Scars and Silence

They buried six before the sun rose.

Aria stood by the shallow graves, jaw clenched, fingers numb from digging. The silence around her was heavy—not just from grief, but from guilt.

She didn't cry. Not yet.

"She was like a sister," she said quietly, more to herself than anyone else.

Xander stood a few feet away, arms crossed, the gash on his cheek still fresh. "Sometimes betrayal doesn't come from hate. It comes from desperation."

Aria didn't reply. She couldn't.

Later, in the medic's tent, she sat staring at the tablet in her hand. Her latest blood test results were flashing on-screen. The markers were clear.

The mutation was accelerating.

She was changing. Becoming something else.

"I saw the scans," Xander said behind her.

Aria didn't look up. "How long have you known?"

"Since your fever in Kalen's lab."

She turned to him, searching his face. "Are you afraid of me?"

"No," he said softly. "I'm afraid for you."

Their eyes locked. It wasn't romantic—it was raw. Real.

"If I become something unrecognizable…"

"You'll still be you," he said. "Even if the whole world forgets, I won't."

For the first time in days, her breath hitched.

And maybe—just maybe—hope stirred again.