Zone 7 looked like somebody turned the volume down on the world.

  Not in a peaceful way. Not in a “finally, we’re safe” way.

  In a wrong way.

  The stone streets were clean. No blood. No bodies. No overturned carts. No screaming.

  No people.

  Our footsteps sounded too loud, even when we tried to step soft. The old lamps along the road were still there, iron and curved like they belonged in a storybook, but most of them were dead. A few flickered weakly, like they were tired of trying.

  Windows were dark. Doors were shut. A sign above a bakery creaked in the wind, tapping against the wall in a steady rhythm that made my skin itch.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Lioran flinched every time it hit.

  He tried to make it look like he didn’t.

  He failed.

  Nysera walked ahead, metal rod in her hand, eyes scanning corners. Cirellan stayed close to her, quieter than ever. Lucien moved beside me, shoulders stiff, looking like he was reading the streets like a map.

  I kept thinking about the compound behind us. The crack of stone. The water rising. The bodies.

  And I kept thinking about my family.

  Selene. Kael. Myron.

  No matter how empty Zone 7 was, the emptiness didn’t fill the hole in my chest.

  “What if this is the safe zone,” Lioran whispered.

  His voice sounded like he didn’t believe it, even as he said it.

  Nysera didn’t look back. “Then where is everyone?”

  Lioran tried a small laugh. It came out thin. “Maybe they all went to bed early.”

  Nobody laughed.

  Lioran swallowed and added quietly, “Yeah. Bad joke.”

  I glanced at him. His eyes were glassy, and his mouth was pulled tight like he was holding himself together with teeth.

  He was not okay.

  He was walking anyway.

  That was all he had.

  We reached a small square with a fountain in the middle. The water wasn’t running. The stone basin was empty except for a few dead leaves. A tram line cut through the square, and a tram car sat stopped halfway along the track.

  The doors were open.

  Empty inside.

  No blood. No signs of struggle. Just an abandoned vehicle waiting for passengers that never came.

  Cirellan stared at it. “That’s not normal.”

  Lucien nodded. “They stopped it on purpose.”

  Nysera looked at him. “How do you know?”

  Lucien pointed to the front panel. “Manual override engaged.”

  I squinted. I could barely see it in the dim light. A small indicator on the control panel still glowed faintly, like a tired heartbeat.

  “Why would they leave it like that?” I asked.

  Lucien didn’t answer right away. He scanned the buildings around us.

  “Because they didn’t leave in a fight,” he said finally. “They left in a plan.”

  The word plan sat heavy between us.

  A plan meant someone knew.

  Someone decided.

  Someone moved an entire zone like a chess piece.

  Nysera’s voice was low. “So why didn’t Zone 8 move like this?”

  Lucien’s jaw tightened. “Because Zone 8 didn’t get that chance.”

  Cirellan’s eyes flicked to him. “Or wasn’t given one.”

  Lucien didn’t respond.

  I didn’t either, but my stomach twisted anyway.

  We moved past the square.

  The next street had shops lining both sides. Their shutters were down. Some had locks. Some didn’t. One shop’s door was cracked open just a little, like the person who closed it didn’t finish.

  Inside, I could see shelves that were half empty.

  Not ransacked. Not destroyed.

  Cleared.

  Like someone took what they needed and left the rest because there wasn’t time to argue about it.

  A cloth store had bolts of fabric missing in neat gaps. A food stall had jars gone, but the counter was still clean.

  Cirellan whispered, “This isn’t panic.”

  Nysera replied, “It is panic. Just organized.”

  Lucien stopped by a wall terminal mounted near a street corner. A public announcement device, the kind that played council messages and zone alerts.

  The screen was cracked.

  But it was still blinking faintly.

  Lucien tapped it. Nothing.

  He tried a different angle, pressing his thumb to the side panel.

  A prompt flashed up for half a second.

  CLEARANCE REQUIRED: MIL-GRADE / COUNCIL-LINK

  Then it died again.

  Nysera leaned in. “You saw that?”

  “I saw it,” Lucien said.

  Cirellan’s voice was tight. “Council link in Zone 7 terminals. That’s not normal.”

  Lucien glanced at me. “Upper corridor access.”

  I frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “It means Zone 7 sits close to the upper route network,” Lucien said. “Supply lines. Evac lines. People above us don’t just look down. They build through.”

  Nysera scoffed. “And they don’t tell anyone below.”

  Lucien didn’t deny it.

  We moved again.

  My eyes kept scanning the ground. I didn’t know what I was looking for. Blood? Footprints? A clue that Selene passed through this street?

