“So…” she breathed, barely more than the wind.
In a blink, Caelan was in front of her, pulling her in with his right arm.
“Ow, you idiot. Careful,” Keira muttered, softening into him anyway. “I missed you, too.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, low, at her ear. “I messed up. I should’ve done more. Pretty crappy big brother, huh?”
Keira’s laugh was small and warm. “You don’t need to be perfect. That’s why the goddess gave you the most perfect little sister she could find. And yeah, you’re right—I’d say: ‘stop, you cheesy bitch.’”
Caelan raised his voice just enough for the circle. “Bitch, I knew you were awake.”
He set her down. Keira made obnoxious kissy sounds toward the shadows. “You’re my best friend, Solara.”
Aidan barreled into them, wrapping Keira in a hug. “Aw, sis, it’s been horrible. Milo’s been a complete idiot the whole time, and Caelan did that thing again while Milo cheered him on—”
Keira’s eyes narrowed past Aidan. “The fuck is he doing here?” She’d clocked Garron.
“Young miss—” Garron tried to rise, failed, then winced, one hand cupping his groin. “Forgive me. That really nasty blow you gave me earlier, Caelan, knocked the wind out of me. I’ve never come across someone who would go that low.”
“Oh, you mean this?” Keira said, sliding Aidan to the side.
She drove her foot straight into Caelan’s groin.
He fell to the dirt. “Still worth it… fuck—think I might’ve lost one this time.”
“And what’s your excuse?” Keira spun on Milo. “I know I’m that perfect, but I can’t help noticing only two of my three brothers bothered to hug me after I almost got eliminated.”
Milo stood, ambling over with a grin. “Well, maybe if I were quiet for a change, Caelan might focus enough to win this.” He spread his arms.
Keira opened hers.
As he stepped in, she stomped him square in the groin.
Milo rolled to the ground, wheezing with laughter. “Yeah, you’re right, Cap—still worth it.”
Half the circle winced in sympathy.
“Right?” Caelan groaned from the floor, managing a laugh.
Keira grabbed both idiots by the ear and hauled them upright. “Right. Say it. Now.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Try again,” she warned.
“We’re sorry for picking on you, bro,” they chorused.
“Milo, you’re carrying his bag for a week. Caelan, you’ve got his sleeping bag,” Keira decreed. “Now let’s do it properly.” She hooked an arm around each of the three and dragged them into a crush of a hug. “You idiots better have more faith in me from now on. Your sister wouldn’t dream of leaving you here.”
When she let go, Solara’s voice floated in, pleased. “Keira… that was beautiful. And twenty extra hours of training have been credited to your account—the now three hundred and sixty?eight hours of owed training.”
“Aww, bitch—miss me that much?” Keira grinned.
Solara’s smile sharpened. “Three hundred and sixty?nine.”
“B?dawg, looking stacked as always,” Keira called across the fire. “How are you doing, beautiful? Pass a girl a drink.”
Braen lobbed a bottle over the flames. “Nice to see you, little princess. Glad you didn’t get crushed this time.”
Keira turned to Veyra. “Happening… Jesus, what happened to you? You look like you’ve been dragged through the bushes. Right—which one of my brothers did it this time?”
Veyra sighed. “Aww, don’t worry about me, Keira. I hope your arm’s alright.” Keira flexed the taped forearm; the joint still ached. “And no, it wasn’t them. It was the bigger idiot over there going all, ‘Look at me, I’m annoyed again. Oh, I know—let me pick up Veyra, even though I can walk perfectly fine.”
Braen grinned. “Aww, don’t be scared, our little cutie queen. It’s all good—I’ll keep you safe.”
Veyra muttered, “What’s keeping me safe from your mountain hands?”
Keira laughed. “So nothing new then.” She turned to Garron. “Right, you.”
She slapped him across the face.
The crack snapped through the clearing; even the fire seemed to flinch. Everything went quiet. The circle watched to see what would happen next.
Keira shook out her stinging fingers, then smiled. “You know you hit like a bitch, right?”
Garron let out a small, helpless laugh. “You remind me too much of her.” He dropped to one knee. “Young miss—permission to address.” He squared his shoulders. “I apologize. My actions and behaviour were unacceptable.”
