The door creaked open.
Zei stepped inside, his feet dragging lightly across the wooden floor. His eyes were glazed over, pupils dilated like he wasn't fully there—like something else had dragged him through the streets and dumped him back in the house without his permission. His breath came in slow, steady gasps, as if he hadn't realized he'd been holding it in all this time.
The house was dim, the sun just beginning to dip under the ruined skyline, casting golden shadows along the broken furniture and battered walls. The place had been randomly chosen during one of their desperate searches for shelter. A once cozy single-story house, now quiet and stripped of life.
"Zei? Where did you go?" Hana's voice came from the old leather sofa where she sat cross-legged, her eyes flicking up from a small, half-broken flashlight she'd been fiddling with.
Zei didn't answer.