  Instead, I saw a scrap of paper pinned under a stone, like it had been placed there to keep it from flying away.

  I crouched and pulled it free.

  It was torn. Smudged.

  Only a few words were readable.

  …Transit Directive…

  …Clearance…

  …Z7…

  And a fragment of code near the corner.

  Z8-LOCK…

  My heart kicked hard.

  I stared at it too long.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Nysera hissed, “Rafa.”

  I looked up.

  Lucien had frozen. Cirellan too.

  Across the street, a door moved.

  Not opened.

  Moved slightly.

  Like someone inside touched it.

  All of us tightened instantly.

  Nysera raised her metal rod.

  Lucien’s hand slipped into his coat and pulled out a small folding blade. It didn’t look like a weapon meant for fights. It looked like something he carried because he liked feeling prepared.

  Cirellan’s hands curled into fists.

  Lioran stepped behind me without thinking, breathing shallow.

  I stood up slowly, paper still in my hand.

  The door didn’t move again.

  Silence returned.

  Tap. Tap. Tap from the bakery sign in the distance.

  I shoved the paper into my pocket.

  Not because I understood it.

  Because I couldn’t stand leaving it on the ground like it meant nothing.

  We kept moving.

  Lucien stayed closer to me now, not touching, but close enough that if something happened, we would react together.

  We walked past a narrow alley where rainwater dripped down stone. Past a statue of an old council founder with a calm carved face. Past a wall mural of thirteen stacked circles, each painted a different color. Zone 1 bright gold at the top. Zone 13 deep red at the bottom.

  Someone had scratched at the red circle.

  Hard.

  Like they were trying to erase it.

  Lioran stopped for half a second, staring at the scratch marks.

  Nysera noticed. “Keep moving.”

  He nodded quickly and followed.

  We reached another street where the buildings leaned closer together, making a shadowed tunnel.

  That was when we heard it.

  Not a tap.

  Not a drip.

  A soft, high sound.

  A cry.

  Then another.

  Two voices.

  Small and shaking.

  We all froze.

  Lioran whispered, “That’s… kids.”

  Nysera’s eyes narrowed. “Or a trap.”

  “A trap from who?” I whispered back, but my voice sounded dumb even to me.

  Lucien’s eyes scanned the street. “Still treat it like one.”

  We moved slowly toward the sound.

  It came from a storefront with a half-lowered shutter. The sign above it read NYTHE THREADS AND SUPPLY in faded gold letters.

  A textile shop. Or maybe something more. Hard to tell now.

  The crying came again, muffled.

  I could hear sniffing between the sobs, like whoever was crying was trying hard to stay quiet.

  Nysera whispered, “Rafa, don’t.”

  I looked at her. “If there are kids in there…”

  Nysera’s jaw tightened. “If there’s something else in there, we die.”

  Lucien stepped beside me. “We do it carefully.”

  It surprised me. The way he said we.

  Not you.

  Not Rafa.

  We.

  He raised his hand slightly, signaling for a stop.

  He crouched and pressed his ear toward the shutter gap.

  The crying paused.

  A small voice whispered, “Did you hear footsteps?”

  Another voice, almost identical, whispered back, “Yes.”

  They sounded young, but not tiny. Not little kids. More like juniors.

  Lucien spoke softly, firm but calm. “Hey. We’re students. We’re not here to hurt you.”

  Silence.

  Then a shaky voice. “Everybody says that.”

  Lucien replied, “Fair. But if we wanted to hurt you, we wouldn’t announce ourselves.”

  Nysera muttered, “He’s negotiating now.”

  Lioran, almost automatically, whispered, “Weapon of knowledge,” and nodded at the thick book Nysera had tucked under her arm.

  Nysera shot him a look so sharp it could cut stone. “I will throw this at you.”

  Lioran blinked, then whispered, “Okay. Worth it.”

  His mouth twitched like he tried to smile. It didn’t reach his eyes.

  I looked at the shutter again. “We can leave if you want. But we heard you crying. If you’re hurt, we can help.”

  A pause.

  Then the shutter lifted slightly from the inside.

  A pair of eyes appeared.

  Dark, alert, not as naive as the voice sounded.

  Then the shutter lifted more.

  Two girls stood inside the dim shop.

  They looked like twins.

  Same face shape. Same hair length. Same uniform style, though their coats were wrinkled and dusty.

  One of them held a small knife. Not a fancy one. A store tool. The kind you use to cut cloth.

  The other held a pair of heavy shears like she was ready to swing them.

  They both looked scared.

  But their stance was steady.

  Not sloppy.

  Not helpless.

  I noticed that even through the fear, they were positioned with a clear view of exits.

