Chapter 32 Leena
LEENA
Iwake to heat.
Not the crushing, relentless heat of the desert sun. Something closer. Steadier. Alive.
For a second, I don’t move. Don’t open my eyes. I just stay there, caught in that half-space between sleep and waking where nothing hurts yet and nothing is demanding anything from me.
Then I feel it. Him.
Solid at my back. One arm draped over me, not trapping, not holding me in place—just there. Present. Like he fell asleep that way and never thought to move.
My breath catches.
Slowly, carefully, I shift enough to turn my head. He’s still asleep. Or something close to it.
His breathing is even, deeper than I’ve heard it before. The hard lines that never quite leave his face have softened, just slightly, like whatever fight is always running through him has gone quiet for a few precious hours.
It does something to me. Something I’m not ready to name. I study him for a second longer than I should. Then his eyes open.
No startle. No snap to attention. Just… awareness. Immediate and locked onto me.
“You’re awake,” I murmur.
“Yes.”
The word is rough with sleep. My chest tightens.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t pull back. His hand shifts where it rests against me, like he’s confirming I’m still there. Like he expects I might not be.
“I’m still here,” I say quietly.
Something in his gaze settles.
“I know,” he answers.
Behind us, the camp is stirring. Movement. Low voices. The sound of gear being shifted, weapons checked, bodies coming back online.
Reality. It always comes back.
I exhale slowly and push myself up, the cool of the early air fading as the suns climb higher. He rises with me, slower than he would have before, but steady.
By the time the suns clear the horizon, we’re moving. Traveling until the desert breaks. Not gradually. One moment it stretches endless and empty in every direction—the next—it doesn’t.
I slow without meaning to. Kael does too. Ahead of us, the ridge drops away into something that shouldn’t exist out here.
Stone. Structure. Height. Not whole or untouched, but still standing. My breath catches.
“Oh… my God.”
The words leave me before I can stop them.
It rises out of the desert like something that refused to die.
Massive structures, broken and reinforced, patched with metal and whatever else they could find. Towers that lean but don’t fall. Built to survive.
Movement lines the rooftops. Figures watching. Armed. Ready. They’ve been expecting us. My stomach tightens. Are they expecting what followed us too?
Kael goes still beside me. His gaze tracks everything. Not just what’s there, but how it fits together.
“Defensible,” he says, voice low.
I glance at him.
“That’s what you see?”
His gaze flicks to me briefly.
“It is what matters.”
Of course it is, but there’s something else there now. Something quieter. Something dangerous in a different way. Possibility.
Behind us, the others slow. The formation tightens, pulling together as we approach open ground. Drazan moves to the front without hesitation.
“They’ll have seen us,” one of the others says.
“They already have,” Drazan answers.
We start down the slope. The closer we get, the more it shows. The damage isn’t new. Layered. Repaired. Broken again. Reinforced. They’ve been holding this place together piece by piece.
At the base, the ground is packed hard, worn smooth by movement. Tracks overlap—boots, claws, something heavier. Traffic. Life. Not just survival.
We don’t stop. There’s no gate or barrier, but also no doubt that we’re seen.
I feel it the second we step off sand onto something harder. The shift is immediate, not loud, just attention tightening around us. Eyes from above. From broken openings. From places I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t learned to look. Watchers.
Drazan doesn’t slow which tells me everything. We’re expected. Still… no one relaxes. Not them. Not us.
Kael’s arm brushes mine as we step fully into the city. Contact, intentional, and my pulse jumps in response.
The ground shifts, uneven, broken, but patterned. Paths cut through debris, connecting spaces that shouldn’t connect anymore. Even like this, there’s a structure to it. Not something I understand, but something I feel.
People move around us. Not many, but enough.
It hits all at once. They survived. Humans. Zmaj. They’re not hostile, but also not welcoming. Just… deciding what we are.
“Drazan.”
The voice comes from ahead.
A human male steps out from between two partially collapsed buildings. Scarred. Worn. Alive in the way only long survival creates. His gaze flicks over the group. Then lands on me. Then Kael. And lingers.
Drazan stops.
“Still standing,” the man says.
“Barely,” Drazan answers. “Have the others arrived yet?”
“Only the first caravan.”
Drazan nods sharply.
“We need rest. Then we see the Council,” Drazan says.
“Only Rosalind and Amara are here,” the man answers.
“They’ll do,” I say.
I don’t like being talked around. Not after everything it took to get here. The man’s gaze shifts to me again. Longer this time. Assessing.
“You’re confident,” he says.
