Glass memory

We walk for hours without speaking.

The path is narrow now, a rib cage of bent pipes and rusted rail, our steps echoing through the hollow underground like we're inside something ancient and waiting to wake. The EM storm's pulse has finally faded, but my head still rings with choices I can't take back.

Behind me, Maika's footsteps grow louder. She's walking faster than the rest—just enough to catch up, not enough to pass.

I know that pace. It means she wants to talk.

Or fight.

She moves beside me, hugging her arms. "We're going to run out of clean water if we don't find another access point soon."

I nod. "Aerith said the relay tunnels sometimes link to filtration systems. We'll check the next node."

She exhales hard. "And if he's wrong?"

I look at her. "Then we'll figure it out. Like we always do."

Her jaw tightens. "No, Kaia. You'll figure it out. The rest of us just follow."

I stop walking.

She stops too, folding her arms tighter across her chest.

"You want to say something," I say. "Say it."

She shrugs. "Nothing new. Just that maybe next time you drag us into a collapsing tunnel system, we should vote first."

"Vote?" I blink. "We didn't even have time to argue. You saw the storm."

"I saw you," she snaps. "Saw how fast you backed his plan. No hesitation. No checking with us. You made the call and expected us to smile and pack our bags."

"I did what I thought was right."

"You always do," she says, low. "Even when you're not."

That stings. Worse because it's her.

I cross my arms too. "If you have something better than surviving, I'm all ears."

She flinches—barely—but enough. "Surviving? That's all this is to you now? Following a ghost story underground?"

I step closer. "You think I don't question it? Every second? You think I don't lie awake wondering if I'm failing all of you?"

Maika's eyes flash. "Then why won't you say it?"

"I can't," I whisper. "Because if I say it out loud, I'll break. And I'm scared if I break, none of you will hold."

Silence.

She looks down at her boots.

"I used to think you were the strongest person I knew," she says. "Now I think you're just the best at pretending."

Something in my chest caves.

"Maika—"

"Do you even remember the last time you listened to someone who disagreed with you?"

The tunnel feels smaller. Hotter. Like the air's turned on us.

"I remember," I say. "But I'm starting to wish I hadn't."

That shuts her up.

I turn away and start walking. The others keep a distance, either because they heard or because they felt it. The silence between us spreads like a bruise.

Later, as we rest, Maika sits alone at the edge of the group. Ajay tries to hand her a ration bar. She doesn't take it. He doesn't insist. Just sets it down beside her and walks off.

She doesn't thank him.

When Sira walks over, she kneels beside me without a word. Her hand brushes mine, and that's how I know she heard.

"She's not wrong," she says, voice low.

I blink. "Seriously?"

"She's wrong about you," Sira adds. "But she's not wrong to want a say. To want her voice to matter."

"I've never tried to silence her."

"No," Sira says, "but sometimes you forget we're still here. You carry everything so tightly, Kaia, we can't tell if you're leading or just dragging us behind you."

I pull my hand away.

"So you're picking her side?"

Sira doesn't answer at first. Then: "I'm picking ours. And right now, that means asking for more than just survival."

I don't know what to say to that.

Later that night, Maika finds me again.

I'm sitting against a wall, torchlight flickering. She sits beside me but doesn't look my way.

"You know," she says, "when I was nine, my parents had this huge fight over something stupid. Whether or not to leave the second colony site. I told them I didn't care what they chose, I just wanted them to stop yelling."

She laughs once, dry. "They stopped talking instead. Split up a week later. Still haven't spoken since."

I say nothing.

"I used to think if I never picked a side, I'd never lose anything."

She looks at me now. Really looks.

"But then I followed you. And I chose. And I'm scared that means I'll lose everything again."

I want to say something that fixes it. That undoes the sharpness of her voice from earlier. But I don't know what.

So I say the truth.

"I don't know how to keep everyone safe. I just know I'd rather fall trying than let us rot the way the world did."

Maika nods slowly.

And for a second, I think we've made it through.

Then Aerith walks past, close enough that the edge of his coat brushes Maika's arm.

Her eyes follow him. Her body tilts.

Something in her softens. Then sharpens again.

And I realize — it's not just about me.

It's not just about leadership or choices.

It's about him too.

Maika stands and walks away.

Sira watches her go.

Then watches me.

And I can't tell anymore who I'm losing, or who I've already lost.

To be continued...