“Go fish!”

  Ozzy exclaimed—laughing loud enough to make the empty townhouse feel almost normal.

  Him, Tabia, Crisper, and Jamal were all gathered around the dining room table, playing with a deck of cards they’d found in one of the drawers.

  They weren’t anything like Earth cards.

  The art was strange. The edges warped. The symbols way too ornate.

  But the pattern was familiar enough.

  Four suits. Repeated numbers or what seemed like numbers.

  So a game like Go Fish was easy.

  It was pointless.

  And somehow…

  Necessary.

  Ozzy had taken off his bloody white cape and tossed it over the back of a chair so Tabia could work the stains out. He still had the blindfold on, of course.

  Jamal sat stiffly in the chair beside Crisper, a little more awake now, a little more present.

  And a lot more annoyed.

  Still, even he looked surprised when he noticed Ozzy’s locs.

  A brotha with locs… in a place like this?

  The universe had jokes.

  Jamal was wearing the coat he stole off Cale—the stupid poetry elf he’d switched down.

  Luckily, the coat had fixed itself like it had a mind of its own.

  The bullet holes were gone and it adjusted to his body.

  Crisper had changed too. No more ragged hoodie and sweats. She was in a combat uniform now, fitted and practical, her rainbow hair tied back into a tight bun.

  Tabia sat across from them, calm and regal even while holding a hand of cards.

  And she looked… unreal.

  Her teal-and-white hair shimmered like living flame, twisting with streaks of violet and ember-light. Crimson eyes glowed like fractured stars, set against skin traced with indigo markings that pulsed faintly with power. Her crown of molten red coral looked less like an ornament and more like something grown from her essence—regal yet warlike.

  Her armor—blue and silver, sculpted in a lattice that clung like it had been forged for her alone.

  Even in a quiet room.

  She was still a weapon.

  Still a queen.

  Ozzy fanned his cards dramatically.

  “Alright, Jamal,” he said, grin wide. “You got any… eights?”

  Jamal narrowed his eyes. “Blood, I don’t even know what an eight look like in this deck.”

  Crisper snorted. “Skill issue.”

  Tabia’s lips twitched like she almost smiled, then she caught herself and went serious again.

  Jamal pointed at Ozzy. “And why you so happy, bro? We literally almost died.”

  Ozzy shrugged like that was exactly the reason.

  “Because,” he said, flipping a card into his pile, “if we don’t laugh, we break.”

  Crisper leaned back in her chair. “Facts.”

  Tabia quietly set a pair down, perfectly aligned. “Go fish.”

  Ozzy slapped the table like he’d been struck by a tragedy.

  “Noooo! Cruel! Heartless!”

  Jamal reached for the deck. “I’m about to fish my foot into your—”

  “Language!” Ozzy cut in instantly, laughing again.

  Jamal leaned back in his chair, letting it creak against the wooden floor. “Blood… I wish we had some smokes or some shit,” he muttered, rubbing his face. He looked around the table, eyes tired but still sharp. “And what we waitin on?”

  Crisper didn’t even look up as she drew a card.

  “Destiny and North fought and disappeared about thirty minutes ago,” she said casually. “We just letting them get their issues out.”

  Jamal chuckled. “What type of toxic shit they got goin’ on?”

  Ozzy shrugged like it was common knowledge. “Y’know… the domestic kind.”

  Jamal laughed and leaned forward, elbows on the table.

  “Yo blood… where you from?” he asked Ozzy. “You not a magical motherfucka like the rest of these jokers, right?”

  Crisper glanced over with a flat look. “I’m an Outlander, dude.”

  Jamal squinted at her. “You a video game person. Blood… we not the same.”

  Crisper rolled her eyes. “You make magical basketballs.”

  “You can do what—” Ozzy exclaimed.

  Jamal nodded, satisfied. “Yeah. Make a court and what not. Plus some other shit. But that ain’t important right now.”

  He leaned in closer, voice lowering like he was finally asking the real question.

