The compound was quieter now—recovering, like its leader. But the silence was not one of peace. It buzzed with anticipation, unease, and unanswered questions. Kael, ever observant, noticed it first: the slight inconsistencies in supply reports, encrypted transmissions no one could trace, and the strange gaps in their internal logs. Something—or someone—was slipping through the cracks.
Kirion, though still adjusting to the uncertain clarity of his recovering sight, felt it too. A lingering unease. Whispers of the past refusing to stay buried.
"I've been watching movement patterns in the outer sectors," Kael said one morning, her tone measured but grave. "There's interference in our relay beacons. Something subtle, but repeating."
Kirion sat up straighter, his mind sharpening. "A pattern?"
She nodded, sliding a datapad toward him. Even blurred, he could make out the shapes of spikes—consistent, pulsing like a heartbeat across a communications grid. Someone was sending messages in and out of their territory without detection.
"Inside job?"
"Possibly. But I don't think it's sabotage. I think it's surveillance. They're watching, not disrupting."
Kirion's stomach tightened. His thoughts leapt to Zae, to the ghost of her mother, and the ever-present threat of infiltration. The government hadn't simply retreated—they had adapted, just like he had. But their methods were colder, quieter.
That evening, while Zae worked on recalibrating the compound's encryption grid, Kael and Kirion reviewed intel from their allies across the region. One report stood out—a rebel safehouse in the north had gone dark, but not violently. No signs of struggle. Just… silence.
"Vanished," Kael muttered, "without a trace."
Kirion leaned forward, tracing the last known location on the map. His fingertips paused as he realized something chilling.
"That's where she trained."
Kael looked at him. "Who?"
He didn't answer at first. The name felt heavy, poisonous. But the truth needed oxygen.
"Zae's mother. Elira."
Kael didn't flinch, but her lips thinned. "You think she's back."
"I know she is."
A cold wind moved through the open window, and for a moment, it felt like a whisper. Kael closed the datapad with a firm tap.
"Then we find her before she finds us."
But the trail was thin. Most of Elira's records were scrubbed clean—a ghost in digital form. Even Zae, despite her hacking prowess, struggled to pull anything concrete. What she did uncover, though, chilled them all: a photograph, timestamped only weeks ago, showing a woman with familiar features in the background of a government gala. Her posture, the curve of her jaw, the unmistakable scar near her temple.
Zae said nothing for a long time after they confirmed the image.
"She's alive," she finally whispered.
"And watching," Kirion replied.
Kael stood, her face resolute. "We need to go deeper. Trace the origin of the interference, follow the leaks. I'll call in some old favors."
As Kirion walked the perimeter that night, eyes adjusting to shadows and silhouettes, he realized the past wasn't done with him. And this time, it wasn't just his life on the line—it was Zae's heart, and everything they had built in the fragile light.