The storm never truly left. It only circled wider, dragging its weight across the horizon like a wounded god.
Cain walked through the fractured valley that had once been City Z's eastern line. Every step sank into blackened mud. The air stank of ozone, burning oil, and blood turned sour under rain.
Behind him, the survivors followed in silence — Roselle, Steve, and a dozen others that hadn't died when the conduits went up. They looked half-alive. Faces gray. Eyes glassy.
Susan limped beside a broken barrier cart, clutching her side. "We're not heading back to base, are we?"
Cain didn't answer. He only kept walking.
Steve trudged closer, his voice rough. "I saw the light from the heart of the city. Whatever's there is pulsing through the Grid. They're rebuilding fast."
"Not rebuilding," Cain said quietly. "Restructuring."
