"What can you see?" Ishita's voice rang up through the hole, cupped hands barely amplifying above the creaking wood and groaning wardrobe.

Tanya crouched upstairs beside the broken joist, elbows braced on her knees, the jagged lip of the floor yawning before her like a cliff edge. She couldn't see Fahad directly now he'd wriggled back—only the top of his fluffy black hair bobbing behind the chipped edge of the wardrobe.

"Loads!" he called down cheerfully. "There's a first aid box, some cans, and—oh! An unopened bar of chocolate!"

"Careful!" Tanya shouted, leaning forward just a touch. Her boots shifted against the dusty floorboards, the grain splintered and soft with water damage. "Don't get greedy!"

"I be greedy too if I see chocolate," Olena quipped behind her, gun arm humming lightly, the barrel twitching with tension. "I tell you, this one, he has good amount of joy. World not ended, just magic."

Tanya ignored her. "Fahad. Just chuck what you can reach."

There was a clatter as something fell—a tin of beans, it sounded like. It bounced and rolled, echoing off the tile below. Then another. Then the chocolate bar fluttered down in its plastic like a prize in a rigged arcade machine.

Tanya grinned despite herself. "Nice shot!"

"Wait a second," Mrs Eceer called. She murmured some things to Ishita and they grabbed a table cloth together, expanding it beneath the wardrobe.

"Okay, go again," Ishita called.

Another tin fell down, then another. With each falling item, Ishita and Mrs Eceer moved this way and that to catch it. They'd lower their arms from above their head down as it hit to displace some of the tension.

Assistant focused on the lighter things, or anything breakable—leaving the tins to Fahad.

Fahad wobbled onto his feet, crouching as he crab-walked around inside the wardrobe, reaching higher with each thing to throw. "This is a big metal thing. Do we want it?" Fahad yelled.

"That must be a propane tank," Mrs Eceer yelled. "Only take it if it's secure."

Fahad was already pulling it. It scraped along the wood and then a low, bone-deep groan rippled through the wooden slats beneath the wardrobe.

Tanya's grin vanished.

She scrambled forward on instinct, her palm hitting splinters. "Stop! Stop now!"

"I can't!" Fahad called, voice higher now, the panic creeping in like water. "It's sliding!"

The propane tank was small—camping size—but still metal and screeching as it fell further and further, even after Fahad pulled away. The wardrobe had already started to lean, one foot kicking out over the ruined air. More supplies fell, tumbling like loot from a busted chest. A metal pot struck the floor below, ringing like a gong.

"Hands over your head babu!" Ishita yelled. Assistant swooped in, being a third hand to cradle him.

"Mrs Eceer!" Tanya barked. "Platform, now!"

Downstairs, Mrs Eceer was already tracing with practised grace. Her fingers flicked in the air, and a shimmer blinked into being just under the wardrobe. A spectral platform—transparent and glowing, like light caught in syrup—solidified beneath the hole.

The wardrobe groaned again. One drawer slid open by itself, releasing a scattering of bandages and toiletries, which drifted lazily through the air.

"I don't know how long that will hold," Tanya yelled.

Mrs Eceer called up, tight with strain. "Be quick!"

The floor moaned again, louder this time. The wardrobe was tipping forward, wood tearing from wall studs like cloth from a snapped seam.

Olena had already stepped beside her, expression sharpening. She didn't speak—just reached to the side of her cannon and flicked open a rusted latch with her thumb. The panel flipped out like a drawer, revealing a series of slotted ports, each one marked with symbols and scratched numbers.

Tanya's hands flew to her head. "What are you doin'!?"

"Useful module," Olena said and slotted in a small glowing sphere no bigger than a plum. She clicked it in place with a satisfying chik, the chamber of her gun adjusting with a hiss.

She aimed carefully—not at the wardrobe, but just below it.

The orb fired with a soft phoomp. The glowing orb cascaded across the air until it slowed to a stop. It wasn't slow exactly, but it looked odd compared to a bomb or bullet. Then it bloomed. A pulse burst in a wide dome beneath the falling furniture. The air behind it waved and blurred, with no other sign of the orb than that strange effect like looking through glass. Everything it touched stuttered, slowed, as if caught in syrup. The wardrobe's fall went from frantic to graceful, each snap of wood suddenly stretched and elongated, like a series of still frames.

