As the last of the killing machines retreated into the shadows, their mechanical forms melting into the darkness like ghosts. Their defeat was almost surreal, the realization sinking in slowly: we had won. I staggered, my knees trembling, barely able to process the shift in the air—the oppressive aura of danger lifting, replaced by the tentative flicker of relief.
Baihe reached me first, her arms wrapping around me tightly. I froze, her embrace anchoring me to reality. She murmured something I couldn't quite catch—words of reassurance, perhaps—but all I could hear was the pounding of my heart, loud and unrelenting.
"Why didn't you protect yourself?!" Yike's voice snapped through the fragile quiet like a whip. She grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking me with unexpected force. "You could've died out there, Taryn! What were you thinking?!"
"I—" My throat felt constricted, the words refusing to form.
The words hung heavy in the air between us, Yike's anger cutting through the fragile relief like shards of glass.
How could I make her understand that my choice to fight wasn't just about bravery—it was about my family, about giving them a chance to survive?
Besides, Yike does not react like this.
"He's right," Zichen added, his tone gentler but no less firm. He stood beside his sister, arms crossed, his eyes locked onto me with a mix of frustration and concern.
"What you did was suicidal. We were all watching, and it was reckless."
From the corner of my eye, I noticed the others—the students who had gathered nearby, their expressions solemn. A few nodded in agreement, their silent judgment pressing down on me like a physical weight.
Zichen's younger sister caught my attention. She was smaller than the others, with wide, curious eyes that seemed to look straight through me. Her gaze wasn't accusing, like the others.
Instead, it held something I couldn't quite decipher— Understanding? Knowing? It was unsettling, and I forced myself to look away.
"I wasn't trying to—" I started, my voice faltering. "I had to make sure my family got away."
"And who would've saved you if we hadn't showed up?" Yike interrupted, his sharp tone cutting through my weak defense.
"I'm not a coward," I shot back, my exhaustion sparking a flicker of defiance. "I was doing what I thought was right."
It also shocked me that Yike's concern rattled me more than I cared to admit.
For years, his sharp words and biting rivalry had been a constant—a backdrop to every interaction. But now, as I stared into his eyes, I saw something entirely different. The fire of animosity seemed to have dimmed, replaced by a flicker of something more profound, more complex.
Concern, maybe even affection. I couldn't tell if it was just the exhaustion playing tricks on me or if this moment marked a shift in the dynamic I thought I understood so well.
I glanced at Zichen and Baihe. Their faces mirrored Yike's sentiment—equal parts frustration and worry. The students who lingered nearby shared the same weight in their expressions.
Their murmurs carried the unspoken truth: I had put everyone and myself at risk.
Zichen said quietly, his words carrying a weight that silenced me. "We could've lost you, Taryn. And don't think we wouldn't feel it."
A pang of guilt settled in my chest, the reality of their words sinking in. I looked around, taking in the faces of everyone who had come to my aid—Baihe, Yike, Zichen, and the rest of the group. Their expressions ranged from anger to worry, but beneath it all, there was something more—something deeper. They cared.
"We can't stay here," I said, my voice hoarse but steady. "It's not safe. We need shelter—a place to regroup and figure out our next move."
"Do you have any idea where we could go?" Yike asked, his tone less biting than before. He sounded genuinely curious, even invested.
Baihe stepped forward, her hand resting lightly on my arm. "Taryn's right. We need somewhere secure. But it has to be close enough to reach without exhausting everyone."
"Could use the hospital," Yike suggested. "They've got supplies, places to hide. But…" He trailed off, his gaze darkening. "The killing machines might have taken it over. There's no way they'll leave it undefended."
"A prison, then?" Baihe added, though her uncertainty was obvious. "It's fortified, and the gates could hold them back."
I shook my head, my mind racing. "Both options mean more fighting, and we're running on fumes already. Even if we made it, what happens if we can't defend it?"
Zichen suddenly stopped, his expression darkening. "We're being watched," he said, his voice low.
My body tensed, every muscle screaming in protest as I shifted into a defensive stance. "Who?" I asked, scanning the area.
"Don't know," he replied, his eyes narrowing. "But stay close. Let's keep moving."
The group quickened its pace, the fleeting sense of safety evaporating as the reality of our situation set in.
We weren't out of danger yet.
Meanwhile, Zichen's sister stepped closer to me, her expression unreadable. "Taryn," she said softly, her voice carrying an odd familiarity. "You don't remember me, do you?"
I blinked, startled by her question. "Should I?"
She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the ground for a moment before meeting mine again. "No," she said finally. "But I remember you."
Then, my attention changed to Baihe.
"We need to stop soon," Baihe said softly, her voice barely carrying over the ambient noise. "People are starting to stumble."
I glanced back, taking in the haggard faces of the group. She was right. We couldn't keep going like this.
"I'll find something," I said, trying to inject more confidence into my voice than I felt.
A crumbled structure emerged in the distance—a warehouse, its skeletal frame looming like a beacon of possibility.
The roof was caved in, and the windows were shattered, but the walls seemed intact enough to provide shelter for a few hours.
"We'll check it out," I said, pointing toward the building. "Baihe, stay with the group. Zichen, Yike, you're with me."