  It was subtle.

  But it made the hair on my arms rise.

  The girl with the knife spoke first. “Name.”

  Nysera bristled. “Excuse me?”

  Lucien answered calmly. “Lucien Valcrest.”

  The twin’s eyes widened just a little. She hid it fast.

  The other twin stared at me. “You?”

  “Rafa Mirevale,” I said.

  She blinked. “Zone 8?”

  “Yes.”

  Her eyes flicked to Nysera and Cirellan. “You too?”

  Nysera lifted her chin. “Nysera Thale.”

  “Cirellan Vireaux,” Cirellan said quietly.

  The twins exchanged a look.

  Then the knife twin lowered her weapon slightly.

  “Okay,” she said. “You’re real.”

  Lioran’s voice came out cautious. “What does that mean?”

  The twin with the shears answered. “If you were one of them, you wouldn’t talk this much.”

  Nysera muttered, “Great. Love that.”

  Lucien asked, “Your names?”

  The knife twin lifted her chin. “Vaelle Nythe.”

  The shears twin said, “Vaeris Nythe.”

  They said it like a challenge. Like they expected us to judge them.

  I didn’t care about their names. I cared that they were alive.

  I took a slow breath. “How old are you?”

  “Junior year,” Vaeris said.

  Vaelle added, “Zone 7 academy.”

  Nysera’s voice softened slightly. “Where are your parents?”

  The twins’ faces shifted.

  Not crying. Not breaking.

  Just tightening.

  Vaelle shrugged in a way that looked practiced. “They left.”

  Vaeris added, “Everyone left.”

  Lioran’s voice rose a little. “Left where?”

  The twins hesitated.

  Then Vaelle said, “Zone 4.”

  The words hit the air like a dropped stone.

  Lucien stared. “Zone 4?”

  Vaeris nodded. “We heard them talking. Evac corridors. Upper transfer.”

  Cirellan stepped forward slightly. “Who is ‘them’?”

  Vaelle pointed upward vaguely, like the ceiling had ears. “Adults. Council workers. Soldiers. People with badges.”

  Nysera’s eyes narrowed. “So the council organized this.”

  Vaeris shrugged. “They were checking lists. Like they knew who was going first.”

  That made my stomach twist again.

  Lists.

  Who goes first.

  Like humans were cargo.

  Lucien’s voice was carefully calm. “When did they leave?”

  Vaelle thought for a second. “Before the screaming started in the distance.”

  “That’s not an answer,” Nysera snapped.

  Vaelle’s eyes flashed, but she kept her voice sweet. “We lost track of time.”

  Too sweet.

  Vaeris spoke quickly, “They said Zone 6 is already evacuated.”

  Lucien’s eyes sharpened. “Zone 6?”

  Vaeris nodded. “We heard it. People were saying, ‘Zone 6 cleared.’ Like it was a schedule.”

  Cirellan whispered, “So upper zones are moving.”

  Nysera crossed her arms. “And we’re just… late.”

  Lioran’s voice cracked. “Why would they leave Zone 7 empty?”

  Vaelle answered softly, “They said Zone 7 was next to clear.”

  “Next,” I repeated.

  Next means it was planned.

  Next means someone knew.

  Nysera’s gaze stayed locked on the twins. “Why didn’t you go with them?”

  The twins both looked away for half a second. Not at the same time. Like they weren’t copying each other. Like they were coordinating without meaning to.

  Vaeris answered, “We were hiding.”

  Vaelle added quickly, “We thought it would be worse outside.”

  Lucien nodded, not judging. “And now you’re stuck.”

  Vaelle lifted her chin again. “We’re not stuck. We’re alive.”

  Nysera sighed like she wanted to argue but didn’t.

  I glanced around the shop.

  Stacks of cloth. Spools of thread. Empty shelves where supplies should be. A counter with a small cash box still there. Two bedrolls on the floor. A half-eaten piece of bread.

  They’d been here for a while.

  Cirellan spoke softly, “Did anyone say why Zone 4?”

  Vaeris shrugged. “They said Zone 4 has a checkpoint. A safe corridor.”

  Lucien’s voice got quieter. “And Zone 5?”

  Vaelle blinked. “We didn’t hear about Zone 5.”

  Nysera muttered, “Convenient.”

  Vaeris frowned. “We did hear Zone 5 is water. People were saying something about canals.”

  Lucien’s eyes flicked to me, just for a second.

  Then he looked back at them. “Okay.”

  Vaelle pointed at us. “Where are you going?”

  Lucien hesitated.

  I could see he didn’t want to reveal it.

  Then he looked at me again, and the choice shifted.

