That morning, inside the main operations room of the base, Dr. Varn stood in front of the command screen, his expression tense. He glanced at the blank monitor before turning sharply to the soldiers lined up.
"Where are Peterson and Exter?" he asked coldly.
One of the officers exchanged a glance with another, then replied, "Weren't they with us last night, sir?"
Dr. Varn narrowed his eyes. "Find them. Now."
Elsewhere, far from the base, in a small abandoned café on the outskirts of the city, Lirael sat quietly in a corner. Her fingers clutched the glowing pendant around her neck as she stared out the dusty window. Her thoughts were tangled, heavy.
The tomboy girl—hair tied back, wearing a worn black jacket—sat down beside her, sipping from a bottle of water.
"I don't know your name yet," the girl said with a slight smile.
Lirael turned slowly. "I'm Lirael. And you?"
The girl extended her hand. "Rhea."
They shook hands.
Lirael looked at her, hesitant. "Thank you... for helping us back there."
Rhea nodded. "I used to be part of that base too. But once I found out what they were really doing... I ran."
Lirael paused. Her gaze sharpened. "Do you know what they're actually planning?"
Rhea stared out the window, her voice low. "More than you can imagine."
Rhea leaned on the table, pointing toward Taren with a slight tilt of her chin.
"He has an older brother… a military officer. It's a long story. His name—"
Before she could finish, the loud rumble of a jeep engine echoed from outside, pulling everyone's attention. The vehicle screeched to a stop right in front of the café.
Everyone inside stood up, tense.
Lirael peeked out the window. "Is that… military?"
They all rushed outside.
The jeep door swung open. Two figures in black uniforms stepped out. The first, Exter, pulled off the hood covering his face. The second figure followed behind, and slowly removed his hood as well.
Silence fell.
Taren stepped forward, eyes wide. "...Brother?"
Peterson stared back at him.
The air between them thickened with quiet recognition.
They looked alike—the jawline, the sharp eyes, the shape of their brows. But their presence was different. Peterson was cold and unreadable. Taren, mischievous and full of fire.
"Peterson… and Taren," Lirael whispered.
Two brothers. Two pieces of the same story—split down different paths.
Peterson glanced at Lirael for a second. "We need to talk. All of us. Right now."
Taren narrowed his eyes, then gave a bitter smile.
"There's nothing to talk about," he snapped. "You and Dad are the same. Cold. Controlling. Sacrificing people like it's nothing."
Peterson stayed silent, though his jaw clenched slightly.
Riven, leaning against a nearby post with arms crossed, chuckled dryly.
"So the mysterious military boy does have family drama," he said, half-mocking. "I thought you were just some emotionless alien-blooded robot."
Elior shot Riven a glance, signaling him to hold back, but the tension had already spread through the group.
Peterson looked at Taren. "I didn't come here for him. I came because... I started remembering. And it matters."
"You're late," Taren said coldly. "We don't need you."
Rhea stepped between them, trying to ease the heat. "Hey... we're all here for one reason: survival. If we're gonna throw past grudges around, save it for later. Right now, we need a plan."
Peterson slowly nodded, then turned to Lirael.
"I know what Varn is planning. And I know... why we were the only ones who survived the Resonance."
The group fell into silence.
"If we don't move now, the next wave could mean the end of everything."
Lirael stood silent, her eyes sharp as if trying to grasp the meaning behind Peterson's words. But before she could speak—
WUUUUUNG... WUUUUUNG...
The roar of a helicopter grew louder, rapidly approaching.
Everyone immediately looked up at the sky.
Exter moved quickly. "Inside! Now! Everyone, get inside and hide!"
Taren, Elior, Nyssa, Serin, and the others dashed into the old café they used as a hideout. Rhea pulled Lirael in last, quietly closing the door behind them.
Meanwhile, Peterson remained outside.
He leaned against the jeep they had brought, eyes fixed on the helicopter descending from above. The wind from the rotors fluttered his jacket, but he stayed calm.
Swiftly and subtly, he raised his hand—signaling a code toward the west. His movement was small, almost unnoticed by anyone unaware of what to look for.
Then he climbed into the jeep, started the engine, and drove west—just as the helicopter began its slow descent.
Inside the café, Kael peered through a curtain slit and nodded quietly. "He's baiting them. We're safe for now."
Riven scoffed softly. "That guy's insane..."
Lirael stared at the empty road through the window as the helicopter's sound faded away.
"…But he knows what he's doing," she whispered.
Elior looked at Lirael and Nyssa with a puzzled expression. "Where exactly are we going now? What's the plan?"
Nyssa added, her voice tense, "I'm still worried about Peterson. Can we really trust him?"
Rhea also spoke up, her concern clear, "He's too risky. We don't really know what he wants."
Taren sat silently in the corner, his eyes vacant, seemingly lost in thought, not joining the discussion.
Riven wiped his face roughly and looked at everyone. "We can't keep following some unclear plan. We need a safe place — somewhere the military or Dr. Varn can't reach us."
Lirael took a deep breath, scanning the group, then spoke firmly, "I agree with Riven. We need a place that's truly safe for all of us."
Veyra, sitting next to her, smiled faintly. "I have a place. My uncle Tyson lives south, near the ocean. There are some small cabins and sailboats there we can use to escape."
Everyone turned to Veyra, full of hope and curiosity.
"A sailboat?" Nyssa asked.
"Yes," Veyra replied. "It's far from the city and the military. My uncle isn't just anyone — he knows how to survive in remote places."
