The first thing Gabriel noticed wasn’t the silence.

It was the repetition.

They passed a half-collapsed sign bolted to a crooked metal post. The lettering had long since peeled away, leaving only rusted outlines and a number: 23. Gabriel logged it without slowing, fingers moving with practiced ease. A minor detail. Possibly irrelevant.

But twenty meters later, they passed it again.

Same angle. Same rust. Same number. His boots crunched through the same scatter of broken glass, identical to before.

He slowed, double-checked his tablet. The path showed no deviation. No loop. Position tracking was steady. No zone echo. No terrain regression.

And yet...

“Leonardo.” he said quietly.

“I saw it.” came the Esper’s voice, low and steady. He didn’t turn around.

Gabriel’s frown deepened. He tapped twice on the display, saving the location markers. The UI flickered, then reloaded, placing them a few meters before where they’d just walked.

Ahead, a tree with charred bark came into view. Its split trunk twisted toward the road like a warning. Two shadows stretched from its base, one sharp, one faint.

The other hazy, and angled the wrong way.

He stopped, heart skipping once. “That tree has two shadows.” he murmured, more to himself than the others.

Leonardo halted, squinting ahead. “Smells like ozone,” he muttered. “Right before a lightning strike.”

Gabriel looked up. The sky was overcast, but the air was too still for a storm, just a charged heaviness pressing down.

“There’s no storm on the radar.”

Leonardo didn’t respond. He adjusted the gauntlet on his forearm and kept moving.

Cool and sharp-eyed, Kael caught up without a word. He didn’t bother checking the display. “Time slip, maybe,” he said. “Or identity bleed.”

Gabriel turned toward him. “Identity what?”

Kael didn’t repeat himself. Just gave a short nod toward the distorted terrain and resumed walking.

The term lingered, anchoring Gabriel in place.

Identity bleed.

He’d heard Sasha whisper it once, late at night, in a closed conversation with Natalia back at the Alliance base. He hadn’t asked what it meant. Sasha hadn’t explained.

It had sounded like something you weren’t supposed to talk about.

Still, he opened his journal and typed it in anyway. Bolded the words. Then added a note beneath:

With a soft snap, he closed the journal and hurried after them.

Whatever this was, it wasn’t just Hollow interference.

The zone itself was watching.

The ruins pressed closer. Crumbling walls leaned at odd angles, casting stretched shadows that twitched at the edges. The street beneath their boots cracked in places, metal beams jutting out like snapped ribs. Fog swirled heavier here, muting color until everything felt submerged.

Kael walked a few paces ahead, posture exact. He hadn’t spoken since the last relay ping. His scanner lit up occasionally, casting faint green-blue glows across his gloves. Now and then, he crouched to examine the ground, mapping energy lines or tracing soil fractures. He didn’t wait for input. He didn’t need it. He moved like someone following pre-written protocol.

From the corner of his eye, Gabriel tracked him, precise, silent, unreadable. He couldn’t tell if Kael was focused or simply keeping distant.

The thought gnawed at him, but he shook it off. They all had roles. He had his.

Then it hit.

A sudden, rolling heat, not atmospheric. Not natural. It slammed into his awareness like a heartbeat skipping sideways. His breath caught. Skin prickled beneath his suit.

He didn’t need to look.

Leonardo.

The Esper’s pace had slowed. Though silent, the energy pouring off him was unmistakable, intense and radiant, like sunlight cutting through storm clouds.

Mid-step, Gabriel faltered, boot skidding on gravel. His hand pressed over his chest, trying to ground himself.

Leonardo stopped but didn’t turn. “That wasn’t on purpose,” he said, low and steady. “Field’s unstable. I’m keeping it down as much as I can.”

Gabriel shook his head, catching his breath. “It’s not... It’s fine.” he managed, thinner than he liked.

Ahead, Kael turned just enough to notice. His eyes flicked between them. “Field’s sharpening,” he said flatly. “If it escalates, we’ll need a sync rebalancer.”

“There isn’t one nearby. I’ll manage.” Leonardo replied.

Kael didn’t argue. He nodded and returned to scanning. The glow from his gauntlet faded back into the fog.

Residual warmth lingered, close, but not harmful. Like standing near a fire that hadn’t fully caught.

“You always run this hot?” Gabriel muttered, trying to sound unaffected. Routine. Just observing.

Leonardo exhaled a half-laugh. “Not unless I’m around someone who reflects too well.”

Brows furrowed, Gabriel looked up. “Reflects?”

“You mirror things.” Leonardo said, turning toward him. “Not just sync pressure. It’s like… the more I suppress it, the more the field drags you in. Bounces everything back sharper.”