Dust hung midair like snowfall. Debris floated instead of fell.

Time stilled.

"What the—" Tanya started, stepping back from the edge.

"Slow thingy," Olena said, satisfied. "Does not last long. One chance."

But someone was already moving. Ishita.

From below, she launched herself into the centre of the shimmer without hesitation. Tanya gasped—whatever that thing was doing to the world, it wasn't meant for people. As Ishita passed through it, her face wrenched, like the air itself was trying to stretch her apart.

She stumbled mid-step, vertigo knocking her sideways. Her hand went to her temple. But she didn't stop.

The shimmer thickened around her, refracting light, like she was running through honeyed glass. Her foot hit the edge of the barrier—Mrs Eceer's spell still held—and she half-fell onto it, crawling the last distance to beneath Fahad.

"Come on, come on," Tanya muttered, covering her mouth with her hand.

Ishita jumped and gripped the bottom of the wardrobe, yanking the wooden base free once, then twice.

It screeched as it came off and Fahad fell with it, ripping him from the swaying wardrobe just as the last brace snapped with a violent, silent jerk inside the slow area.

The shimmer burst. Sound returned all at once. The wardrobe thundered down, the spectral platform shattering beneath it like glass.

The floorboards cracked. A chunk of shelving rocketed off to the side, aimed straight for the hole.

Mrs Eceer didn't hesitate. She summoned again, sharp and sudden, her fingers slashing the air like a general. A curved barrier arced up and intercepted the falling debris, vaporising it into a harmless flicker of light.

Ishita caught Fahad in a half-lunge as he swung down. The impact knocked them both backwards, landing in a heap of plaster dust and dropped tins.

Her arms were locked around him. His chest heaved.

Fahad said something breathlessly, voice muffled in her coat.

"He's okay!" Ishita called, their foreheads pressed together.

Fahad stayed there for a moment then leapt up. "That was awesome! It was like I was flying and then weeee and then I landed and it was raining the wood all around!"

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He shook his head like a dog and dust flew out.

Tanya stomped on the wood. It was steady. She sat down, legs over the edge, heart still hammering. "Next time," she said, eyes wild, "you tell me when the bloody wardrobe's doing gymnastics, yeah?"

"Sorry!" he replied.

Mrs Eceer held out a hand, helping Ishita to her feet.

"You okay Ishita?" Tanya called.

"Yes… I think so." Ishita replied, patting herself down. She exhaled. "I levelled up from that."

"We'll be right down!" Tanya yelled across the edge, before making her way back through the flat with Olena in tow. There were more things to grab up here, but for now, she wanted to check on Ishita.

Level-ups ay.

Tanya opened Ishita's Interface as she sped down the stairs. She realised she couldn't see the notifications yet whilst Ishita hadn't seen them.

Huh, that's a shame.

Her thought was a throwaway. She was about to dismiss it when it all appeared.

• • •

Alert!

Through your efforts, you have increased the following Attributes:

Dexterity +3

Vitality +3

Will +2

Strength +1

• • •

She dismissed it after that, not wanting to see anymore before she asked Ishita. It felt strange to be able to see things Ishita hadn't seen herself yet. Tanya could have sworn it wasn't there before.

It came from me thought.

The pact line returned to her again.

Anythin' 10056 wants.

Tanya shivered. She needed to work out more about Ishita's intention when she made this pact. Until then she'd be more careful.

They descended the stairs carefully, boots tapping the old stone steps, brushing past mould-dappled plaster and hanging vines. The air thickened as they reached the bakery again, cold even with shelter from the wind, and that same sweet but rotten smell of the bodies.

Ishita was sitting on one of the wooden benches by the counter, cradling a bottle of pink lemonade that Mrs Eceer must have given her. Tanya looked at it with longing. Ishita looked pale but alert, her cheeks flushed with exertion.

Ishita offered the bottle. "Want a sip?"

Tanya laughed. "Am I that obvious?"

There was a glint in Ishita's eye. "Absolutely."

