Veil of the forsaken.

"Crimson and Ashes over Aldine."

After the start of the war, AUTUMN-OCT-3RD.

Mai-Lee leaned against the cold metal railing outside the hideout, her fingers steady as she brought the cigarette to her lips. She inhaled slowly, letting the smoke curl inside her lungs before exhaling into the crisp autumn air. Aldine stretched before her, a city of light and illusion—a dreamscape built upon wealth and power, shimmering with an elegance that hid its cracks well.

The waterways gleamed under neon reflections, their surfaces kissed by golden lights from above. Holograms of waterfalls cascaded down the facades of glass towers, flickering ever so slightly as the technology adjusted for the wind. Large screens flickered between advertisements—luxury watches, elegant fashion lines, cars that hovered just inches above the sleek black roads.

Above it all, the sky was filled with floating projections of sea life, holographic fish gliding soundlessly between the real aircraft that darted in and out of Aldine's towering skyline. The city was alive, breathing in synthetic beauty, but Mai-Lee? She just stood there, wrapped in the solitude of her own mind.

She felt the weight of a presence beside her before she heard the click of a lighter. The flame briefly illuminated Matthew's face as he lit his cigarette, his expression unreadable beneath the glow. He didn't speak at first, just took a long drag, exhaling slowly as they stood side by side in the quiet.

For a while, neither of them said anything.

It wasn't uncomfortable. Just silence. The kind that existed between people who had seen too much of life to fill the space with unnecessary words.

Eventually, Matthew broke it. "It's been a long war," he said, his voice rough but steady.

Mai-Lee hummed, watching the city below. "Too long," she murmured. "Feels like we're living in its aftertaste, even when the fight slows down."

Matthew nodded, tapping ash from his cigarette. "It doesn't end, though. Not really. We just shift the battlefield."

A pause. Then Mai-Lee sighed, a rare hint of something wistful in her tone. "The city doesn't feel it, does it? Look at them." She gestured with her chin toward the lights, the people moving like clockwork figures below. "Living in a glass dream. Safe. Oblivious."

Matthew chuckled, though it was dry. "Oblivious until the glass shatters."

Mai-Lee exhaled another slow drag, watching the smoke drift into the autumn air. The cold breeze ruffled the ends of her hair, and for once, she felt... content. Not happy, not at peace, but content in the way a person is when left alone with their own thoughts in a world that doesn't ask for anything more.

Matthew shifted beside her, tilting his head back slightly as he watched the city. Then, after another stretch of silence, he said, "I used to think Samantha would outlive us all."

The name made Mai-Lee's fingers tighten ever so slightly around her cigarette. It wasn't noticeable, not unless someone was looking closely. She took another inhale, slower this time.

"She would have," Mai-Lee said at last, her voice even. "If the world was different."

Matthew let out a breath that wasn't quite a laugh. "Yeah. If the world was different."

Mai-Lee glanced at him then, studying his face in the dim light. Matthew had lost many people—too many. He carried it well, as he did everything, but there were cracks in his armor, ones only visible in moments like this.

"You loved her," Mai-Lee said, not as a question, but as a fact.

Matthew nodded, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "More than I knew how to say." He flicked the ash from his cigarette again, his voice quieter now. "And you?"