Keira stood there, smug. “Well, nothing other than my face is broken, so don’t cry about it. Got enough of you cry-baby men around here.” She offered a hand. “Apology accepted.”
As he reached for it, she slapped his hand aside and wrapped her arms around his neck instead. “Don’t sweat it too much—I was listening from the tent. I understand… but if you touch my brother again, you die. Got me?”
“Understood,” Garron said quietly, returning the hug.
Everyone watched the moment in a rare hush.
Solara leaned toward Caelan. “She’s pretty cute—even with the mouth she picked up from you.”
Caelan smiled. “Wouldn’t have her any other way.” He glanced around. “Wait—where the hell is Takeshi?”
The tent flap snapped, and a body exploded out, a clatter of tools and a couple of empty grenade clips spilling at his feet. He also had a grease?smeared ledger under one arm, columns scrawled: Ops Budget, Materials, Hazard Pay. “I’ve got it! I’ve finally got it!”
Half the circle jolted. Caelan swore. “What the fuck, you idiot—thought we were getting attacked.”
Solara shot him a look. “This better not be about your payment split again.”
Veyra sighed. “If he cared half as much about fighting as he does about payment splits, we might actually win this thing.”
“Shut up, Veyra,” Takeshi said, smoothing his hair. “I did all the work—as usual. Without me, none of you would be here. Remember that.”
“Take-chan, my little cutie,” Braen rumbled, “stop being mean or… You know.”
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Keira tilted her chin at Takeshi’s toes. “You know.” She muttered, “Dragon?hoard plan’s not working tonight, Take.”
“Don’t you dare,” Takeshi hissed, hopping his feet back. “Or I’m never repairing your gear again. Besides, our amazing, brilliant-minded Captain makes the final call.”
“Nope,” Caelan said.
Takeshi gaped. “Come on—I used all my grenades and bullets back there.”
“Just seventy percent—plus a materials surcharge, R&D, and handling.”
“Not happening.”
Solara turned to Keira. “What’s going on?”
“Takeshi thinks the more resources we throw at him, the better our chances,” Keira said. “We run one bag each, a house bag, and a bonus bag for MVP—he keeps trying to skim the bonus early. He once tried to invoice me for duct tape.”
Solara pinched the bridge of her nose. “Are any of you even slightly normal?”
“Shut up,” Keira grinned. “You’re just as weird as the rest of us.”
“Well, some of us bring elegance to the table, Keira.”
“Yeah, so elegant. Hey—didn’t you throw up again?”
“Be quiet.”
Behind them, Caelan and Takeshi kept sniping—counting grenades on their fingers, arguing about “depreciation,” “materials surcharge,” and “hazard fees,” and whether empty clips should count against him.
“Fine,” Caelan snapped at last. “Final deal: half my personal bag. The house bag stays for rent and food. The bonus bag goes to whoever earned MVP—if that’s you, collect it then. That’s the best you’ll get.”
Takeshi paused, calculating, then stuck out his hand. “Fine. We’re still twenty?three percent underfunded on materials, but fine. You drive a hard bargain, Captain. Always knew you had an eye for investment in our future.” Caelan knew he could hand him the moon, and he’d still haggle for the stars.
“Yeah, yeah…” Caelan shook once. “If I handed you unlimited funds, you’d still say it wasn’t enough,” he muttered, not unkindly, then flicked a look to Solara. She arched a brow and turned back to keep Keira and Takeshi occupied. “Elegance doesn’t throw up, Keira,” she murmured, which sparked fresh bickering; the camp rose back into a low buzz of chatter.
He turned to Garron. “And you—let’s take a quick walk. I want a word, if you don’t mind.”
Garron pushed up from the log. “Lead the way, Mr Captain.”
“It’s just fucking ‘Captain.’ Drop the ‘Mr’—that’s my dad’s name.”
Caelan snagged two bottles from the crate and jerked his chin for Garron to follow. They drifted off the ring of firelight, the camp’s laughter thinning into wind through needles and the hush of trees. Caelan sat on a fallen log, handed one bottle over, and took a long pull from his own.
