Alice was probably just as uneasy, which became obvious when her voice, laced with worry, echoed through the train car: "Oliver! Are you out of your mind? We don't even know what's out there! You two are completely insane! Why don't we at least try calling for help first?"
A heavy silence fell over the place. Personally, I didn't think there was much to say — at least, not in my opinion. It felt like those words were aimed more at Oliver than at me.
I mean, we had only met less than half an hour ago. It's hard to believe anyone could form a real bond that quickly. So I just stayed on the sidelines, quietly observing.
Oliver, tension written all over his face, squeezed his eyes shut, like he was digging deep inside himself for answers—lost in some distant, heavy thought.
Moments later, he turned slowly, locking eyes with Alice in a way that made her catch her breath. His expression, though grim and shadowed, carried a subtle tenderness — like, in that moment, she was the only thing left giving him any hope.
He looked at her for a long second before speaking, his voice edged with urgency: "We don't have a choice, Alice. If what they told us in that white room is actually true... if it's real, then the world we knew is already gone. And if we don't adapt fast to whatever this new reality is... we're all going to die"
Honestly, I was genuinely surprised by how quickly he seemed to have accepted everything. And the truth is, I know I've been acting strangely too — like none of this really matters to me.
I'm going through it all as if my old life has no hold on me anymore, accepting things with a kind of unsettling ease. But deep down... should I really be holding on to anything? It's not like I had a family waiting for me. No one I cared about.
That emptiness — that lack of connection — feels like it's becoming a part of who I am now. As my thoughts spiraled, I felt a firm yet gentle hand press down on my shoulder.
I looked over to find Oliver, calm and focused, staring at me: "Ready?" he asked.
I just nodded, taking in his words before glancing quickly at Alice. She looked kind of irritated, but I could feel the weight in her gaze fixed on Oliver — genuine concern shining through. Strangely though, she seemed a little unsettled by me too. I wasn't sure why. I couldn't figure it out.
Before stepping out, I caught one last glimpse of my reflection — a feminine figure resting calmly in the dim light, seemingly untouched by the storm of emotions swirling around us.
(Everything's probably going to be fine... right?) I thought, trying to shake off the rising tension.
The doubt still lingered in the air, but I forced myself to focus on the train door in front of us, tracing its details — the metallic surface glinting under the soft lights above.
Oliver and I exchanged a look, a silent tension hanging between us. Our eyes met, and with a near-synchronized nod, it was like we both understood exactly what was about to happen.
In the next second, I reached down to the holster strapped to my side and, with practiced speed, pulled out the dagger carefully stowed there.
The blade flashed briefly in the light. Oliver, equally composed, moved the opposite way — pulling his bow from over his back with fluid precision.
His quiver shifted slightly against his shoulder, the soft rustle of arrows like a quiet whisper as he adjusted his stance, ready for whatever was waiting. Just before we left, Oliver turned to Ethan, who looked hesitant, unsure of when or how to step in.
His eyes flicked uncertainly before Oliver spoke — voice steady, yet tinged with concern: "Ethan, watch over Alice and Noa while we're gone. We'll come back as fast as we can, but we don't know what's out there"
Ethan nodded, slow and firm. His eyes, filled with resolve, met Oliver's for a second. Then, gripping his own arm, he gave it a light squeeze — a small but deliberate gesture of strength.
His deep, steady voice broke the silence: "Yeah. Don't worry. I swear I'll protect both of them with everything I've got"
Oliver gave a faint smile and nodded, like something unspoken passed between them. The train door opened, and we stepped out. As soon as my feet touched the ground, a strange feeling washed over me — like I'd just stepped through an invisible barrier.
It wasn't physical, but more like the warm air from the train vanished entirely, replaced by a faint, chilling breeze that wrapped around me. Oliver stood beside me, his face layered with emotions — a silent storm behind his eyes.
Maybe he was feeling the same thing I was. And if there was one difference between us, it was this: while I tried to stay calm, the bow in Oliver's hands was trembling, just slightly. Not enough to throw off his aim, but... enough for me to notice.
That moment of vulnerability didn't last long though. With one sharp motion, he tightened his grip on the bow, and the trembling stopped — like it had never even happened.
"Ready?" he asked, slowly turning toward me again.
I nodded, and we started moving through the ruins of the subway. The place was desolate — broken walls, scattered debris. Honestly, I wasn't even sure we were still in the subway anymore. A rusted train still sat on the platform, but everything else felt... otherworldly.
The air was thick — damp and heavy, with a darkness so dense it felt like it could swallow you whole. There was a weight to it, like something just waiting in the shadows to strike the moment we slipped up. It was like the atmosphere itself was on edge, waiting for one wrong move to reveal its hand.
Oliver definitely sensed it too. His eyes scanned every corner, sharp and alert, like he expected danger to jump out at any moment. Our formation was far from ideal, and his fear of an ambush made everything worse — every step more uncertain, more tense. That's when I decided I needed to speak up, before things got worse.
"Oliver" I said, trying to sound steady: "I have an ability that lets me detect nearby presences. I've never used it in a real situation, so I don't know how reliable it is... but I think it'll help. We won't get caught off guard so easily"
He looked at me for a long moment before giving a slow nod. I noticed his expression ease a little, like the tension in his body had softened — reassured by the thought we wouldn't be walking blind. His grip on the bow tightened again — not from fear this time, but purpose.