Tanya took it and sipped. Her lips stung from the citrus. Sugar bloomed across her tongue, sharp and bright. It hit the back of her throat and for a second, everything else dropped away—the hunger, the rot, the silence. She held it in her mouth, eyes shut, willing it to last.

Man, that's good.

She struggled to get her head around drinks like this being something she used to have every day. With one more loving look, she passed it back.

"How you doin'?" Tanya asked, crouching down in front of her, elbows on her knees.

Ishita offered a tired grin. "Yeah. Still dizzy. But I don't think anything's broken."

"Glad to hear it," Tanya said. She reached forward and brushed a smear of grey from Ishita's temple with her thumb. "That was a serious move back there. You didn't even flinch."

"I flinched," Ishita laughed. "Just internally. Like, deep inside."

Olena perched on the counter nearby, legs swinging. "You move like someone possessed. You have combat spirit."

"I had panic spirit," Ishita replied. "Different thing."

Mrs Eceer chuckled softly, appearing from behind the ruined serving counter, her hair tied back in a silken scarf. "Panic spirit or not, it was effective. And thank you."

Ishita blinked. "For what?"

"For helping keep the rest of my home intact," Mrs Eceer said. "Even what you saved… matters."

Fahad popped his head in from the back kitchen and pouted. "It's boring here now."

"That's a relief," Tanya said. "Alright. Let's do another pass. Carefully this time."

They fanned out across the two floors. The bakery was a trove of half-spoiled goods and forgotten treasures: flour caked solid in its sacks, old tins of lychee and lotus seed paste, dusty packets of tea sealed in gold foil. The smell of pandan still lingered faintly in the kitchen walls when they were far enough from the monsters. Tanya found a whole crate of mung beans stacked neatly under a tarp in the corner, and next to it, a rusted metal safe with a broken lock that gave way under Olena's boot. Inside were stacks and stacks of money. It was strange looking at something so prized that had become so useless.

Upstairs, they were more focused—coats hung by the door dripping in black blood, packets of rice and jars of preserved vegetables stacked neatly in the kitchen cupboards. Olena found a stash of emergency candles and oil lanterns, still in their packaging. Ishita was on hands and knees digging through the under sofa storage when she shouted, "Oh! Socks! Fresh socks!"

Mrs Eceer winced as they looked around, struggling to hide her discomfort.

"You sure it's okay?" Tanya asked.

Mrs Eceer gave a sharp nod. "It's more efficient."

Tanya stopped, looking at the shelf across the bricked up hearth. She noticed a box made of pale wood with carved patterns along the edge—small diamonds and vines, smoothed down with age. It looked handmade, maybe even home-carved. She flashed Mrs Eceer a questioning look.

Mrs Eceer took it with care, then opened the lid—and her face softened.

Inside were small bundles of colourful wax paper, each one neatly folded. Tanya saw what looked like little metal stamps, seeds, and a scattering of dried petals that gave off the faintest scent even now.

She tilted one of the bundles open. Inside were perfectly round pieces of dried dough—flat discs with hand-pressed patterns on them, some crumbling at the edges.

"She used to make bulla cake," Mrs Eceer said, her voice caught between smile and ache. "It's like a Jamaican gingerbread. Dense, sweet, just enough spice to warm your throat."

Tanya looked down. "These are the stamps?"

"She carved them herself. Said it wasn't proper unless it had the sun on top." She ran a finger over one of the old designs. "We'd press the dough flat, then push these in. No oven—just wrapped in foil and left on the radiator all day."

Tanya didn't say anything. She didn't need to. She just watched the older woman turn one of the stamps over in her palm.

"Every Sunday after church—even after I transitioned, she still invited me back. The others didn't. But she did." She looked away for a moment, then set them back down. "She liked the sweets better than the people."

They stood side by side for a moment, the silence stretching just a little too long.

Mrs Eceer cleared her throat, fingers smoothing down the hem of her sleeve like it had creased.

"Oh, Tanya."

Tanya glanced over. "Hm?"

"I know you're… I mean, we're all… looking for things to build with," Mrs Eceer said, voice careful, words folding in on each other. She gestured vaguely to the shelves, the walls, the open drawers. "But do you mind if—"

She stopped, then tried again.