“So I’m an amplifier ” Gabriel said flatly.

“No.” Leonardo’s tone shifted, more serious. “You’re not a tool. You’re just tuned. Sensitive. Guides usually are. But you...” he paused, eyes narrowing, “you feel like a full circuit.”

Warmth crept up Gabriel’s neck. He looked past him, searching for Kael’s silhouette in the mist. Still there. Still focused. Grounding.

“That’s… a lot to hear.” he muttered, tapping his tablet.

Leonardo smirked, softer this time.

The heat eased, still present, but manageable. Gabriel focused on his tablet, using the readings as a buffer. The storm had passed, but its weight lingered.

He hadn’t stepped back.

Kael’s scanner blinked again. The soft tap of fingers against the gauntlet echoed through the fog.

For a moment, Gabriel envied that steadiness.

He wasn’t sure what unsettled him more, the moment of overload, or how easy it had become to endure it.

The voice came again, softer this time, thinner, as if trailing into the fog.

Gabriel froze, blood draining from his face. The voice hadn’t distorted like a comm echo. It was clean. Precise.

And it was his.

Not just the tone. The rhythm. The intent.

Like a version of him was already inside that building, waiting.

Leonardo’s posture shifted. His steps slowed, arm lifting in a quiet signal to halt. “Kael.”

“I heard it.” Kael replied, already pivoting in a smooth arc, sidearm drawn. “Sound origin: northeast quadrant. Secondary structure. No visuals.”

Gabriel’s throat tightened. “That’s not me,” he said quickly, defensively, like he needed someone to confirm it.

Leonardo gave him a sharp look, voice steady. “We know.”

The calm wasn’t detachment. It was control, measured, deliberate.

Kael resumed scanning, wristband pulsing with each subtle command. His expression didn’t change, but he edged closer. Formation tighter. Protective without comment.

Fingers hovering above his tablet, Gabriel didn’t log anything yet. He stared at the building. Its windows were clouded with gray film. Nothing moved.

The fog clung heavier around it, like it wanted their attention.

He closed his eyes. Focused on the chill on his cheek. The ache in his calves. Leonardo’s presence beside him, simmering but steady.

“It’s unsettling,” he said, voice low, “hearing something use you like that.”

Leonardo didn’t answer at first. Eyes forward, mouth a line. Then, quietly, “That’s how they work. They pick at what makes you hesitate.”

Gabriel nodded, swallowing the discomfort. It didn’t fade.

The wind shifted again, light as breath, but colder.

Kael finished marking sync points and rejoined them. “Path ahead’s clearer. Still no visible activity. Let’s move. We’ll set up temporary signal by the northern alcove.”

Leonardo nodded and motioned them forward.

Gabriel hesitated, then, as he turned to follow, a glint above the doorframe caught his eye.

In a shard of broken glass, he saw their reflections.

Three figures.

But the middle one lingered half a second too long.

He didn’t speak.

But as he walked, Gabriel opened his tablet and added a private note, not encrypted, not hidden. Just for himself.

They didn’t speak of the reflection.

They just kept walking.

They found the building half-buried under collapsed concrete and hanging wires. Most upper levels had crumbled into ash-colored heaps, but the lower floor held, barely. The interior had no doors left to close, but the structure offered shelter from the fog and flickering zone pressure. A place to rest. For now.

Tablet raised, Gabriel scanned the corners before stepping inside. “Walls are warped but holding. Field density’s lower in here. We can anchor a basic relay.”

Kael followed, sweeping his scanner across the ceiling. “Should hold until nightfall. I’ll map the perimeter. Distortion near the northwest window, could collapse.”

Leonardo said nothing. He moved past them, silent in motion, and checked the far exit, one boot nudging a half-scorched backpack. He didn’t look inside. Just flipped it shut again and set it upright near the wall. Casual. Respectful.

Gabriel found a dry patch near the main support column and set his gear down. The relay kit was already half-assembled. He focused on the task, fitting modules, syncing frequencies, testing pulse strength. The rhythm steadied him. His hands moved with quiet certainty, even as his thoughts tangled.

Leonardo returned without a word and crouched, placing a ration bar next to Gabriel’s elbow. The wrapper crinkled softly as it landed. A quiet offer.

Gabriel looked at it, then up at Leonardo, who gave a short nod and turned away.

No flirtation. No teasing.

Just, care.

Kael circled the room again, pausing to sketch a rough grid on his tablet. His lines were fast, clean. A perimeter pattern, maybe. Or a habit he relied on when silence grew too heavy.