“Damn, this place is messed up,” he said, swirling the beer. “Monsters every night, half the people go mad off a thimble of power… and somehow there’s always perfectly cold booze at the end. God-damn weird.”
Garron drank, considering. “I never tasted it cold until I got here. Sometimes I miss the warm, weak rubbish they served in the city square.” He glanced over. “Captain, I just want to say, again—”
“For the love of Christ, don’t say sorry again,” Caelan cut in. “Keira says it’s chill, so it’s chill.”
He finished the bottle, rolled it by the neck. “That’s good. Already want another.” He set it down. “Fuck it—throwing my shot out. Hear me out to the end.”
Garron nodded. “Please. Go on.”
“I’ve got three offers,” Caelan said. “Hear them all before you choose. One: You leave now. We shake hands, part ways, and I wish you well. Two: you stick with us as long as you like—no strings, no pressure. Three…” He rubbed his jaw, thinking. “…three comes with a string attached. I won’t name it unless you take it. But the offer is: join us. Properly.”
Garron’s eyes narrowed. “And the third?”
Caelan looked past the trees, voice flattening. “I’m not fighting for whatever’s at the end of all this. I train at night and make everyone train every day because if anything happens to any of them, I could’ve stopped it… I won’t live with that. And the way some people act in here—some of the Commanders? Animals. Worse than the monsters.” He caught himself, huffed a laugh. “Anyway. You don’t need to answer now. All three are on the table.”
He stood and dusted his palms. “Right. That’s me. Unless you’ve got questions, let’s get another drink. I’m pretty sure we’ve got enough to mess up a man twice your size.”
Caelan took a step back toward the camp.
“What’s the condition?” Garron asked quietly.
Caelan’s mouth pulled into a slow smile, still facing away. “So you’re choosing option three, then?”
Garron looked up. Caelan turned enough for their eyes to meet. “Tell me,” Garron said. “You have your answer.”
“Cool.” Caelan tucked his hands into his pockets, then pulled one free and offered it. “The string is this: if I ever go too far, you put me down. No matter what. I always thought Solara could do it, but… I don’t think she’d have the heart when it came to it. You promise me that, and you’re one of us.”
“I wouldn’t hesitate,” Garron said, and took his hand.
Their grips locked—firm. A thumb-sized orb of light slid out of Garron’s chest, hovered, then drifted into Caelan and vanished.
Garron flinched. “What was that? What just happened?”
“Why does everyone freak out at that?” Caelan sighed, though there was a grin in it. “We think it’s like a contract. Binds you to your commander. Happens to everyone. Details later.” He jerked his head toward the fire. “Come on—let’s get fucked up, lad. And… sorry about Keira.”
“Why? What has she done?” Garron asked, falling into step.
“You’ll see,” Caelan said, and the two of them headed back toward the glow.
They came back into the ring of firelight to find Keira latched onto Garron like a koala.
“That’s what I meant,” Caelan muttered.
“Damn, you’re huge,” Keira said, patting Garron’s shoulder. “Takes a lot to make Braen look small.”
Across the flames, Braen planted a boot. The stomp made the logs rattle, and the chatter die.
“Little one,” she said, taking a drink, “you might be our cutie. Doesn’t mean I won’t stand on you.”
Keira blinked. “Shit—code red today, or what? Chill, B-dawg. You know you’re my one and only giant, beautiful lady.”
Braen’s mouth crooked. “Do you think I’m beautiful, Keira?”
Keira climbed off Garron and up onto Braen’s shoulder with practiced ease. “Bitch, you know you’re beautiful. What other woman is strong enough to let me sit on her shoulder?”
Braen fished out a bottle and handed it up. “Here.”
“Oooh, nice—”
Solara’s hand appeared, plucking it away before Keira’s fingers closed. “You’ve had enough. Recover. More tomorrow.”
Solara tipped her chin at Garron. “I hope you know what you signed up for with these idiots. At least now I might have someone to keep me sane.”
Garron smiled, small and honest. “Better than the screams of the monsters. Or the Commanders I put down at this hour.”
“In sync,” Aidan, Milo, and Caelan breathed: “So cool.”
“Fuck, I’m jealous,” Caelan added.
