Congratulations on selecting the: Arcane Duelist Class.

  The new skills and abilities have been added to your menu.

  A scream, sharp and terror filled, shattered the quiet. Kira. My menu winked out of existence.

  In a heartbeat, Jeff and I were on our feet, a shotgun and a pair of summoned swords appearing as we sprinted for the stairs. We burst into her room to find her sitting bolt upright in bed, her sheets tangled around her legs, her face pale and slick with sweat. Her eyes were wide and unfocused, darting around the room in a frantic search.

  “Elias… Elias? Where are you?” Her voice was a choked, disoriented whisper, lost in a nightmare that had not ended when she woke up.

  I unsummoned my blades and moved to her side, my own phantom fear a cold echo in my chest. I knelt by the bed and gently placed a hand on the back of her sweaty one.

  “I’m right here, Kira,” I said softly. “I’m right here.”

  Her head snapped toward me, her wild eyes finally focusing. A wave of disbelief, then profound relief, washed over her face. Her hand turned, her fingers gripping mine with a desperate strength.

  “You…” she stammered, her breath hitching in a sob as the phantom of her dream crashed into a real, horrific memory. “You… drowned.”

  The words hung in the quiet room. Her nightmare was my reality. I saw the memory behind her eyes: the cold river, the crushing weight, the frantic, useless bubbles of air. I tightened my grip on her hand, a solid, living anchor against the pull of that dark water.

  “I know,” I said, my voice a low murmur. “It was close. But I am here now. You saved me, remember? You pulled me back.”

  Her ragged breathing was the only sound in the room. She stared at me, her eyes tracing the lines of my face as if trying to prove I wasn’t a ghost. Her other hand came up, her trembling fingers brushing against my cheek. She flinched at the contact, a small gasp escaping her lips as she felt the warmth of my skin. Real.

  Jeff appeared in the doorway, his shotgun held loosely, his face a mask of concern. A moment later, Michelle was there beside him, a glass of water in her hand. They did not speak, their silent presence a comforting bulwark against the darkness that had followed us home.

  “You weren’t breathing,” Kira whispered, her gaze still locked on mine. “There was so much water… I tried… I thought…” A shuddering sob finally broke free, and she collapsed forward, burying her face in my shoulder.

  I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight as the terror she had been holding back finally washed over her. I felt the echo of it in my own chest, a cold, phantom weight.

  “I have you,” I whispered into her hair, the words as much for me as for her. “I am here. We are safe.”

  We stayed like that for a long time. Her sobs subsided into shaky breaths. Finally, she pulled back, wiping her eyes fiercely with the back of her hand.

  “You are still not allowed to do that again,” she said, her voice thick but firm.

  A real, weary smile touched my lips. “Deal.”

  “Breakfast is ready,” Michelle said softly from the doorway. “Both of you. Come eat.”

  The kitchen was a sanctuary, filled with the morning light and the comforting smell of bacon and coffee. We ate in a quiet that was no longer heavy with unspoken trauma, but gentle with a shared, fragile peace. For a few, precious moments, we were not soldiers. We were not Players. We were just two people, impossibly tired, sharing a meal in the quiet warmth of a sunlit kitchen, pretending the world was not burning down just outside the door.

  The warmth of the coffee mug in my hands was a small, solid anchor in a world that had come unmoored. We sat in the quiet of the sunlit kitchen, the ghosts of our nightmares held at bay by the simple, domestic sounds of a home still intact. But it was a fragile peace, a pocket of normal in a world I knew was anything but.

  “Oh Kira, I forgot to tell you! I got a class” I beamed at her shocked expression.

  “What how?” Kira immediately opened her menu in front of her. “Wow my stats took a huge jump! And look at these titles”

  “I know right. I got a class by reaching level ten. They had a bunch of options but I chose one called Arcane Duelist. What's wrong?” Kira had a hurt expression on her face.

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  “You didn’t want my opinion before choosing?” she asked, trying and failing to suppress the hurt in her voice.

  “I did but if this is a decision I might regret in the future, I wanted it to be mine alone to wear.” Kira paused at that and her expression shifted to one of understanding.

  “That makes a lot of sense. Wait you are level ten already? I am only level eight.” She harrumphed, folding her arms over the table.

  “Sorry saving my ass doesn’t give you more experience” I laughed.

  “It should since I had to do it so much” Kira joined in.

  Our exchange earned curious glances from Michelle and Jeff, a knowing smile played on Michelle’s face as she looked back and forth.

  I looked around the room, at the field outside the window, the dark forest that ran along the property. “You should move,” I blurted before I could stop myself.

  Jeff and Michelle looked up from their coffee, their expressions questioning.

