last winter.”

  Mara watched as the boy curled into Nadia’s side, seeking warmth and safety. Something tugged in her chest—a quiet ache, and a hope she didn’t dare name.

  The fire crackled, sending up a shower of sparks. Shadows danced across Nadia’s weathered face. For a moment, Mara let herself believe the city might not always be so cold.

  “You want to know about them?” Nadia asked, voice low, eyes reflecting the flames. “Kai and Zach.”

  Mara nodded, leaning in, curiosity edging past her fear.

  Nadia sighed, heavy with years. “I knew Zach first. When the world broke. We… we dated, I think. Mostly, I was his night partner.”

  Mara blinked, surprised. “Really? I thought he was all fire and fists.”

  A wry smile tugged at the corner of Nadia’s mouth. “He is. But I wasn’t much of a fighter. I kept the fires burning, patched wounds, made sure someone was watching when the others couldn’t.”

  Mara’s eyes widened. She tried to picture it—Nadia in the thick of things, holding the line in her own way.

  Nadia nodded as if reading her mind. “When the monsters came, Zach lost control. I did my best, but we lost many.”

  Her gaze drifted toward the dark streets where Kai and Zach had disappeared. “Kai came later—harder than Zach in some ways. Took over when Zach nearly lost himself. Together, they’re a force. Two sides of the same broken coin.”

  Mara’s hands curled into fists in her lap. “Sounds like you saved him.”

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  Nadia’s smile faded, tinged with sadness. “Maybe. Or maybe I just bought him time.”

  She looked away, voice rougher now. “But the night I lost my leg and my eye—that was when Zach first got his powers. The city was tearing itself apart. I was caught in the crossfire, trying to pull him back from a spiral he couldn’t see.”

  Mara reached out, hesitantly, fingers brushing Nadia’s sleeve. “I’m sorry.”

  Nadia shrugged—a ghost of a smile. “You survive. You carry the scars. And you keep going, because if you don’t, no one will.”

  She met Mara’s eyes, steady and unflinching. “The real battle isn’t just on the streets.” She touched her chest, softly. “It’s the one you fight inside yourself.”

  The fire crackled. A pause stretched. Mara let out a slow breath, feeling a new kind of resolve settle in her bones.

  —

  Footsteps crunched in the silence. Several older gang members emerged, faces drawn and weary. One stepped forward, bowing his head.

  “Sister nadia,” he said, voice rough but earnest. “We need your help at the school. We’ve done our best to hold it, but it’s too much. If that door fails, nothing will stop them from coming through.”

  Nadia’s jaw tightened. Her missing leg throbbed, the ache familiar—but she pushed it aside. “Show me,” she said.

  She rose, slow and deliberate, steadying herself on her crutch. Mara watched her, pride and anxiety twisting together. She saw the pain, the scars, the stubborn strength. She wanted to be like that—wanted to matter.

  “Hurry up,” Nadia called, her voice sharp, but not unkind.

  Mara scrambled to her feet, following as the night air bit at her cheeks. They threaded through the ruined streets, past boarded storefronts and shattered glass. Smoke hung thick, mingling with the damp, and every sound felt sharper, as if the city itself was holding its breath.

  —

  As they moved through twisting alleys, Mara caught glimpses of others moving in the same direction, tension mounting in every hurried step. Her heart pounded. She tried to steady her breathing, to focus on Nadia’s back ahead of her.

  At the school, a battered building barely holding itself together, a crowd clustered around a barricade: three levels of crooked wood and rusty nails, leaning dangerously. It looked ready to fall at the next hard shove.

  Distant shouts echoed, firelight flickered across sweat-streaked faces, and Mara’s skin prickled with nerves.

  Zach’s voice snapped out, slicing through the noise. “Why the hell can’t any of you get this right? We’re patching holes with junk, and none of it’s holding! What good are you if you can’t even build a damn door?”

  He slammed his fist against a plank. The barricade shuddered, splinters raining down. The gang shifted, eyes down, shoulders hunched.

  “Stop standing there like statues!” Zach barked, frustration bleeding into every word. “We need support here! If this door fails, the whole block’s exposed.”

  He wrenched at a main beam. It groaned, then cracked with a sharp, splintering sound. Zach swore, stepping back, his breath ragged, shoulders knotted tight.

  A guttural howl tore through the night—close, too close. Something heavy slammed the far end of the barricade. Planks rattled; dust sifted down. Everyone froze.

  Nadia pushed forward, swung herself over the barricade in one practiced motion. She landed hard, the jolt shooting up her body, and slammed her crutch against Zach’s bicep—hard enough to sting and echo in the tense air.

  “Stop touching things you’re just going to break!” she snapped, voice fierce and steady.

  Zach barely flinched, rubbing his arm with a wince. “Doesn’t do anything to me,” he muttered, but his eyes darted away.

  Kai lingered near a crumbling wall, half in shadow. He hesitated, swallowing, shoulders tightening beneath his battered coat. His gaze flicked from Nadia to Zach, then to the ground. Slowly, as if weighing the risk, he nudged a jagged stone with his boot. His hands stayed buried deep in his pockets; his chin dipped, as if he could shrink inside himself and disappear.

  He glanced up at the barricade, then down again, voice low but with a faint, wry smile at the edges: “Ooo, spike rock.” The words were almost too quiet for anyone to hear.

  Nadia’s glare swept over the group, sharp and unwavering. When her eyes landed on Kai, his posture straightened and he offered a quick, respectful nod—nothing mocking, just acknowledgment, even a hint of apology. Only when she looked elsewhere did he let his shoulders relax, letting out a held breath.

  As Nadia moved on, Kai sidled closer to Zach, careful to keep his voice low and his face angled away from Nadia’s line of sight. He grinned, lips twitching with barely suppressed laughter, and muttered, “You know what’s wrong with it? It don’t got no gas in it.” He snorted, a quiet chuckle slipping out as he nudged the broken barricade with his boot. “Seriously, you and doors, man.”

  Zach shot him a look, but couldn’t quite hide his own smirk. Kai covered his mouth, trying to stifle the laughter—glancing over his shoulder to make sure Nadia wasn’t watching. But she was. Her head turned, good eye narrowing.

  “Kai,” Nadia snapped, a warning in her tone—but there was something else under it, something almost like relief. For a second, her sternness faltered and the edge of her mouth twitched, betraying a flicker of pride. She shook her head, half exasperated, half grateful to see that the kid—even now—hadn’t let the dark swallow all his light.

  Mara caught every beat of it: the way Kai tried to honor Nadia, the way he still found room for laughter, and the way Nadia, for just a heartbeat, looked glad to see it. It struck Mara that maybe hope survived in these small, ridiculous moments. Maybe that was part of strength too—a refusal to let the world take every scrap of joy.

  She felt something shift deep inside—a warmth, stubborn and new, rising to meet the long night.