  “I wanna know who da hell y’all are since we all grouping up and shit. Also, blood…” he nodded at Ozzy’s face, “…what’s with the blindfold?”

  Ozzy’s smile widened like he’d been waiting all day for introductions.

  He stood up dramatically.

  Tabia sighed like she already knew he was about to be extra.

  Ozzy placed a hand over his chest like he was announcing himself to an arena.

  “I am Ozzy,” he proclaimed, “captain of the crew that was sent here to help North! By decree of our goddess—Mi’Lerntra Di Xucruul—of the Occulted Moon!”

  Jamal blinked. “Blood… why you got a glowing X in ya head?”

  Ozzy tapped it proudly. “Helps with my eyes.”

  Jamal leaned back a bit. “How.”

  Ozzy laughed. “I can’t say anymore, my fellow loc brethren.”

  Jamal’s eyes widened slightly. “Loc brethren?” He nodded like that was real. “Aight.”

  Ozzy continued, sweeping an arm toward Tabia like she was royalty.

  “But that’s my role and why I’m here. And this beautiful being next to me is my good companion… and co-captain—Tabia.”

  Tabia gave a single, perfect nod.

  Jamal stared at her for a second. “She can’t talk?”

  Tabia’s crimson eyes slid to him.

  “I have nothing to say,” she answered flatly.

  Jamal chuckled. “Shit my fault, blood.”

  Tabia’s brow twitched. “…Blood?”

  Ozzy’s grin turned mischievous.

  “Oh!” he said, delighted. “It’s when you’re part of a gang.”

  Tabia’s eyes narrowed. “I am not.”

  Ozzy waved it off. “No no, it’s like—how do I explain it—street kinship. Earth human thing.”

  Jamal pointed at her gently. “It’s respect.”

  Tabia looked unconvinced.

  Ozzy leaned closer to her, whispering like he was teaching sacred knowledge. “Basically, if he calls you blood… it means he’s cool with you.”

  Tabia stared at Jamal, then back at Ozzy. “That is… inefficient.”

  Crisper snorted.

  Jamal laughed. “Nah she funny.”

  While Ozzy continued his goofy little gang-translation session, Jamal leaned over toward Crisper and nodded subtly toward the living room.

  “The elf on the couch…” he whispered. “Who dat?”

  Crisper followed his gaze. Her voice stayed low. “Yeah. That’s the elf you talked to in the city before the evac got us.”

  Jamal’s face tightened. “Damn. Someone fucked shawty up.”

  Crisper shot him a warning look. “Chill.”

  Jamal raised his hands. “I’m chill. I’m just sayin’. That’s crazy.”

  “Soooo…” Ozzy cooed, voice light, almost playful.

  Everyone at the table looked at him.

  Ozzy’s smile didn’t fade.

  “Let’s discuss logistics.”

  They blinked at him like he’d just spoken a foreign language.

  Jamal frowned. “Logis—what?”

  Crisper’s head tilted. Tabia’s eyes narrowed. Even she looked confused.

  Ozzy lifted a finger like he was teaching a class.

  “Don’t mistake the silence for peace,” he said, still smiling. “Silence is the moment before you’re struck.”

  He leaned forward, elbows on the table, blindfold angled toward each of them in turn like he could see their faces anyway.

  “So it’s better to use silence to prepare.”

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  Jamal and Crisper exchanged a look.

  Ozzy’s smile sharpened a little.

  “Also,” he added, “we need something to show when those two rabbits get back from their den.”

  Jamal blinked. “Rabbits?”

  Crisper blinked too. “…Den?”

  Ozzy nodded like it was obvious. “North and Destiny.”

  Jamal squinted. “Bro why you callin’ them rabbits?”

  Ozzy chuckled. “Because they keep hopping into danger, making noise, and acting like the world won’t chew them up.”

  Tabia sighed like the analogy hurt her brain.

  Crisper leaned back. “Okay, Captain guy. So what’s the plan?”

  Ozzy tapped the table twice.

  “We need information.”