Lirael nodded. "Then that's our destination. We have to leave soon before they find us again."
Exter stared sharply, his voice cold but firm, "You can't leave without me and Peterson. We're part of this, and we'll make sure you survive… or at least hold on."
Riven sneered, mocking, "What use are you? This whole thing will fall apart if you get involved. You're just dead weight."
Lirael stepped forward, looking Riven with conviction, "Riven, I know you're skeptical. But I believe they'll protect us on the way there. They know Varn's tactics, and that's invaluable. Besides, Peterson wouldn't harm us—especially with Taren by his side."
Taren lifted his head, eyes sharp as he looked at Riven, "You don't know what we're capable of. Don't underestimate us."
Riven met his gaze, his voice softening, "Then prove it."
The tension hung in the air, but also a flicker of hope. They all knew this journey was dangerous, and only together could they survive.
That night, just as everyone was settling in to sleep, the café door burst open. All heads turned toward the entrance.
Peterson stepped in, his expression cold and firm. His voice was low, commanding, "Come with me. We have to move now."
Everyone snapped to attention, the tension in the room instantly rising.
"All the guards," Peterson continued, "they're dead. We're going to take the helicopter. Now—before they send reinforcements."
He glanced sharply at Serin, his eyes sending an unspoken message.
Lirael gave a slow nod. "We're in. This might be our only shot."
One by one, the others agreed, gathering what they could. The mission had begun.
"To the west," Peterson said simply. "That's where the helicopter landed."
Without wasting time, the group moved out together—ready to fight, ready to take control.
They moved quietly toward the helicopter landing area. Every step was careful, breaths held. The night was dark, with only the sound of crickets and the wind whispering through the silence.
As they reached the helicopter, they began to climb in, one by one, packing in tightly.
"This is too cramped," Elior muttered, trying to pull his knees up so he wouldn't press into Rhea beside him.
"I can't breathe!" Riven growled.
Peterson stood by the helicopter door, glanced at them, then spoke firmly, "No. This won't work. It's too tight. We're too many. We have to split."
He turned to Exter. "You lead the chopper group. Take Elior, Riven, Rhea, Veyra, and Nyssa with you. Fly south, stay low. We'll regroup at the safe zone."
Exter nodded without question.
Peterson then turned to the others. "I'll take the car. Lirael, Kael, Taren, and Serin, you're with me. I'll drive."
Lirael stared at him for a moment, then gave a quiet nod. Taren threw his pack into the back seat while Kael opened the front passenger door. Serin looked at the helicopter for a second, then turned and followed them to the vehicle.
"Move now. Don't stop unless it's absolutely safe," Peterson ordered, slamming the car door and starting the engine.
Two groups. Two vehicles. One mission.
The vehicle rumbled down the dark road, trailing beneath the helicopter that occasionally flickered through breaks in the clouds above. The engine's steady hum filled the silence, tension hanging in the air like a thread pulled taut.
In the back seat, Lirael clutched her pendant tightly, her gaze lost outside the window. The soft blue glow pulsed faintly from the stone, almost like it was breathing with her unease.
Taren sat beside her, silent, his eyes distant as he watched trees blur past outside. The road ahead seemed endless.
Peterson glanced at the rearview mirror—first at Lirael, then Taren. For a moment, it looked like he wanted to speak but thought better of it. His hands stayed firm on the wheel, eyes sharp.
"That pendant… why do you always hold onto it like that?" Kael asked from the passenger seat, breaking the silence.
Lirael didn't respond immediately. Her eyes stayed on the window. "I'm not sure. But when I'm scared or confused… it always feels like it's alive."
Taren turned to her, finally. "You think it's connected to the Resonance?"
She nodded slowly. "Maybe. But I also feel like… it's tied to who I really am."
Peterson glanced again in the mirror. His expression shifted just slightly—not as cold as usual. There was a flicker of something else… maybe guilt.
Serin, seated next to Lirael, gently took her hand. "If it's important to you… then we'll protect it together."
Lirael gave a faint smile and turned her gaze to the sky, to the helicopter carrying the rest of their group. The night was long, and the road ahead uncertain.
But one thing was clear—there was no turning back.
Suddenly—BOOM!!
A loud gunshot rang out from behind, the bullet striking the side of a tall building near the road. Cracks spread rapidly, and within seconds…
CRAAASSHHH!!
The building began to collapse toward the street!
Serin let out a small scream. Kael shouted, "Peterson!! Left!!"
Without hesitation, Peterson yanked the steering wheel to the left. The car swerved wildly, shooting through a narrow gap between falling debris. Dust and chunks of concrete flew through the air, nearly smashing the windshield.
Lirael clutched her pendant, eyes shut tight. Taren instinctively reached across to steady both Serin and Lirael from the sudden motion.
Peterson ducked slightly, his focus razor-sharp. "Hold on!"
The tires screeched, slipping slightly before gripping the pavement again. With a sharp turn, the car barely avoided the full impact as the building crumbled behind them, completely blocking the road.
THUUUDD!!
Smoke and dust swallowed the rearview mirror. Peterson glanced back briefly, then fixed his gaze ahead, face unreadable.
"If no one's said it yet… this guy drives like a maniac," Kael muttered under his breath.
Lirael opened her eyes, breathing heavily. But amid the tension, she caught a glimpse of Peterson from the side—his eyes weren't just sharp… they carried something deeper. A weight heavier than just being hunted.
The car sped on southward, cutting through roads that had fallen silent once again… for now.