Break Day At The Slayer Compound

The world hadn't ended last night. That was as good a reason as any to celebrate.

Even with the aftershock of Flare's near-death still vibrating through the compound like a nerve twitch, the air smelled of grilled

meat, synthetic ozone, and freshly-cut grass. Not the kind of grass from before the Ashen era—the lab-grown, pain-in-the-ass-to maintain kind that only grew in hard-fought safe zones, soaked in blood and rebirth. This was the kind the kids ran barefoot through, the kind Anira once tackled Caim into during sparring practice while giggling like she hadn't been born into a hellscape.

Flare stood on the perimeter of the courtyard, still bandaged, arms crossed over his chest as smoke curled up from the long iron grill where Marcos was carving thick slabs of meat like a goddamn warlord. Marcos grinned over the smoke like a man who had never seen death before.

"I swear to the bones of my ancestors," Marcos barked, holding up a skewer like a proclamation, "if anyone even thinks about ration paste today, I'll throw you into the compound incineration chamber myself."

"Someone tell Marek he can't eat seven of those." Claire's voice cut in from the side, boots up on the bench, ponytail swaying

behind her like a metronome of mischief. "His metabolism is good, but I'd rather not spend the night listening to his stomach argue with itself again."

"I regret nothing!" Marek yelled from the hammock, chewing on a kebab with a dreamy look in his eyes.

Flare almost smiled.

Almost.

His ribs ached like someone had lit a bonfire under his sternum. But being surrounded by family—real family, not the one he'd lost

at Ground Zero, not the world that died with his mother—was enough to make the pain feel honest. Alive.

Caim passed by, tossing a basketball to Anira. She caught it effortlessly and dribbled it once before hurling it full-speed at her father.

Flare's eyes snapped open and he caught it with one hand.

"I'm still healing," he warned.

"So dodge better," Anira grinned, jogging off before he could retaliate.

Across the yard, Kai sat alone at one of the

benches, quietly sketching something in a small, charcoal-worn notebook. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes kept glancing toward the others—toward Flare and Marcos especially. Flare had caught the look more than once. It wasn't hero-worship exactly. But it had that weight. Like a soldier seeing legends come to life and not quite knowing what to do with that reality.

Eventually, Kai closed his notebook and stood, walking toward the main group.

"Captain. Lieutenant." He gave a respectful nod to Marcos, then Flare.

"Just Flare," Flare said, still unused to the way Kai defaulted to titles.

Kai hesitated. "Then… Flare."

There was something rehearsed in his tone, like he was still navigating how to be part of this team without feeling like an intruder.

"Enjoying the quiet?" Flare asked.

Kai's gaze drifted toward the grill. "It's unfamiliar. The quiet, I mean."

"Get used to it," Marcos said with a grin. "It

doesn't last, but it's ours."

That was when Claire chimed in, standing now, flipping her hair off her neck. "Actually, there is something I've been wondering." She turned toward Kai and tilted her head. "That blade of yours. That ice trick. Haven't seen that before."

Kai blinked. "Ah. The ice elemental charge?"

"Yeah. It's new, isn't it?" Flare asked, eyes

narrowing slightly with curiosity. "Didn't even know water and freezing was on the table for the elemental program."

Kai nodded slowly. "It was… recently developed. Only a few test subjects showed compatibility. I scored high affinity during my time in the American facility."

"Don't worry," Flare chuckled, "I've got a couple aces up my sleeve too that even Marcos hasn't seen yet.".

That got everyone's attention

"You could've told us, both of you," Claire smirked. "Show-offs."

"I didn't want to seem like I was bragging," Kai admitted. "The nodachi isn't standard issue either. It's a bit ceremonial, from my lineage. The elemental charge lets me condense ambient water into the blade and flash-freeze it. The shards are brittle but sharp and their lethality comes from their speed. Not as heavy-hitting as fire or corrosive types, but versatile."

Marcos whistled low. "That trick you pulled on the lizard was no joke, and you and I are gonna have to talk about those alleged aces of yours Flare."

Kai bowed slightly. "Thank you."

"You'll have to spar with Claire later," Caim said, nudging his twin.

Claire cracked her knuckles. "I'd like to see if you can freeze my heel mid-kick."

Kai blanched slightly. "I'd prefer to remain intact, thank you, and I wish for challenge, not death."

Laughter rippled through the team. The first real, unforced laugh since the mission.

The smell of grilled meat thickened. The sun tilted past the apex of the sky, catching the armor plates of the compound's defense

turrets, now idle and sun-dappled. For now, the world didn't need saving. The Ashen would return, and the directives would change. But this day—this moment—they were just people again.

Flare leaned back, exhaling slowly.

"Tomorrow," he muttered.

Marcos glanced over. "What's that?"

"Tomorrow, we pick up the burden again."

Marcos grinned, shoving a skewer into his hand. "Then today, we eat like kings."

