The storm hit faster than Jahil expected.

One minute, the rooftops were clear.
The next, glyph alarms screamed across the district.

A Breakpoint had triggered.

He caught the flash out of the corner of his eye — a ripple in the air, almost like heat distortion.
But colder. Sharper. Wrong.

Velira yelped as the shockwave knocked her sideways into him.

Jahil caught her easily, planting his boots against the trembling ground.

"You good?" he asked, steadying her.

"Define good," she muttered, clinging to his jacket for balance.

Her heart hammered against his arm.

Jahil didn’t comment.
The last thing she needed was to realize how scared she actually was.

Overhead, glyph beacons flickered — failing to stabilize the Breakpoint field.

A shimmering dome of fractured light expanded across the far side of the plaza, swallowing half a block in seconds.

A few civilians were already trapped inside — silhouetted by pulsing distortions.

Velira (staring):
"That's... not normal, right?"

Jahil (grimly):
"It's a Breakpoint field."

Velira:
"I thought those were contained better than this."

Jahil:
"They used to be."

He guided her back toward the side streets, careful to avoid drawing attention.

For a moment, they moved in silence — the only sounds were sirens and the crunch of their boots in the slush.

Then Velira glanced at him, frowning slightly.

"You’re way too calm about this," she said.

"You’re way too loud about this," Jahil replied.

"Tch."

She pulled her coat tighter.

They passed a checkpoint barricade where agents scrambled to set up containment anchors.
Velira squinted at the glyph tech — recognizing pieces she wasn’t supposed to understand.

She caught herself staring too long and looked away.

Velira (quietly):
"You know, you're really bad at hiding."

Jahil (flatly):
"Not hiding."

Velira (smirking faintly):
"Right. Just a big, suspicious guy in the middle of an anomaly outbreak. Totally blends in."

(Beat.)

Velira (murmuring):
"Bet you’re used to it though. People looking at you like you're dangerous."

Jahil:
"I'm used to being dangerous."

They crossed into the old freight quarter.
The ruins stretched wide — broken rail lines, collapsed cargo depots.

No civilians here.
Only ghosts.

And in the center of it all —
A glimmer.

Velira (stiffening):
"There."

She pointed to a half-flooded loading dock.
A faint pulse of light — relic energy — flickered in the frost.

Someone else had been here recently.

Maybe still was.

Jahil moved first — silent, efficient.
Velira followed, clutching the stolen relic core tighter against her chest.

As they approached the dock, a shadow detached from the wreckage.
Clad in a black synthcoat, eyes gleaming with glyph-light.
Armed.
Waiting.

Velira (low whisper):
"You know, this would be a great time for some of that big scary hero stuff."

Jahil drew his cryo blade without a word.

Velira's heart thudded faster — for multiple reasons.

The man lunged.

Jahil met him mid-charge, parrying high and countering low with a brutal shield slam that sent the attacker sprawling into a snowdrift.

Another figure appeared — then another — more coordinated than street thugs, but sloppier than real operatives.

Velira (grinning):
"You know, you're kind of terrifying when you focus."

Jahil (dryly):
"Stay behind me."

Velira:
"Tch. Typical."

She moved anyway — circling carefully to the flank as Jahil kept the main force pinned.

Minutes later, three bodies lay frozen in the slush, their glyphweapons shorted and steaming.

The last attacker — a skinny runner — turned to flee.

Jahil let him.

The real threat wasn’t random scavengers.
It was whoever sent them.

Velira (panting):
"You could've killed them."

Jahil:
"No point."

(Beat.)

Jahil:
"Dead men don't answer questions."

They found the relay beacon tucked inside a broken crate — glyph-encoded, noble make.

Velira stared at it, pale.

Jahil studied her in the fading light.

"You stole more than a relic, didn’t you," he said quietly.

Velira flinched — just slightly.

"You brought a war with you," Jahil murmured.

(Beat.)

Velira (quietly):
"I didn’t mean to."

Jahil:
"Doesn't matter."

Velira:
"Then why help me?"

Jahil didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he reached out — careful, deliberate — and crushed the relay beacon in his gauntleted hand.

Sparks flared and died.

Jahil (flatly):
"Because if you’re going to burn everything down..."

(Beat.)

"...you might as well have someone strong enough to survive it."

Velira stared at him — really stared.
Her breathing slowed.

Something unspoken curled between them — fragile, still forming.

Velira (soft):
"Thanks, Frosty."

Jahil (gruff):
"Stop naming me."

They moved out before the next squad arrived — Brooklyn’s dying light stretching long shadows behind them.

Not quite allies.
Not yet friends.

But something had started.
Something neither of them would be able to run from much longer.