  “All of you. My house. It’s a four bedroom rancher close to the detachment, fenced in backyard. There is a reading nook, an office… plenty of space. But more importantly, it is inside the perimeter the department is probably trying to set up. It will be safer there.”

  “Safer?” Jeff’s brow furrowed, his hand instinctively moving to the shotgun resting against the wall. “We are miles from the chaos. We can hold our own here.”

  “For now,” I countered, my voice gentle but firm. “But you are isolated. If a horde comes through, there is no backup. The city, the detachment, is a fortress. We will have patrols, a concentration of Players. It is the better strategic position.”

  I looked at Kira, who was staring into her mug, a silent, internal war playing out on her face. I hope she trusts me on this. Michelle looked from her husband’s stubborn pride to her daughter’s worried expression. “He’s right, Jeff. We cannot stay here alone. Look what they have gone through. They barely made it back. We can’t stop that kind of threat.”

  The fight went out of him. He looked at his wife, at his daughter, and gave a slow, weary nod.

  “As you wish dear” he conceded. Michelle reached over and squeezed his hand.

  “I will be honest, it is very much a place for me to flop between shifts. So please grab whatever you need and pack it into the vehicles to take it to the house” Jeff nodded again and the next hour became a blur of efficient motion. We loaded their pickup truck, and soon we were a two vehicle convoy, leaving their peaceful sanctuary for the grim reality of the city. My house was a modest, single story home, but it was a fortress compared to the isolation of the suburbs. I unlocked the front door and handed Jeff the keys.

  “Make yourselves at home,” I said. “Pick whichever bedrooms you want. Stocked pantry. Please, treat it like your own.” I turned to leave. “I’ll be at my apartment if you need anything.”

  We left them to settle in, the drive to the detachment was heavy with a new kind of tension. The city rolled past the window, people shuffling around or peeking from windows. Fear permeated the whole city. It was so thick I could almost taste it on the air.

  As we pulled up to the fortified gate, I saw him. Logan was sitting on the curb, his massive frame making the concrete bench look like a child’s toy. His wild, battle hungry grin was gone, replaced by a thunderous scowl.

  As we got out he rose to his feet, his massive arms crossed over his chest. “Got a minute?” he rumbled.

  “What happened, Logan?” Kira asked, her voice full of concern.

  “Got fired,” he spat, the words dripping with contempt. “We got back to North District, and our Chief was not even there. Turns out he had raided the armory and was packing to abandon his post. Then he strolls back in, expecting us, the ones who stayed and fought, to form a security detail. Act like he was still in charge.” Logan’s jaw clenched. “I called him a coward. He did not like that and he decided to get aggressive with me, threatening to arrest me. Stating I was the coward and abandoned everyone in the city to die. So I hit him.”

  My own jaw tightened. A good man, a warrior who had stood on the front line, cast out by a fool who could not see the fire burning just outside his office door.

  “You are not unemployed, and you are definitely not a coward,” I said, turning to Kira. “Hey, about the house… There is more than enough room. I was thinking… maybe I could take one of the spare rooms for now? Logan needs a place to land. He could use the apartment until he gets on his feet.”

  Kira looked from me to Logan, her expression softening with an empathy that was all her own. She looked back at me, a hint of redness coloring her cheeks as she quickly looked away. “It’s your house, Elias. You can do what you want.”

  I turned back to Logan. “The apartment is yours for as long as you need it.”

  A flicker of genuine surprise, of gratitude, cut through Logan’s anger. He gave a single, sharp nod. “Just point me at the things that need smashing.”

  “That I can do,” I said with a grim smile. Throwing him the key before giving him directions to my apartment.

  We walked through the gate into the organized chaos of the parking lot. Officers moved with a new, grim purpose, their faces hard with the knowledge of what was out there.

  “Elias!” A familiar voice called. Mikey jogged over, his face pale with a nervous energy. “Chief’s over by the command truck. But I would steer clear if I were you.” He lowered his voice, glancing over his shoulder. “Captain Howard is with him. He has been on the warpath since you got back. He is out to get you.”

  What else is new.

  I followed his gaze. Chief Dobson stood with his arms crossed, his face a stern, unreadable mask. Beside him, Captain Howard was practically vibrating with a smug, vindictive energy. With them was a portly man in a tailored suit that was already wilting in the midday heat. A politician. My gut tightened. This was the last thing I needed.

  I was about to heed Mikey’s warning when Howard’s beady eyes found mine. A cruel, triumphant smirk spread across his face.

  “Stormson! Ashwood!” he called, his voice a reedy, imperious bark that grated on my last nerve. “Over here. Now.”

  The Chief’s expression did not change, but I saw his jaw clench.

  And the hits keep coming, I thought, my hands balling into a fist at my side. The fight, it seemed, was not over yet.

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