  Jamal raised a brow. “Information on what?”

  Ozzy’s smile thinned—just a little.

  “On who betrayed the crew,” he said calmly. “On where Jack and Tinsurnae is. On what that black being was. And on why S?urtinaui is alive when everyone else became… dust.”

  ———

  Destiny sighed and tugged North’s cape tighter around her waist.

  “I guess I’ll wear the cape.”

  Golden Ryun shimmered over the fabric like paint catching sunlight—then the cloth shifted, stretching and folding until it became long pants that actually fit her.

  North stared, watching someone disrespect physics.

  “I’m definitely gonna need that back,” he said immediately.

  Destiny glared at him.

  “It messes with the drip and aura.”

  “You are such a child,” she deadpanned. “How old are you?”

  “I’m a grown man. Twenty-two…” North paused, then squinted like the thought just occurred to him. “Wait… how old are you…?”

  Destiny smiled like she’d been waiting for that.

  “A bit late to worry about that now?”

  North’s eyes widened. “Well I mean I figured… please don’t be a teenager.”

  Destiny laughed. “I’m 19. But technically 20 since I been in Requiem a little over a year.”

  North blinked.

  “Huh?”

  “One year here is two on Earth,” she explained casually.

  North exhaled. “Completely forgot about that.”

  “Probably because you keep ogling me.”

  “Stop being oglable.”

  “That’s not a word.”

  Destiny flicked her hair and crossed her arms like she’d invented grammar.

  “I can make any word up I want!” North said while he pointed at her chest. “And put ya shirt back on. It’s distracting.”

  Destiny scoffed while pulling it on anyway. “I would say the same for your pants, but—”

  “Shut up!”

  They both laughed while fixing themselves up—dirty, bruised, and half-dead.

  It felt good.

  Like a stolen moment they didn’t deserve.

  But North still had questions gnawing through him.

  “Hey, D—”

  “Don’t call me that,” Destiny snapped instantly. “Jamal calls me that already.”

  “So?”

  “I hate people calling me the same thing.”

  North took a deep breath.

  God, she was difficult.

  “DES?” he tried. “Better?”

  Destiny smiled.

  “Anyway,” North said as they started floating up from the basement, rubble rumbling under their feet, “are we—”

  “I said I’ll let you know after this is all over,” she cut in.

  “Yeah I know, but now—”

  Destiny rolled her eyes like she was dealing with a needy pet.

  “That was just a way to help me make my decision faster,” she said.

  North stared. “So I was just… pumped and dumped?”

  Destiny laughed, loud and shameless. “No. You were giving me a better idea of what I was working with.”

  North blinked.

  “…Working with?”

  Destiny shrugged innocently.

  North pointed at her. “You’re evil.”

  She grinned. “That’s been apparent.”

  They exited the ruined house—stepping into morning light as the three suns rose higher.

  And then Destiny stopped smiling.

  Because the golden wave was out there.

  Not far.

  A slow apocalypse creeping closer like it had all the time in the world.

  North’s smile faded too. He shook his head once, like he was trying to rattle the anger back into place. “So what now?”

  “We regroup,” Destiny said, voice firm again. “Hopefully everyone’s up.”

  “I doubt she’s up.”

  “That’s fine,” Destiny replied. “We’ll see if we can do more aura healing.”

  She looked at North sideways.

  North blinked. “What?”

  Destiny tilted her head. “We good now?”

  North stared at her for a moment.

  Then nodded once, honest.

  “Oh yeah. We straight.”

  Destiny smiled. “Good.”

  Then she poked his chest lightly like she couldn’t help herself.

  “Because you need Ryun training like yesterday. And we need to figure out that Sryun…”

  North smirked, the edge coming back just enough to sound like himself again.

  “Sryun won’t be too bad to handle.” He looked at her. “Enjoy this superior streak while it last, blondie.”

  As they got back to the house, they walked in and saw everyone still playing Go Fish like the world outside wasn’t actively trying to erase them.