“It’s not your fault, Cap. It’s genetics,” Aidan said.
Milo elbowed him. “At least we’ve got a chance. He’s stuck being short. Imagine being five-five.”
“Shut it—and a fucking half,” Caelan snapped. “Five-five and a half. Get it right. At least I’m not immortal at your heights.”
Milo put on the worst posh accent in history. “Oi, Aidan, guv’nor—don’t forget that half-inch now.”
“Why yes,” Aidan sniffed, equally awful. “I must tell the Queen when we have tea.”
“Right, I’m going to—”
“Why would he pick you?” Takeshi shouted over everyone. He jabbed a thumb at Keira. “All you did was fire some bows. I’m clearly MVP.”
“Oh, look at me, I’m Takeshi,” Veyra fired back, deadpan. “I want all the scrap bars again so I can build dumb flashy things, blah blah. Like hell it’s you.”
“Both of you shut up,” Solara said. “You both did great.”
“They started it,” they said together.
“Best let them work it out of their system,” Caelan said, then turned to Garron. “Sol— anyway. Garron, when did you figure out the system?”
Garron blinked. “What system do you mean?”
“The one that lets us be this strong—” Caelan stopped. “Aw, shit. You didn’t.”
“Sorry,” Garron said, baffled. “I’m really confused.”
“He took the hard way,” Keira said, patting Braen’s head. “No wonder he kicked your old butt, Captain.”
“I figured it out years ago—”
-
Smash cut — Police station
“—and that—” Caelan said, swinging idly in the chair—then, in an instant, he went silent.
The interview room was full of armed officers who had all found inventive ways to point guns at one man sitting politely at a table.
“What system?” Fiona asked, eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
Mark stepped in closer. “What just happened?”
Caelan stopped swinging, sat straight, and smiled ear to ear. “She’s here.”
“Who?” Fiona snapped. “Is she in the room with us now?”
“No, you idiot,” Caelan said, already standing. “My little sister. Keira. Come on, let’s go—I need to calm her down before she gets inside or she’ll wreck the place just walking through the door.”
“We can’t just let you leave, Caelan,” Mark said.
Caelan laughed. “People really aren’t going to believe me until I show them, are they? Right, come on then, places to be, people to see and all that jazz.”
They blinked.
He wasn’t in the chair anymore.
“Suspect moving eastbound!” an officer shouted from the corridor.
Mark and Fiona hit the hallway with everyone else, boots skidding, radios crackling. By the time they reached the front, Caelan was stepping into the rain-slick car park. Officers fanned into a circle around him.
“Caelan, just come back inside so we can talk about this,” Mark called.
“There’s no one here, Caelan. It’s three in the morning,” Fiona said, sweeping the lot.
“Close it up,” Mark ordered. “Leave no gaps. So—where is she—”
In the blink of an eye, a second figure knelt on the tarmac before Caelan. A girl no older than fourteen. Blonde hair, blue eyes, knuckles taped. The same jacket as his, only cleaner.
“New contact!”
“Where the hell did she come from?”
“Remove the girl—now!”
“Stand down!” Mark barked.
Neither of them so much as glanced at the guns.
Keira bowed her head and spoke in a clear, formal tone. “Captain, it is my great pleasure, as the Master Sergeant and first of the Revolutionary Army, to congratulate you on your achievements. It has been my honour to follow you on this journey.”
“I’ve already told them about you, sis,” Caelan said softly. “Drop the act.”
Keira launched into him, a flying hug that knocked a splash of rain off his coat. He caught her easily.
“Fuck,” she laughed into his shoulder, “I thought we were going to screw with them a bit first. I was about to piss myself saying all that.”
“Fuck, I’ve missed you so much,” Caelan said, voice breaking. “I couldn’t have done it without you, sis. From the bottom of my heart—thank you. I love you so much.”
A tear tracked down his cheek. Keira wiped it with a thumb.
“Don’t cry like a bitch, bro,” she said, grinning. “I love you too.”
The circle of guns wavered. Radios forgot to speak. Rain ticked on concrete.
Nothing else existed in that moment—just a brother and sister reuniting, after walking through hell and standing above it all.