The relay came to life under Gabriel’s fingers, its green pulse steady. Something about it grounded him. Here, at least, he could be useful. Here, his worth didn’t depend on loud voices or force. Just quiet precision.

Kael glanced over. “I’ll take first watch.”

Leonardo didn’t argue. He settled near the support beam behind Gabriel, one knee raised, back against the cracked wall. His presence was calm, weighty without being intrusive.

Gabriel unwrapped the ration bar with a steadier breath than before and took a bite, even though his stomach wasn’t asking for it. He chewed slowly, listening to the thrum of the relay and the wind scraping through shattered windows.

It wasn’t safe here. But it wasn’t unsafe either.

Somewhere between.

Somewhere they could breathe, if only for an hour.

He checked his log again and added two short entries: one for the relay’s performance, one for the structure’s integrity. He could have elaborated. But for once, he didn’t need the words to feel in control.

The shelter held. But comfort never came easily.

As the last traces of daylight slipped beyond the ruined skyline, a subtle shift swept through the zone.

The fog thickened, not just clinging to the ground but weaving between broken beams and fractured windows. It curled in slow spirals through wall gaps, reacting to nothing visible. The sky outside darkened unevenly, deep violet bleeding into cold silver in ways that felt wrong.

Back pressed against the column, Gabriel sat with his arms loosely folded. The relay pulsed nearby, casting a faint green glow on cracked concrete. The building had gone quiet. Too quiet.

Even Kael, usually a silent force at the perimeter, checked in less often.

Gabriel told himself it was fine. They needed space. Rest.

But part of him counted every minute Kael stayed outside, uncertain whether to worry or trust.

Leonardo sat a little apart, close enough to be felt. He hadn’t said much since the ration bar. He kept adjusting his wrist sensor, tapping the screen, jaw tight.

Gabriel knew that look, focused but frustrated. Leonardo wasn’t someone who liked waiting.

“You don’t have to keep watch,” Gabriel said finally, not looking up.

Leonardo exhaled, something between a sigh and a laugh. “I’m not watching. Just… not sleeping.”

Gabriel glanced sideways. “Can’t or won’t?”

Leonardo didn’t answer. Instead, he reached into his kit, pulled out a thermal blanket, shook it open, and shifted closer. “You’re shivering.”

Gabriel faltered. He hadn’t realized. But now that it was pointed out, the chill became harder to ignore.

“I’m fine.” he said, unconvincingly.

Leonardo didn’t argue. Just offered the blanket’s edge, careful not to touch more than necessary. Gabriel took it slowly, wrapping it around his shoulders. Their arms brushed, then settled.

No tension. No heat.

Just steady warmth.

They sat in silence, listening to wind through fractured concrete and the low hum of zone pressure. Somewhere distant, metal groaned, not falling, just shifting. Breathing.

Kael’s voice crackled through the comm. “North sector holding. No movement. I’ll extend perimeter check.”

Gabriel acknowledged it automatically, but his thoughts lingered on the stillness. Not absence, containment. As if the zone were pulling inward. Watching.

“I used to think the Hollow only tricked people with visuals.” he said softly.

Leonardo turned slightly. “They usually do.”

Gabriel hesitated. “But that voice… it sounded like me. Exactly like me.”

Leonardo didn’t joke or offer a theory. “That’s why we didn’t follow it.”

Gabriel nodded, leaning back against the wall, blanket higher on his shoulders.

“Feels like we’re in the eye of something,” he murmured. “Too quiet to be safe.”

Leonardo kept his gaze on the broken window. “It’s waiting. Zones like this… they watch more than they strike.”

Gabriel let silence settle. Then, quietly, “Back there. When the voice called out…”

Leonardo’s tone was firm. “It wasn’t you.”

“I know,” Gabriel said, eyes half-lidded. “But it sounded close enough to doubt myself.”

Leonardo didn’t offer comfort, but his words held weight. “Doesn’t matter what it sounds like. You’re here. That’s what counts.”

Gabriel glanced at him. “You’re oddly good at this.”

Leonardo smirked faintly. “Don’t spread it around. I’ve got a reputation to keep.”

The joke cut the tension. Gabriel’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but close.

He shifted slightly, the warmth of the blanket and Leonardo’s presence pressing in just enough to soften the cold.

The air felt looser. His shoulders dropped a little. The nearness wasn’t alarming anymore, just present. Steady.

His eyes began to close, the fog outside blurring into grey softness.

His last thought flickered through like a fading signal, faint, drowsy, and oddly hopeful.

If I dream tonight… let it be somewhere safe.

Gabriel closed his eyes.

And fell asleep.