“I don’t have time not to be.”
A beat. Then he exhales through his nose.
“Yeah,” he says. “I’m sure you don’t.”
Kael’s hand slips into mine. A brief squeeze. Steadying. It helps. Not enough to erase the edge, but enough to keep it from cutting deeper.
“Lead,” Drazan says.
The man hesitates just a moment longer, then turns and we follow.
The rest of the escort peels away, breaking off without ceremony, but Drazan stays with us as we’re led deeper. The structures close in, rising higher, thicker. Broken, but reinforced. Open gaps sealed. Pathways narrowed. It presses in.
I’ve heard about this place, but hearing isn’t the same as standing in it. I was supposed to arrive later. After everything was moved. After all the planning and the work I was meant to finish.
The thought tightens something in my chest. If Kael hadn’t taken me I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have him.
The buildings rise higher still. Massive. Damaged. Held together by will and necessity. This place survives because it refuses not to, but it wouldn’t survive what’s hunting him.
I’ve seen what that thing can do. This wouldn’t stop it. The realization settles cold. We didn’t leave the danger behind. We brought it here.
The man ahead of us grabs a slab of stone and strains to move it. Drazan steps in without a word, helping shift it aside. A narrow opening reveals itself and we slip inside.
The air changes instantly. Quieter and still. It should feel safer, but it doesn’t.
The space inside isn’t large. Nothing like what I expected, but it’s functional. Stone. Metal. Reinforced seams where cracks were forced closed instead of repaired. A long surface set in the center, not polished, not decorative, used.
Rosalind is there with Amara beside her. They both turn as we step in, their attention landing on me first with sharp relief clear on their faces, then they look at Kael. It’s not hostile, but not welcoming either.
“You made it,” Rosalind says.
Her voice is steady, but there’s something underneath it. Something tight. Controlled.
“I did,” I answer.
I don’t move farther into the room yet. Kael stays at my side. Drazan steps forward.
“We weren’t alone out there,” he says.
That’s how he opens it, no easing into it, and no softening. The room stills. Amara’s gaze sharpens.
“Explain.”
Drazan doesn’t look at me. He looks at Kael. And for a second there’s something there. Permission. Or maybe acknowledgment. Kael steps forward. He doesn’t look at them right away. His gaze moves once over the room.
“They are not of this world,” he says.
No hesitation. No uncertainty. Rosalind doesn’t react immediately and neither does Amara, but I see it. That moment where something shifts.
“Define not of this world,” Amara says.
Calm and controlled. Kael’s jaw tightens.
“They took me,” he says.
That does it. The room changes, not loudly, but the air tightens. Focus sharpens.
“Who?” Rosalind asks.
“I do not know.”
“They have been watching,” he continues. “For a long time.” A pause. “They understand this world.” Another pause. “They do not belong to it.”
Silence settles. Heavy. Calculating. Amara leans forward.
“What do they want?”
Kael doesn’t answer immediately. That’s the problem. Because it means he doesn’t know.
“I was not their target,” he says finally.
My stomach drops. Rosalind’s gaze sharpens.
“Then what was?”
A beat. And I already know what they’re going to say. I see it in the way their expressions shift. The way their attention flicks—not to Kael—but outward. Beyond him. Beyond us.
That’s when I realize that neither one of them is surprised. Not a hint of shock. He just announced aliens have been watching the planet for a long damn time and they not only take it in stride, they accept it like they already knew it.
“Epis,” Amara says quietly.
The word settles into the room like something already known. Drazan exhales slowly.
“That’s where my thought went,” Drazan says.
Kael’s head turns slightly.
“No.” All of them look at him. He doesn’t raise his voice, but there’s something in the way he stands now. Certainty. “I do not know their purpose,” he continues. “But it is not simple acquisition.”
Rosalind’s expression hardens.
“Then what is it?”
Kael’s gaze lifts and he meets hers.
“They were studying.”
The room goes still, not in fear, but more an understanding without answers.
“They did not act immediately,” Kael continues. “They observed. Tested. Adapted.” He pauses. Muscles twitch, scars pull. Pain playing over his body. “They chose their moment.”
My chest tightens because that means—
“They’re still watching,” I say.
No one looks at me. Amara leans back slowly.
“Then we have a problem.”
Rosalind shakes her head once.
“No,” she says quietly. Her gaze moves to Kael. “We have a war coming.”
The words don’t echo, they settle, heavy and unavoidable. And suddenly this place doesn’t feel like it might hold. It feels like something about to be tested.