Chapter 61: Summer Dust and Silk Threads
The sun was merciless.
Even with fractured clouds dragging their tired bellies across the sky and the world already half-dead, summer didn't care. It clung to everything—soaking into cracked pavement, pressing into the shattered asphalt, sliding down the spine like a fever that couldn't be shaken.
Aira brushed damp bangs from her forehead as she followed Selene across the empty parking lot of a decaying suburban shopping center. Faded white lines ghosted across the ground beneath their boots, leading them to what had once been a mall—a monument to convenience, now split open like a wound. The glass entrance was shattered inward, jagged remnants glittering under the haze. Inside, mannequins stood frozen in their last poses—thin wrists bent, glossy eyes painted wide in eternal expectation.
"We should take what we can," Selene said, voice low, eyes scanning the shadows. "Once production stops for good… clothing like this will be gone."
Aira nodded, absently wiping sweat from her collarbone with the hem of her shirt. The world was unraveling—and somehow, here they were. Shopping.
It felt surreal. Like stepping into the half-decayed memory of someone else's life.
Inside, the mall had turned into a cathedral of silence. Their footsteps echoed beneath the vaulted ceiling, bouncing off broken tile and sagging walls. The air was thick with dust and old perfume, hanging in the stillness like a forgotten spell. Crumpled receipts littered the floor like brittle leaves in an abandoned forest. As they passed a long-defunct makeup kiosk, Aira paused, her gaze catching on lipstick tubes left ajar, their shades still vibrant despite time. Testers waited, eerily untouched, for hands that would never return.
She wandered into a boutique near the remains of an escalator. The sign above the door swung on a single bolt, squeaking softly with every breath of wind. This had once been a place for elegance—chiffon, silk, tailored fantasy. Clothes meant not for survival, but for celebration. For beauty.
Her fingers brushed a pale green dress with tiny embroidered flowers along the collarbone. The fabric was dulled by dust and time, but it was soft. Familiar. Her throat tightened, seized by something unnamed and aching.
"It's beautiful," she whispered, almost to herself.
Selene appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, her silhouette carved against the light like a judgment. "Take it."
Aira turned. "It's… silly. The world's ending."
Selene stepped inside, slowly, as though the room might vanish if she moved too quickly. "It's not silly if it's something you love."
She reached out and touched the hem of the dress. Her fingers were rougher now—scarred and calloused from months of survival—but her touch was reverent.
"That's why we're here," Selene said. "You should have things that make you feel human."
Their eyes met in the soft half-light. Something passed between them—quiet, unformed, yet undeniable. A tenderness too careful to speak its name. The sun broke through a cracked skylight above, casting liquid gold across Aira's bare shoulders. Selene's breath caught in her throat—almost imperceptibly. She looked away before the moment could bloom into something too real.
They moved through the ruins with intent after that. Selene, sharp-eyed and focused, picked through materials with soldier's logic—breathable fabrics, utility pieces, clean seams. Aira floated behind her, half-rooted in the moment, half-lost in memories that didn't belong to this timeline. Her choices were gentler—chosen not for function, but for the way they felt against her fingers.
A faded silk robe in antique rose. A necklace with a chipped moon charm. A sundress the color of ripe apricot that didn't match her mood or surroundings—but she couldn't bring herself to leave it behind.
Selene didn't comment. But when Aira wasn't looking, her mouth curved into a smile.
They found hiking boots, lightweight rain jackets, sunglasses tinted amber. Swimsuits, too—casually tossed into the pile by Selene.
Aira arched a brow. "Swimsuits?"
"There's a lake in your dimension," Selene said without inflection. "You might as well enjoy it."
Aira flushed but said nothing, folding them carefully.
By midday, they were sweat-soaked, the sun becoming a force rather than a temperature. The weight of it pressed against their spines, heavy and relentless. Aira flicked her hand, opening the veil to her hidden dimension. The shimmer was faint—almost imperceptible to any normal eye. But Selene always saw.
And she noticed something else.
The dimension pulsed now. It responded to Aira—mirroring her breath, her emotions, her evolution. It was no longer just refuge. It was reflection. It was alive.
They stepped outside again into a world simmering under skyfire. Selene shrugged off her jacket, revealing the tank top clinging to her frame. Muscles flexed as she adjusted the strap on her shoulder—quiet strength in every movement. Shadows danced along her collarbone.
Aira tried not to stare.
She failed.
Selene noticed—but said nothing.