Keira kicked the door in hard enough to make the hinges complain.
The bar beyond was dim, quiet. Hanging candles flickered softly, casting weak light. Rows of empty tables sat like abandoned islands. And in the middle of the floor: a ridiculous mountain of mismatched pillows—the only real colour in the room.
Keira didn’t spare any of it a second’s thought.
She stalked in—three quick steps. She dropped her sniper by the doorway. The dull clatter echoed through the room. Then she let herself fall, face-first, into the pile.
She sank into the pillows with a muffled groan, cheeks burning as she burrowed deeper, hiding like a kid under a duvet.
"Ughhhhhh…" The sound came out more wounded than she wanted.
Milo entered at a normal pace, leaned his gun against the wall beside the door, then kicked his boots off and padded over to the pillows.
"You alright, sis? I don’t think that he—"
Keira spun around, propping herself up on her elbows, lower lip jutting out. "Was I being an asshole?" she blurted, then winced. "Shit, I was. Ahhh, I'd better go say I’m sorry, huh?"
Milo flopped down beside her, sinking half a foot into the pile.
"You know what, I’m not going to lie…" He stared up at the cracked ceiling, hands behind his head. "He is strangely like you said he would be. And damn, I never expected you’d ever meet anyone who is, you know…"
Keira lifted a brow, eyes narrowing.
"Cute? Smart? Funny?"
Milo snorted.
"Just so downright Keira. It’s crazy. If I close my eyes, I can imagine that’s what an older, grown-man version of Keira would sound like," Milo said, shaking his head.
Keira wrinkled her nose.
"But without that tragic beard."
"Or that ponytail," Milo added quickly.
They both cracked, laughing into the pillows for a moment, the tension bleeding out.
Milo’s smile softened. "But honestly? I thought we’d had it hard since we were born." His voice dropped, the joke falling away. "Seems like he’s been through his own problems. So I don’t think you’ll need to tell him you’re sorry. Just, you know… keep being you."
Keira stared at him for a second, then slid an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a half-hug.
"And people think you’re just an idiot who makes jokes. Come here," Keira said, squeezing him.
"Love you too, sis," Milo murmured, burying his face into the pillows as if they could swallow up everything bad.
The moment was shattered with a slam of footsteps.
Aidan crashed through the doorway, almost bouncing off the frame. He doubled over, hands on his knees, sucking in air like it was trying to escape him.
"Caelan…" He wheezed. "Person… fight… killed—"
Milo and Keira were on their feet before he’d finished the last word.
Milo lunged for the door, snatching Aidan’s assault rifle out of his hands.
"Stay with sis, I’ve got this!" he shouted, already moving.
"The hell you do!" Keira snarled.
She spun, grabbed a battered backpack from where it rested against a booth, and hurled it onto the floor. Supplies spilt out—strips of cloth, tins, magazines, loose shells, and a dented thermos.
"Aidan, help me—what bag was the ammo in?"
Aidan staggered over, still catching his breath, and dropped to one knee beside her. He yanked down another smaller bag buried inside, rummaged for a second, and slapped a bundle of bullets into her palm.
"We need to be quick," he panted. "That man wasn’t messing around."
Keira grabbed the revolver off the nearest table and tossed it to him.
"Come on, load up."
She snatched up her sniper from beside the door, already sliding a fresh mag into place as she ran.
"What way? Aidan, quickly!"
Aidan’s brain snapped into focus. He sprinted past her through the doorway, boots skidding on the warped planks outside. As soon as he hit the street, he pointed back the way he’d come, toward the block where he and Caelan had split off.
"There!"
Keira didn’t hesitate. She broke into a run, sniper hugged tight to her shoulder, Aidan pushing himself to keep pace despite the stitch clawing at his side.
They barely made it out of the central square. There, they slowed to a halt.
Three more fog-wolves stood in the street ahead, blocking the way. The black, swirling forms stalked side to side, low growls vibrating in their chests, eyes burning like coals in the mist.
Aidan’s voice dropped to a mutter.
"Another three? Where did they come from? I thought…" He shook his head. "Doesn’t matter."
Keira adjusted her grip on the sniper, gritting her teeth.
"Stay close. I’ve only got five bullets left, if—" She cut herself off. "Crap."
The nearest wolf lunged.
Keira barely had time to plant her feet. She ripped the rifle up. Sight barely found centre mass. She fired. The shot slammed through the monster’s chest, its body bursting into golden orbs as it hit the ground—but the recoil knocked Keira straight onto her back. Breath woofed out of her.
Another wolf sprang for her, claws outstretched.
"Keira!" Aidan threw himself sideways, slamming into the creature mid-air. They crashed to the ground together in a tangle of fog and flailing limbs.
Keira’s scream ripped down the empty street.
"AIDAN!"
The third wolf circled, shadowy claws curling, ready to strike as Aidan wrestled the one he’d tackled. It twisted underneath him, snapping for his face, fog coiling tighter around its jaws.
A gunshot cracked across the block.
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"Kill the other one! I’ve got this!" Aidan yelled through gritted teeth.
