The ball struck the dirt hard, spinning past Jonas before he could react. He lunged, barely catching it, laughter cutting through the hum of the turbines above.

“Three steps, then throw! No cheating,” he called, grinning toward Hale.

Hale smirked and took his stance, but Jonas was already ducking. The ball sailed past, thudding against a fencepost before dropping into the dust.

Aria crouched low, tracking the movement. The shardlight beneath her skin stirred—subtle, electric—like static alive in her veins. Each heartbeat drew it closer to the surface.

The next throw came fast. Instinct overrode thought. The plating along her shoulders flickered to life just long enough for the ball to whip past her cheek, clipping air instead of skin. It ricocheted against the post and rolled to a stop.

Jonas blinked.

“Show-off.”

“You’re just slow,” Aria said, smiling.

Virel retrieved the rebound with practiced grace, tossing it across the circle with precise force. Clem’s voice filtered through his glasses, clinical yet amused.

“Note: shard reaction time increased twelve percent. Synchronization stable.”

Aria groaned.

“You’re logging our game now?”

“Every action is data,” Clem replied, perfectly even.

Liora glanced up from her sketchbook, amusement tugging at her lips.

“Only you two could turn dodgeball into a physics paper.”

Maris stood at the fencepost, quiet but observant, eyes following every motion. Hale lingered nearby, pretending indifference while his boot traced nervous lines in the dirt.

The game continued—throws, laughter, shouts that echoed across the ridge. For a fleeting stretch of sunlight, the world felt whole again. No patrols, no tension. Just play.

Jonas missed the catch entirely this time; the ball hit the ground with a dull slap, dust rising as the group burst into laughter.

Aria doubled over, breathless, strands of hair clinging to her face. Virel stepped toward her, hoodie still tied around his waist, eyes steady and unguarded. He reached for her hand without hesitation, their fingers linking with quiet familiarity.

The laughter faded around them, replaced by the soft rhythm of their breathing. Virel leaned in. The kiss was brief but sure—neither hidden nor hesitant.

When they pulled apart, Hale gave a mock whistle. Liora smirked. Even Maris’s expression softened into the hint of a smile.

Aria flushed, then laughed, squeezing Virel’s hand tighter.

“What? Game’s over. We won.”

And for that moment—despite the unseen watchers beyond the ridge—it was true.

They had won something.

They had claimed joy.