  He said, “Zone 5.”

  Nysera shot him a look. “We agreed on Zone 7 first.”

  Lucien replied quietly, “We’re in Zone 7. The plan doesn’t change.”

  Vaeris asked, “Why Zone 5?”

  Lucien answered, “Because water makes a barrier.”

  Vaelle’s eyes widened. “Like… they can’t cross?”

  Lucien didn’t promise. “Maybe. Or at least it slows them.”

  Vaeris looked at Vaelle. Then back at us. “You have a route?”

  Lucien didn’t answer immediately.

  Nysera stepped closer. “If you come with us, you do what we say. No wandering. No screaming. No hero stuff.”

  Vaelle’s mouth turned into a small smile. “We don’t scream.”

  Lioran, still hollow-eyed, muttered, “That’s a flex.”

  Vaeris leaned forward slightly. “We can help. We know this zone.”

  Nysera raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

  Vaeris nodded quickly. “Yes.”

  It was too quick.

  Then Vaeris corrected herself, slower. “We’ve lived here our whole lives.”

  I caught something there.

  A small slip.

  Like she almost said something else.

  I looked at Lucien. I didn’t know if he caught it too, but his eyes stayed on the twins a fraction longer than normal.

  Not suspicion.

  Just noticing.

  Cirellan spoke softly. “If we leave them, they die.”

  Nysera looked at Cirellan like she didn’t want to admit she agreed.

  Lioran’s voice came out quiet. “We can’t just… leave kids.”

  “They’re juniors,” Nysera snapped.

  Lioran blinked. “We are basically kids too.”

  Nysera opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. “Fine.”

  Lucien looked at me again.

  Not asking permission.

  Just checking.

  I felt my chest tighten.

  This wasn’t scholarship logic anymore.

  This was who we are logic.

  I nodded once.

  “They come,” I said.

  Vaelle exhaled like she had been holding her breath for an hour.

  Vaeris stepped back, lowering the shears.

  Nysera pointed at them. “Grab what you need. Light. Food. Nothing bulky.”

  Vaelle nodded fast. “We already have packs.”

  Of course they did.

  They moved quickly, but not frantic, grabbing two small bags from behind the counter.

  They didn’t fumble.

  They didn’t argue.

  They looked like they had practiced packing in the dark.

  I filed that away without knowing why.

  Lucien spoke quietly to me while the twins gathered their things.

  “You didn’t hesitate,” he said.

  I shrugged. “They’re alive.”

  Lucien’s voice was low, almost gentle. “You’re not wrong for wanting to help.”

  I looked at him, surprised.

  His face was tired. Real. No performance.

  I answered quietly, “Don’t make me regret it.”

  Lucien’s mouth twitched. “I won’t.”

  Nysera turned, watching us. “Are you two bonding?”

  Lioran, barely present, muttered, “Enemies to friends arc.”

  Nysera stared at him. “You are not allowed to say ‘arc’ right now.”

  Lioran’s mouth moved like he tried to smile. It died immediately.

  He stared at the floor.

  I nudged him lightly with my elbow. “You good?”

  He didn’t lie.

  “No,” he whispered. “But I’m walking.”

  My throat tightened.

  I nodded. “That’s enough.”

  Vaelle and Vaeris came back to the shutter.

  Vaelle looked out into the street like she expected it to change while we were inside.

  Still empty.

  Still quiet.

  A piece of paper slid down the street carried by the wind, skittering and flipping.

  Vaeris watched it like it was dangerous.

  Lucien pointed. “We move.”

  We stepped out together.

  Seven now.

  The street swallowed us again.

  As we walked, I caught a glimpse of something on a nearby wall. A notice that had been scraped off, leaving only faint letters.

  …UPPER COUNCIL…

  …TRANSIT…

  …CLEAR…

  And something else, barely visible, like the wall itself had been bruised.

  C-RING…

  …Z8…

  My heart kicked again.

  I reached for it, but Vaelle bumped my shoulder lightly, “Sorry,” she said too sweetly, and the moment passed.

  Maybe it meant nothing.

  Maybe it meant everything.

  Lucien’s voice came low beside me. “Stop chasing scraps.”

  I looked at him.

  He didn’t sound harsh.

  He sounded like he was trying to keep me from falling into a hole I couldn’t climb out of yet.

  “We go to the route,” he said. “We find a foothold. Then we search smarter.”

  Smarter.

  Not faster.

  Not braver.

  Just smarter.

  I nodded once.

  We walked deeper into Zone 7’s dead streets.

  The silence followed us like a shadow.

  And somewhere far away, beyond the quiet, I could hear the city still screaming.