Keira dropped to one knee, steadying the sniper despite the tremor in her bandaged arm. She lined up on the circling wolf as its claw arced down toward Aidan’s exposed back. She took the shot.
The bullet tore through the swirling shadow, punching straight through the wolf’s raised claw and out the back of its head. The creature dissolved mid-stride into a spray of golden orbs.
The wolf under Aidan sank its teeth into his arm, and he screamed, pain ripping a raw edge into his voice. Rage took over where fear had been; he yanked the revolver from the back of his trousers and jammed it into the fog-beast’s side.
He fired. Once. Twice.
The wolf stopped moving after the second shot—but Aidan emptied all five rounds into it anyway, finger locked on the trigger, breath coming in harsh sobs by the last click.
Only when it broke apart into drifting gold did he slump back, clutching his bleeding arm.
Keira was on him in seconds, grabbing him into a fierce hug before pulling herself back to arm’s length, eyes blazing.
"Are you okay? What were you thinking? I would’ve expected this from those two—" she jabbed a thumb blindly back toward the bar "—don’t scare me like that!"
Aidan gritted his teeth, forcing himself to his feet with her help.
"We’ve not got time for this," he said, jaw clenched. "We need to go. Caelan—he needs us."
Keira swallowed hard, nodded once, and slid her arm under his to support him.
"Right. Let’s get those two before anything else turns up."
They limped forward together, golden orbs drifting away behind them.
Back in the street, the knife was already coming down.
Caelan lay on his back where the last strike had put him, lungs burning, gravel digging into his shoulders. Above him, the man loomed with that same evil grin plastered across his face, knife held in both hands, point aimed between Caelan’s eyes.
Caelan's left arm was pinned uselessly under the man's knee. His right arm snapped up on instinct, fingers clamping around the bastard’s wrist. Steel stopped a breath above his throat. Every muscle in his body screamed as the man pressed down, inch by inch, forcing the blade closer.
"You know," the man said, laughing breathlessly, "you’d make for some interesting fodder if you understood your place in here. What do you say? Do you want to follow the one who is destined to rule over everything by divine right?"
Caelan barked a strained laugh, still fighting the knife back. "Tempting. But sadly, I’ve got a slight problem with doing what I’m told."
"Pity," the man purred, grin stretching wider as he leaned more weight onto the blade. The cold tip kissed Caelan’s skin. "Now fall to your new god—"
Meanwhile, elsewhere, someone came skidding around the corner.
Milo didn’t even have time to shout. By the time his brain processed man on top of Caelan, knife, the rifle was already up, stock braced, sight lined.
"Wait!" Caelan snapped.
Too slow.
The rifle cracked once. The round punched straight through the man’s upper arm. He screamed, the limb going slack as the knife clattered from numb fingers. He toppled sideways off Caelan, clutching the wound.
"HOW DARE YOU!" he howled, staring at the blood in disbelief. "Do you know who I am?!"
"Someone about to shut up," Caelan growled.
He rolled with him, forcing the man flat and ending up on top this time. His hand shot out, snatching the dropped knife. He grabbed the man’s wrist with his other hand and twisted, bringing the blade down toward the bastard’s own throat.
The man’s eyes went wide. "Wait, wait! I am meant to be the chosen one! Get off me, I trained for this—what have you done—"
"Chosen one my fucking arse," Caelan hissed.
He put everything he had into the shove.
The knife punched through skin and muscle, burying to the hilt in the man’s neck.
The scream cut off in a choking gargle as blood flooded his mouth. He flailed weakly, fingers scraping at Caelan’s shirt, then slipped away. His hands fell to his sides. A moment later, his whole body began to come apart, crumbling into drifting golden orbs that slid through Caelan’s blood-slick fingers and spiralled up into the grey sky.
Caelan stayed there. Stared down at the empty patch of street, chest heaving. The knife slipped from his hand and thunked into the dirt beside him.
Boots crunched up behind him.
Milo rested a hand between Caelan’s shoulders, fingers light. "It’s alright," he said quietly. "You didn’t have a choice."
Something in Caelan broke loose. He threw his head back and laughed, loud and jagged and nothing like his usual cackle.
"Is this what you wanted?" he shouted at the sky, voice cracking. "These are the type of people you want to give godly powers to? Is this what you expect us all to become? Don’t make me fucking laugh."
Milo let out a long sigh. "So alike," he muttered under his breath. Then, louder, forcing the mood to shift: "Right. Come on. Let’s get back to them. Captain Idiot and Sergeant Idiot’ll be panicking."
Caelan blinked, as if remembering something for the first time. "Shit. The others."
He pushed himself to his feet, scooped up his katana, and the two of them took off at a run, heading back toward the bar.
They came around the last corner just as Keira and Aidan limped into the square from the other side.
"Calm down," Aidan called, lifting his good hand when he saw them sprinting in. "We’re fine. Mostly."
Milo took in the new bite marks on Aidan’s arm and the fresh scrapes and dust on Keira. "What the hell happened to yous?" he demanded.
