The freight yard was colder than Brooklyn usually allowed.

The skyline shimmered distant and unreachable.
Air taxis buzzed high above the lower ruins, careful not to stray into the abandoned sectors.

Snow dusted the twisted steel cargo racks like forgotten bones.

Jahil Roze stood at the edge of a frozen rail line,
one hand resting on his shield,
the other loose at his side.

Across from him, Velira Velethorne shook ash and frost from her jacket.

Somehow, even half-destroyed,
she looked like she owned the place.

"You’re still carrying it?" Jahil asked.

Velira rolled her eyes.
"What, you thought I’d drop it off at a pawn shop?"

She pulled the relic core from her coat.
Silver. Spiral-etched.
It pulsed softly, like it was listening.

She looked at him,
and for the first time since the cathedral,
there was no snark in her voice.

"I asked you once already."
(Beat.)
"You didn’t answer."

"I heard you the first time."

"Then why didn’t you say anything?"

"Because saying it makes it real."

The relic pulsed again.
A cryo-blue surge rippled through its casing.

Jahil’s internal system flickered in response.

[C.O.R.E.] – Residual compatibility detected
Sync potential: 87%. Phase-lock recommended

Velira looked down at the pulse.
Then back at him.

"...Not this again."

"Still interested," Jahil said quietly.

"Should I be flattered or concerned it’s trying to elope with my bodyguard?"

"You sound jealous."

Her mouth opened, then closed.
Her eyes narrowed.
Her ears went slightly red.

"W-what?! I am not—Why would I—It’s a rock, not a rival!"

"Didn’t say it was."

"You implied it."

"You confirmed it."

Thanks for reading this far — the frost’s just getting deeper.