The trip back to the refuge was suffocatingly silent.
Blaze had his arms crossed, staring hard at the ground like it had personally offended him. Cipher's fingers twitched against his pad, restless, as if typing out unfinished thoughts in his mind.
Shade hadn't said a word since they left the facility, his face unreadable under the dim glow of the safe house lights. Nyx sat on the edge of a crate, elbows on his knees, running a hand down his face.
And Razor? Razor was still gripping his rifle long after they'd returned, knuckles white.
No one wanted to speak first. No one wanted to say it.
Myst, standing slightly apart, could still feel the faint tremor in her hands. The aftershock of that fight, of the presence that had torn through them like a nightmare made real.
She exhaled slowly, flexing her fingers before curling them into fists.
Echo was the first to break the silence, but his voice was sharp, cutting. "It wasn't him."
No one responded.
"I mean—" he huffed out a bitter laugh, shaking his head, "—it couldn't be. It's impossible."
Cipher finally looked up from his pad, expression unreadable. "You saw what we all saw, Echo."
"No," Echo snapped, voice rising. "What I saw was some monster playing tricks on us. That thing—whatever it was, it's not him."
Shade let out a slow breath, tilting his head back. "Then how do you explain it?"
"I don't need to explain it," Echo shot back, voice fraying at the edges. "Because it's not him."
Blaze shoved off the wall suddenly, his movements stiff with tension. "We saw him fall, Echo." His voice was low, barely restrained. "I saw his body with my own damn eyes. We all did."
A heavy pause.
Myst's jaw tightened.
Nyx ran a hand through his hair. "Well, that was months ago." His voice was flat, but underneath it, there was something else. "We can't just—" He exhaled, pushing off the crate. "This doesn't make sense."
"It's a trick," Echo muttered, as if convincing himself. "That's what it is. The government knows what his existence means to us. They could be screwing with us!"
He looked at Razor, eyes searching, almost desperate. "Right?"
Razor finally moved, slowly lowering his rifle. His face remained unreadable, but his grip loosened. His voice, when it came, was quiet.
"Then why does it feel like we just lost him all over again?"
The words settled like a weight hovering above them, waiting to be dropped on their shoulders. No one answered. Because no one wanted to admit it.
The moment that figure turned, the second they felt that presence again—the cold brutality of it—some part of them shattered.
Even if they refused to believe it, they knew.
Flux wasn't supposed to be alive. He wasn't supposed to be that. But if it was him…
Then he had become something unrecognizable.
And that realization was somehow worse than losing him the first time.
Blaze exhaled sharply, pacing to the other side of the room. He looked like he wanted to punch something. Cipher's fingers tightened around his pad, his usual calculated demeanor flickering with tension. Shade sat back, rubbing a hand over his face.
Myst watched all of them, silent.
Razor finally turned away, gripping his rifle again. His voice was strained but firm. "Until we have proof, this conversation is over."
Echo scoffed but didn't argue. Blaze clenched his jaw, looking away. Nyx shut his eyes briefly before pushing off the crate, walking toward the exit without another word.
And Myst?
She looked down at her hands again.
Blue Rose stirred beneath her skin, a whisper that felt almost amused.
They still think of him as a ghost, the voice murmured. But you?
Myst inhaled, feeling the aftershock of that fight still lingering in her bones.
You know better, right?