  Destiny’s eyes narrowed in surprise when she spotted Jamal sitting upright at the table.

  He gave her a small head nod.

  Still pissed.

  But alive.

  That counted.

  Ozzy smiled like this was a family reunion. “Look who’s back… and all snuggled.”

  North and Destiny’s faces went red at the same time.

  Crisper laughed.

  North didn’t even bother denying it—he just looked past everyone toward the couch.

  “S?urtinaui,” he asked quietly. “Has she gotten up?”

  Everyone shook their head.

  Ozzy leaned back in his chair, tapping the deck like he was conducting a war meeting disguised as a card game.

  “While we been playing Go Fish,” he said, “and while I’ve been winning—”

  “I AM NOT LOSING,” Jamal snapped.

  Crisper pointed at Ozzy. “You’re literally cheating.”

  Ozzy grinned. “Skill issue.”

  Then his voice turned more serious.

  “We’ve been trying to figure out what happened to Jack,” Ozzy continued. “Since he isn’t here, and I doubt he died. Tinsurnae is also M.I.A…”

  North’s expression hardened instantly.

  Ozzy kept going. “Plus this black being… and whatever slaughtered my crew. But so far…”

  He spread his hands.

  “…considering Crisper and Jamal weren’t there, and me and Tabia don’t have anymore information besides what S?urtinaui said… everything kinda came to a dead end.”

  He pointed at Jamal without missing a beat.

  “Except Jamal needs Ryun training.”

  “What, blood?!” Jamal barked.

  Destiny laughed. “Well he won’t be alone.”

  North blinked. “Huh?”

  Destiny nodded toward him. “North needs it too.”

  Ozzy looked at North.

  Then nodded slowly.

  “Yeah…”

  North’s eyes widened. “Hey!”

  Tabia sighed like she was already tired of all of this.

  “Whatever we do, we need to do it fast,” she said. “While you all been talking, I been thinking. If me and the Princess of Vari use aura healing and Ryun, we can probably wake her up faster.”

  North’s posture snapped tight. “That’s dangerous. Have you lost your—”

  “We don’t have time,” Tabia cut in.

  “I don’t care!”

  “North—”

  “We aren’t—”

  Jamal leaned forward. “Look, blood, if she got answers and no one else was dere—”

  “Shut the hell up,” North snapped instantly. “We are NOT putting—”

  “Who da fuc—“

  Destiny placed a hand on North’s shoulder. While Crisper put her hands on Jamal. Telling him to calm down.

  “Relax,” Destiny said, quiet but heavy. “Everyone relax.”

  North’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t pull away.

  Ozzy raised his hand.

  Destiny turned her head slightly. “Yeah, Ozzy,” she said calmly.

  Ozzy cleared his throat like he was about to speak at a council meeting.

  “I get your fear, North,” he said. “But we do need her up ASAP.”

  He nodded toward Tabia.

  “Plus Tabia is one of the best healers I know.”

  Then he nodded toward Destiny.

  “And I’m sure Destiny’s good at aura healing too, considering her background.”

  North looked down at Ozzy’s white cloth—

  Ozzy smiled faintly. “So I would say… trust them.”

  North’s fist clenched.

  Ozzy continued. “And while they do that—I’ll train you and Jamal in Ryun. A crash course!”

  Crisper’s eyes widened. “Well damn. What about me?”

  “You’ll be my support,” Ozzy said like he’d already decided that ten minutes ago.

  North’s voice came out sharp. “We don’t have time.”

  “We don’t,” Ozzy agreed. “But right now it’s us versus the world.”

  His tone grew heavier.

  “And at this rate… we’ll lose.”

  Jamal exhaled hard. “Yeah, fuck that. I ain’t holding nobody back and I ain’t dying here all sorry.”

  North’s head snapped. “Bro what—what you say?”

  Jamal pointed at him. “What’s ya problem, blood!?”

  “Guys!” Ozzy yelled suddenly.

  Everyone paused.

  Ozzy stood up, arms wide, voice turning theatrical.