Keira stomped up and slapped him on the back of the head. "Guess you didn’t notice the other pack of those wolf things coming when you ran off," she snapped—then immediately grabbed him into a hug before he could answer. Her voice softened against his shoulder. "But you’ve always been the crazy one."
"I’m the crazy one?" Milo mumbled, but he hugged her back.
Caelan stood a little off to the side, clutching his bleeding arm, gaze fixed on the cobbles. Keira let go of Milo and turned towards him.
They both spoke at the same time.
"So—"
They stopped, caught, then laughed weakly.
"Let me go first," Keira said, rubbing her neck. "Please."
Caelan managed a crooked smile. "Sure. On you go."
She shuffled a step closer, eyes suddenly nervous. "I know I’ve been pushing you to, well, you know… and it’s not fair to shove it on you if you don’t want to. I just—"
Caelan stepped in and wrapped his good arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a brief, awkward hug. "Damn, you’re as bad as me at apologising," he muttered. He sighed, visibly bracing himself. "I guess if we’re going to be stuck together in this place, well… em…"
Keira kicked him in the shin without moving out of the hug. "Say it."
"Ow." He winced. "Little sis."
Keira went incandescent. She seized fistfuls of his jacket and shook him side to side, mumbling something into his chest that nobody else could make out.
"What was that?" Caelan asked.
Keira stepped back, grin stretching from ear to ear. "Oh, nothing, big brother."
As she said it, a small golden orb peeled itself out of her chest, floating lazily across the narrow gap between them before sinking into Caelan’s sternum.
Milo gaped. "What was that?"
Aidan groaned, throwing his head back. "I like the guy, I didn’t mean this."
Caelan stared at his hands, then at Keira. "What did you do?"
"Nothing much," Keira said, tone far too innocent. "Just made it official that I’m going to make sure my big brother can’t go running off without me."
"THIS ISN’T WHAT I MEANT!" Caelan spluttered.
Keira clapped once. "Deal with it. Right, you two—" she pointed at Milo and Aidan "—say hello to our big brother. I know he’s outrageously late, but…"
Aidan crossed his arms. "We aren’t children. No way. Not happening."
Milo nodded firmly. "Gotta agree with him here, sis. Captain Idiot over there is nice and all, but yeah—a little weird. Think I’ll stick to Captain Idiot, since, you know, someone decided we’re going to be following him through this apocalypse."
"That can work for me," Aidan said. "Our very own Captain Idiot and his sidekick."
"I’m not a sidekick!" Keira snapped.
"I’m not that dumb," Caelan muttered—then froze as both Milo and Aidan straightened and spoke in unison.
"I hereby pledge to become your follower."
"Wait—" Caelan started.
Two more golden orbs lifted from the boys’ chests and drifted into him before he could finish.
He let out a long, suffering sigh.
"So you’re in charge now?" Aidan asked, raising a brow. "Proper commander and everything?"
"Apparently," Caelan said. "And as much as I love the vote of confidence, I’m thinking the three of you missed one major problem just now."
Keira shrugged. "Don’t see a problem. You’re stuck with us—that’s a pure win in my books."
Caelan dropped a hand onto her head, ruffling her hair. "Maybe you forgot one thing. You morons didn’t have to follow me. We all could’ve just stayed unpledged together." If someone eliminates me now, you lot have to find another commander, or you’re screwed."
Milo just grinned. "Ride or die, Cap. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?"
A distant chorus of howling wolves rolled across the warped streets.
Caelan stared in their direction, intensely rubbing his forehead. "…Shit. Fuck it, done now. Who’s ready to rip this place a new arsehole, then?"
"Whoa, whoa, not too fast," Keira said, holding up a hand. "Ground rules. I want a bedroom and my own bathroom. Sure, the bar is nice, but the girl needs her own space. Oh, and not that I’m counting, but big bro has got me, what, one cup of hot chocolate since I woke up here? You two had better get hunting or else."
"If we’re making a list," Aidan added, "I wouldn’t mind some comfy chairs."
"And one of those pink flamingo things people stick in front of their houses!" Milo chimed in. "Always wanted one of those."
Caelan stared at them, expression somewhere between horror and reluctant fondness. "Trust me to enter some war thing and end up babysitting. Right—if we can find it, you can get it. If we can’t, no moaning. Oh, and one thing: if we find coffee or cigarettes, to me, please."
Keira smacked him full-force on the back of the head. "Ow—"
"No," she snapped. "My brothers don’t smoke."
"But I smok—"
She hit him again. "MY BROTHERS AREN’T SMOKERS."
Caelan rubbed his skull, muttering. Keira turned toward the centre of the square, eyes catching on the floating board as it flickered and updated.
Commanders remaining: 1,847,220,527,813
Followers remaining: 567,521
Days elapsed: 3
Eliminated: 661,910
Caelan’s smile turned sharp as he read it. "Well, guys… let’s get cracking. Looks like everyone else is already moving."
Keira threw her fists in the air. "FUCK YEAH, BITCH! PLACE IS GOING TO BUUUURN!"

