Silence lingered in the room, until Madison broke it.
"So… CORE ran the Selection just to find someone with the Presence Eyes?"
Micheal opened his mouth to respond, but Madison wasn't done.
"Sage," she said, turning toward him. "When was the last Selection held?"
Sage exhaled through his nose, then cleared his throat. "That's the thing, we don't know for sure. The last documented Selection was the one Micheal and Evander were part of. After that, everything goes dark."
Madison nodded slowly, piecing it together aloud. "Then CORE must've been looking for someone who could survive being thrown into the future. Someone whose body and mind could endure the distortion. Evander would've been perfect… if he had the Presence Eyes."
She paused, thoughtful. "But since he didn't, CORE had to provoke someone else during the Selection—force the power to awaken in another possible candidate."
Shirley let out a low whistle. "Damn. You're smart as hell, huh?"
Madison smirked. "Somewhat."
Tucker, leaning against the wall now, blinked slowly. "I stopped following halfway through that," he mumbled.
Doug finally broke the silence, his voice measured but uncertain.
"But Micheal… how do we know you're telling the truth? Yeah, you seem to know a lot about Choreees, about CORE, even the Selection but how can we actually trust you on this?"
Micheal's shoulders sagged. The question didn't surprise him, but it still stung.
"There's no proof," he admitted quietly. "Nothing I can show you. Not right now. I was pulled out of time, thrown into the future, and somehow survived. But unless CORE himself shows up and confirms it, I'm just… a guy with a crazy story."
No one responded.
The silence returned, thick and uncomfortable. The weight of everything they'd learned about Evander, the Selection, the nature of Choreees it pressed down on the room heavily.
Eventually, Sage glanced down at his watch, then rose to his feet.
"It's late," he said, voice low but firm. "You've all been through a lot today. Get some rest. Mascot can show you to the guest quarters."
ZE210 gave a cheerful salute, breaking the tension with his usual awkward energy.
"Right this way, guys! I've fluffed yer pillows!"
He turned and began trotting down one of the stone hallways, his feet clanking with each step. The others followed without a word. No one had the energy to argue or question anything else tonight.
They reached a small stone chamber tucked into one of the side corridors—modest, but cozy. One lantern flickered softly in the corner, casting long shadows across the five beds lined up on either side of the room.
"This'll be your room for now, Sorry it looks so bad, we never planned on using this room," ZE210 said, spinning in place before striking a dramatic pose. "Sleep tight, friends!"
With that, he spun on his heel, closed the door, and disappeared down the hallway, humming an off-key tune to himself.
Tucker collapsed onto one of the beds with a grunt. "Finally."
Shirley flopped down next to him. "I can't believe we're sleeping in an underground cave."
Madison took the bed by the window and lay on her side, her back to the room. "Let's just… get through tonight." While Doug unpacked his things out of his bag.
Micheal sat on the edge of his bed for a long time, staring at the floor. The weight of memory still clung to him like chains.
Evander. The fight. The power.
Sleep wouldn't come easy. Surely not.
A couple of hours passed after they'd settled in.
The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the lantern in the corner. Shadows stretched across the stone walls, dancing quietly with the flicker of the flame.
Beneath his blanket, Tucker's face was faintly illuminated by a small handheld screen as he played games in silence, the soft taps hidden under the covers. Shirley lay on his back, eyes open, quietly tracing the cracks in the ceiling with his gaze. Doug sat up against the wall, scribbling in a worn leather notebook—his diary, pages already swelling with thoughts. Madison hadn't moved much since lights out; she sat upright, her back against the headboard, legs tucked to her chest, eyes distant.
Micheal was the only one lying still, blanket pulled over his face. But his breathing was controlled so it was obvious he was awake.
Then, quietly, he sat up.
"Hey," he said, voice low but clear in the stillness. "Thank you."
The room shifted. Tucker paused his game. Doug stopped writing. Shirley turned his head. Madison looked over, confused but attentive.
Doug was the first to speak. "What are you thanking us for?"
Micheal smiled faintly, tired, but genuine.
"For sticking with me," he said. "You didn't have to. Any of you. I mean… Shirley, Cael could've hurt you really bad back there. And it could've been worse. I wouldn't have forgiven myself. All of you had every right to walk away, to leave me behind. I wouldn't have blamed you."
He looked down, brushing at his eye as a tear escaped.
"But you didn't. You stayed. You're still here. And I don't know how to explain it, but that means more to me than I can put into words."
Silence again, but it wasn't heavy this time. It was warm, full of love.
Shirley grinned, throwing a lazy arm behind his head.
"Man, this is just what friends do. You're stuck with us now, whether you like it or not. We're gonna finish this—together. CORE doesn't stand a chance."
The others smiled, one by one.
Madison gave a nod. Doug closed his diary with a soft thud and leaned back, letting his head rest against the stone wall. Even Tucker, now setting his device aside, gave Micheal a thumbs-up.
For the first time in a long while, Micheal felt safe.
The tension in the room melted. No more words were needed. Eventually, the sounds of quiet breathing filled the space as each of them drifted off—one by one—into peaceful sleep.
For tonight, at least, they weren't just strangers. They were a team.
NARRATOR
One thought lingered in all their minds. Nothing can go wrong from here. Surely?