  “We’re all in this together—”

  And then he started singing High School Musical.

  Jamal laughed immediately, like he couldn’t help it.

  North smirked, despite himself.

  Crisper shook her head like this was the dumbest shit she’d ever seen.

  Tabia looked like she wanted to walk into the lake and never return.

  Destiny just sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose—half amused, half exasperated.

  North stared at all of them.

  Then he exhaled.

  “Fine,” he said. “Just be ultra careful with her.”

  Tabia nodded once. “You have my word.”

  Destiny gave North’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

  They locked eyes for half a second—

  Then everyone split up.

  The girls moved toward the couch to heal the elf. And everyone else headed outside.

  Once outside, the air felt colder.

  Not because of the weather.

  Ozzy stepped into the middle of the street like this was a training yard and not the ruins of a town that had already been abandoned by hope. He rolled his shoulders once, cracked his neck, and lifted his hands.

  “Alright,” he said, voice light.

  North and Jamal stared at him.

  Ozzy smiled wider.

  “Attack me.”

  North blinked. “Really?”

  Jamal frowned. “Blood… forreal?”

  Ozzy nodded. “Yes.”

  They both just looked at him like he’d finally lost it.

  Ozzy’s smile didn’t change, but his tone did. It sharpened.

  “This is a crash course,” he said. “We don’t have time to train the normal way. You need to evolve now… or we die.”

  North’s jaw tightened.

  Jamal shifted his weight, eyes narrowing.

  Ozzy continued, “So I need to know your strengths and weaknesses.”

  He pointed at North first.

  “North—you gotta reassess. You aren’t as strong as you were before. Not right now.”

  North’s eyes pulsed faintly, irritation and truth mixing together.

  Ozzy pointed at Jamal.

  “And you—raw talent. I can see that. But I don’t know how far it goes.”

  Jamal’s lips pressed together. “You bouta find out.”

  Ozzy spread his arms out.

  “Good,” he said simply. “Show me.”

  North and Jamal looked at each other again.

  A silent agreement.

  Fine.

  If this was what it took to not be useless—

  Then they’d do it.

  Both of them took their stances.

  North’s feet shifted into a boxer’s angle, shoulders loose but dangerous, lightning faintly crawling across his knuckles like it was itching to be used.

  Jamal’s posture was different—less formal, more instinctive. Like a street fighter mixed with someone who has been in too many fantasy brawls.

  Crisper climbed up onto a nearby roof and laid flat, rifle angled outward, eyes scanning the town.

  No surprises.

  No ambush.

  Just them.

  Ozzy tilted his head, blindfold facing forward like it could see the exact moment they decided to move.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” he said.

  North exhaled once.

  Jamal cracked his neck.

  Then they charged.

  Two different storms aimed at the same target—

  And Ozzy didn’t move.

  Not yet.

  He just waited… smiling.

  Jamal didn’t hesitate.

  The moment Ozzy said attack, something in Jamal’s chest sparked like a dare he’d been waiting his whole life to hear.

  Ryun poured into his hands and—like instinct—his Soulball formed.

  A glowing basketball of motion aura, semi-transparent and blazing like it had its own heartbeat. It bounced once and the sound wasn’t rubber on pavement.

  It was a shockwave.

  The air buckled.

  Dust lifted.

  Then Jamal moved.

  He hit the ground with a dribble and his feet slid sideways like he’d greased the world itself.

  “Alright,” Jamal muttered. “Let’s see what you got.”

  He snapped into a Crossfade, pivoting so fast his body split into afterimages—micro-realities overlapping for a fraction of a second. It looked like he existed in three places at once, like the universe couldn’t decide which Jamal was real.

  Ozzy smiled.

  North surged in behind it, lightning already crawling over his arms. Red and black sparks hissed and snapped like living rage. He didn’t even aim for elegance.

  He aimed for impact.

  A bolt shot from his palm—straight at Ozzy’s chest.

  At the same time Jamal flicked the Soulball forward, spinning it like a bullet meant to ricochet off Ozzy’s timing.

