The tunnels didn't stay quiet forever. By the next waking cycle, the need for supplies pressed down on them like the weight of the city above. Their packs were nearly empty—rations down to crumbs, water dwindling to half a flask. Even Selene couldn't ignore the gnaw in her stomach.
"We can't wait it out here," she said, securing the strap of her rifle across her chest. "If the Enforcers don't flush us, hunger will. We move."
Kieran nodded. "North sector's close. Market ruins, storage blocks. Might still be caches." His voice was rough, but steadier than the night before. He hadn't spoken of the dream again, though his eyes still lingered on Maya as if confirming she was real.
Maya pulled on her boots, tugging them tighter than necessary. The thought of scavenging through dead streets unsettled her, but staying meant slow death. She forced her hands steady.
They moved through narrow arteries first—passageways no wider than shoulders, dripping with condensation. The air was thick with mold and rust. Selene led, weapon raised, every footstep placed with a soldier's patience. Maya kept close to Kieran, not trusting the silence between them.
When they finally emerged into the North sector, the shift in space was startling. The ceiling arched higher, beams fractured where blasts had caved them in. Daylight cut through ragged holes above, casting long shafts of pale gold onto the ruins. For a moment, it almost looked like a forgotten cathedral.
Maya's breath caught. "It's… beautiful."
"Beautiful won't feed us," Selene said, but her voice softened as she scanned the light.
They split the sector carefully, each searching through rubble and husks of market stalls. Kieran pried open a storage locker half-buried under bricks, dust rising in clouds. Inside: tins, some dented, some rusted through. He rattled one—still sealed. He grinned faintly, holding it up.
Maya found a broken crate of water bottles. Most were empty, plastic crushed flat, but two sloshed faintly when she lifted them. She almost cried with relief.
Selene's haul was weapons-grade: a half-charge power cell, cracked but functional, and a blade sheathed in a soldier's abandoned kit. She held it up, testing its weight. "Not perfect. But better than nothing."
They regrouped at the center, setting their finds on a cracked stone bench. For a few minutes, there was silence but for the sound of wrappers tearing and water caps hissing open. They ate sparingly, chewing like every bite had to count.
Maya leaned back, closing her eyes as the faint taste of metal filled her mouth. "I never thought I'd call stale rations a miracle."
Kieran chuckled dryly. "Miracle's the right word. Feels like the city left us crumbs to follow."
Selene frowned. "Don't mistake luck for mercy. This place doesn't forgive."
Maya opened her eyes, studying her. "You really believe the city hates us?"
"I've fought in its bones long enough to know it isn't neutral," Selene said. "The subnet, the ruins, the way it all shifts—everything here has intent. And it isn't ours."
Kieran tapped the sealed tin in his hand, thoughtful. "Maybe. But intent or not, it left this behind. If the subnet wanted us dead, it could've taken us already. Maybe it's… testing us."
Maya shivered. That thought felt too close to truth.
Their meal ended quickly. Selene ordered them to stash half the supplies in hidden caches nearby—"Never carry all your hope in one bag," she said, her tone brooking no argument. They obeyed, burying tins under broken tiles, marking the spots in memory.
By the time they finished, the shafts of light had shifted, shadows creeping longer across the sector. The silence wasn't peaceful anymore—it pressed in, heavy, watchful.
Kieran was the first to say what they were all thinking. "We shouldn't linger."
Maya nodded, but as they packed, she stole one last glance at the beams of sunlight. For a heartbeat, it felt like the city itself had opened a window for them, only to close it just as quickly.
When they slipped back into the narrow tunnels, the hush followed them. Supplies bought them time, yes—but Maya couldn't shake the sense that the city had let them feed only so it could decide when to starve them again.