———————————

Later that evening, after the last kebab had been stolen by Marek and Claire had kicked over the cooler in protest, most of the team began to drift off to their quarters. The compound quieted into the soft hum of night systems—turrets retracted, floodlights dimmed to amber glow, perimeter drones switching to low-power patrol. It was the kind of silence that didn't scream danger. Just the usual insomnia of Slayers.

Flare wasn't in bed.

He was on the rooftop.

Bandages under his shirt, arms resting on the low edge of the concrete railing. Below, he could see the faint glow of the city beyond the walls. Far enough to be safe, close enough to remember what they were fighting for. A ghost of music played from somewhere inside the compound—Marek's playlist, most likely. Something old, analog, full of static and soul.

He didn't hear the footsteps until they were a few feet behind him.

"I figured you'd be up here," said a voice.

Kai.

Flare didn't turn around. "You're still on

probation, remember. Breaking curfew?"

Kai stepped beside him, not quite close enough to crowd him. "I couldn't sleep. Thought the stars might help."

Flare gave a dry chuckle. "If they haven't helped me in thirty-four years, I doubt they'll fix you tonight."

There was a long pause. Kai didn't push

conversation. He simply stood with him, head tilted upward, watching the stars.

And there were stars.

Bright ones.

A brilliant smear of them tonight, more than usual. Most of Earth had been polluted to the point where the night sky was a grey haze, but the Slayers' compound had some of the cleanest air on the continent—one of the few perks of being sandwiched between fire zones and quarantine borders.

Kai exhaled slowly. "They're overwhelming.

Beautiful, but… terrifying."

"That's how you know they're real," Flare murmured. "Pretty lies are never that honest."

Kai didn't answer immediately. Instead, he pulled something from his pocket—a folded piece of paper, ragged around the edges.

He handed it to Flare.

"What's this?" Flare asked, unfolding it.

A sketch. Charcoal on raw parchment. The rooftop, from this exact angle. Two silhouettes standing shoulder to shoulder under the stars. One taller, bulkier—clearly Flare. The other, narrow-shouldered, head

slightly bowed.

It wasn't perfect.

But it was honest.

"I drew it when I got here," Kai said. "I guess… I hoped I'd be welcome enough to be part of something like that."

Flare stared at the drawing. Then at Kai.

"I didn't know you were an artist, tch or clairvoyant." Flare laughed through closed teeth.

Kai shrugged. "I wouldn't call myself one. But it helps. Seeing things… differently."

A flicker passed through Flare's mind—images of Kai during the fight, luckily the security drones record everything for them. Calm, but uncertain. Brave, but not reckless. And that weapon—ice condensing in the rain, shards lashing outward like frozen poetry. Not showy. Not ego-driven. Just

necessary.

"You did good on the mission," Flare said after a moment.

Kai blinked. "I disobeyed a direct order."

"Still did good, you watched our flank like I told you to, probably saved one or more of their lives, that Ashen wasn't a joke. With the element of surprise like it would've had, even I might've been eviscerated by it."

Another pause. Then, Kai spoke carefully.

"Flare… do you think the Ashen are changing?"

Flare turned to look at him now, finally facing him fully.

"I think they're getting worse. More violent. Less mindless. Not because they're learning. Because something's driving them harder. Like they're desperate, Marcos and I have been having this talk as well, it's good that it's on your radar."

Kai nodded, jaw tight. "I felt it too."

Flare's eyes narrowed.

"You've fought before. Not just in training. I've seen the way you move. You've seen things."

Kai hesitated.

Then nodded.

"I was on cleanup detail during a failed containment in Arizona. Off the books. I was the only one left afterward. That's when they

noticed my elemental compatibility. I don't talk about it. Not because I'm hiding it, just… I don't like remembering."

The admission came like chipped stone off a

cliff—slow and jagged.

Flare didn't press.

Instead, he nodded once.

The silence between them shifted. From stranger to soldier. From soldier to something adjacent to kin.

Kai broke the silence again, his voice softer now.

"Is it true what they say? That you were born the same day the Ashen first appeared?"

Flare didn't answer immediately.

Then: "Yes, but so were a lot of other people, just got lucky and happened to have a mother who was the first to die after the flash, et voila, Ground Zero."

Kai exhaled like he'd been holding the question in for weeks. "Do you think they were… drawn to you?"

Flare didn't look away from the stars.

"I think… everything is drawn to something. Gravity. Light. Fear. Maybe I'm just another black hole, and no one knows it yet."

Kai looked at him, brows furrowed, like trying to decipher a puzzle without the corners or edges filled in.

"I don't think so," he said. "Black holes devour everything. You… you keep people alive."

Flare blinked once. It was the kindest thing anyone had said to him in a long time.

"Go get some sleep," he murmured. "We've got training rotation tomorrow. Marcos is going to kill us both if we're late."

Kai turned to go but paused halfway.

"Thank you, Flare. For letting me stay."

Flare didn't answer.

He didn't need to.

The stars blinked overhead like distant watchers. And far below, the compound slumbered beneath their gaze—quiet, armored, breathing.