  The street lit up with movement and electric violence—

  And Ozzy stepped aside like he was strolling through a market.

  Not dodging.

  Drifting.

  The lightning passed his shoulder.

  The Soulball whistled by his ribs.

  Ozzy didn’t even flinch.

  Jamal’s eyes widened.

  “What—”

  Ozzy’s blindfold tilted toward him. “Keep going.”

  Jamal’s pride took that personally.

  He slammed his foot down.

  A metaphysical court exploded outward in a twenty-meter radius. The air thickened like syrup. North felt it instantly—his movement suddenly heavier, like gravity had grabbed his ankles.

  But Jamal?

  Jamal slid like a ghost on hardwood.

  His bounce sharpened. His steps became art.

  He drove in with the Soulball spinning, then leaped—

  He charged the ball with compressed Ryun and hammered it at Ozzy.

  The street collapsed inward.

  A gravity crunch snapped the foundations of nearby buildings, pulling everything toward the epicenter like the world was inhaling—

  Then the kinetic backlash detonated upward.

  A shockwave meant to erase Ozzy.

  But Ozzy wasn’t there.

  Jamal froze.

  Because Ozzy was suddenly beside him.

  And the ball—

  The Soulball—

  Was in Ozzy’s hand, held it like it belonged to him.

  Jamal’s mouth opened.

  “…What the hell?”

  Ozzy smirked. “I know what you need.”

  He tossed the ball once, tested the weight, then casually snatched the rhythm out of Jamal’s stance.

  A sweep of Ozzy’s leg—

  Jamal’s footing vanished.

  He hit the ground hard, coughing as the air punched out of him.

  Ozzy pointed down at him.

  “You’ll work with Crisper,” Ozzy said. “I’ll hop in when I’m needed.”

  Jamal blinked up, wheezing.

  “Bro… what?”

  Ozzy didn’t answer.

  Because North was already on him.

  North lunged, lightning roaring off his arms in wild arcs, weaponized anger looking for a face to break.

  Ozzy moved.

  A blur.

  North felt the first cut across his ribs before he even saw the swing.

  Then the second.

  Then the third.

  Then the fourth and fifth like the air itself had been sharpened.

  Blood sprayed in short bursts.

  North’s eyes widened.

  His brain didn’t catch up fast enough.

  Ozzy’s blade carved him again, and again—

  Until North was launched away, body ripping through buildings like a cannonball.

  Walls shattered.

  Floors collapsed.

  He tumbled through two structures and finally slammed into the street in a crater of broken stone and dust.

  North’s ears rang.

  His aura sputtered.

  He tried to stand.

  And Ozzy was already there.

  Hovering above him.

  Calm.

  Smiling.

  “You,” Ozzy said gently, voice almost affectionate. “My good friend.”

  North spat blood.

  Ozzy raised his blade.

  Five Reapers manifested behind him—silent, towering figures of death-energy shaped like executioners.

  Ozzy’s smile widened.

  “You’re gonna stop pretending—”

  North’s eyes blazed.

  His sigils returned, rotating faster, burning like warning signs etched into his soul.

  Ozzy nodded like he’d been hoping for that.

  “—or die.”

  The grin Ozzy wore wasn’t playful anymore.

  It was the grin of someone who’d already decided North’s pain was acceptable collateral.

  North tried to move—

  A crackle of aura.

  A burst of lightning.

  Anything—

  But Ozzy was faster.

  Ozzy’s blade pierced North’s chest.

  North’s breath hitched.

  His vision white-noised.

  “Don’t be afraid of the blood, North. Be afraid of what you become when you pretend it isn’t yours.”

  And then the Reapers plunged their blades into him.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  Four.

  Five.

  Each strike drove him deeper into the ground until stone swallowed him and the impact sounded like a coffin being nailed shut.

  Darkness poured into North’s vision.

  Not unconsciousness—

  invasion.

  The world faded.

  The last thing North saw before the blackness took him…

  Was Ozzy’s smile.