The Dawn of Knight

Chapter Twenty Seven

The harsh winter air pierced Amélie's skin, causing her to pull her coat tighter around her. She moved with precision and grace, each step calculated and precise like the routines she used to perform on the gymnastics floor. But instead of a cheering crowd, all she could hear were the distant sounds of crumbling buildings and the occasional screech of a car alarm. The once bustling city of Paris now lay in ruins, a desolate wasteland that she navigated with determined steps. She refused to let this apocalyptic world defeat her as she searched for any signs of hope or normalcy amidst the chaos

The sharp gusts of icy wind cut through her parka and she hunched over, trying to shield herself from the bitter cold. She gazed up at the sky, its once brilliant blue now a sickly gray, mirroring the state of the city below. Crumbling ruins of once-grand buildings littered the streets, their walls bearing scars and craters from the constant bombardment by the Krell. Every shadow seemed to hold a lurking danger, and she couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched. Memories of happier times flooded her mind as she walked through the desolate streets of what used to be Paris, now reduced to a hollow shell of its past life.

"Beaufort, can you hear me?" she spoke softly, her voice cutting through the thick silence.

A few moments passed before Beaufort's gravelly voice responded. "I'm here. Are you nearby?"

Amélie looked up at the battered street signs, their metal poles bent and rusted. The road was littered with wreckage: overturned cars, debris, and chunks of concrete from collapsed buildings. She squinted, trying to find a familiar landmark, but everything had been destroyed, unrecognizable in its desolation.

"I'm almost to the old opera house," she answered, her exhalations visible in the chilly darkness. In another time, she had strolled down this street without a care in beautiful attire, unaware of the destruction to come. Now, it was just another decaying building. "But I don't see any signs of life. Are you certain this is the correct place?"

The sound of Beaufort's sigh crackled through the radio waves. "According to our intel, their patrols are expected to sweep through there tonight. Stay alert."

She nodded, even though he couldn't see her. "Got it."

Amélie's heart pounded against her chest as she crept forward, her senses heightened and on high alert. The oppressive silence was suffocating, every shadow a potential threat and every corner a hiding spot for the elusive Krell. The city held its breath in anticipation, each building a looming specter waiting to pounce on its unsuspecting prey. The wind whispered ominous warnings, carrying distant sounds that sent shivers down Amélie's spine - the echo of footsteps in the distance, the creaking of metal under strain. But still, nothing came. And with each passing moment, the tension only grew thicker and more unbearable.

Navigating through the ruins and rubble, her mind couldn't help but wander. Memories flooded her thoughts as she moved forward on this treacherous mission. The present offered nothing but peril and uncertainty, making it difficult to focus on anything else. She tapped her radio, desperate for any distraction from the overwhelming silence and her own troubled thoughts.

"Funny," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, "I never thought we'd end up like this."

There was a pause before Beaufort responded, his voice now gentler. "You mean collaborating?"

A faint smile crept across Amélie's face as her hand grazed the hilt of the knife resting at her waist. "Among other things," she thought to herself.

"I never imagined it would turn out like this, Amélie."

There it was—that tone. That same low, quiet way he spoke when the weight of the world seemed too much to bear. She remembered it well from their past encounters, back when he was chasing her through the streets, always just a step behind. Back when the line between hunter and hunted was clear.