"I think I'd like to move back in someday. If it's possible."

Tanya blinked. "Oh. Yeah?" She rubbed the back of her neck and then gave a small shrug. "Yeah, 'course."

Mrs Eceer gave a quick nod, as if that settled it, then turned to sweep up a broken ceramic statue.

That was Tanya's cue to step away.

Tanya turned back to Olena, who was packing up the larger food items. There was a huge bag of rice, bigger than anything Tanya had ever seen before.

Every cupboard was perfectly sorted, with lines of glass jars with cursive labels. There were little hooks on the inside of each door too, with herbs hung to keep the cupboard smelling fresh.

"She's kinda scary tidy," Tanya whispered to Olena.

"She scary in general," Olena replied. "But yes. Tidy is worse."

Tanya glanced over her shoulder. Mrs Eceer was pushing the bodies into the bathroom with ruthless efficiency. Tanya smiled, shaking her head. "Nah, she's a sweetheart, really."

The timing was perfect. Right as Olena turned around, Mrs Eceer cleaved one of the monsters in half so it would fit through the doorway.

Tanya snorted and slid a drawer shut. She was about to call the others when she caught the glint of something in one of the remaining cupboards. It was mostly household things—a sewing kit and scissors and pencils and shopping bags. She reached in and her hand brushed against something smooth in the back of the cupboard. Curious, Tanya pulled it out— a long rectangular box tucked between the wall and a stack of spare tablecloths

It was a long rectangular box.

Inside were piles of neatly hand-written ledgers—inventory, supplier lists, journals. But underneath those, in the false bottom, was a single photograph. A black and white shot, grainy, of a young woman on a bicycle, windblown and grinning, scarf streaming behind her. The woman had the same eyes as Mrs Eceer. Deep set, sharp at the corners. Happy in a way Tanya hadn't yet seen on her face.

She slid it back, carefully. She didn't know if she was meant to see it.

Tanya dumped a haul of goods onto the windowsill. She walked over to Ishita, who was resting for a moment after sifting through the rubble. "I wanted to tell you something," she said, leaning in. "About that hand thing. Something weird happened.'"

"Yes?" Ishita sipped.

"It's got Boons. From me, I think," Tanya said, her gaze flicking toward Ishita's wrist.

Ishita blinked. "Boons? Like… from your line?" Her voice was quiet now, intrigued "I didn't know tattoos could get Boons too."

"They do if you burn 'em in with pressure, I guess." Tanya rubbed her forearm. "Remember when I helped feed you those memories for the summon? That was one. And when I tattooed the sigil—it wasn't just ink. Something clicked. Something activated."

"You're joking," Ishita said, but the way her voice faltered made it sound more like a hope than a belief.

"I'm not," Tanya said. "They're still… formin' I think. Just three dots so far. Like a loading screen."

Ishita turned her arm over and stared at Prosthetic like she was struggling to believe it. Her gaze bounced back to Tanya, pupils narrowed. "So it's stronger than it looks, but just… not ready?"

"Something like that." Tanya shifted her weight, thoughtful. "Mrs Eceer said how she unlocked new overlays—like info she can see—but it wasn't on her Interface until she had some grasp of it."

"Woah!" Fahad yelled from the back. "There's so many bowls and they all fit inside each other. It's like our ones at home but so many more!"

"Cool!" Ishita called back automatically, lifting her voice. "Remember we gotta carry everything we want."

"'Kay!"

Ishita blinked a few times, turning back to the conversation. "So these Boons will be an interface so I can see more magical things?"

Tanya shrugged. "Not really sure. Maybe? Assistant's gives it some levelling options and made it grow faster." She tucked some hair behind her ear. "I just thought you should know. And… I saw the notifications before you did. That's new. I think it's linked to the pact somehow."

"Oh, okay," Ishita said, casually, like she wasn't sure why that would matter.

Tanya supposed not everybody had experienced that time with Adder. Information was one of their most precious resources, but she wasn't sure how to communicate that.

They stood in that quiet space for a moment. Dust motes danced in a shaft of afternoon sun through the broken front window.

Eventually, the whine came from Fahad. "Are we dooooone?"

They packed what they could carry—bags slung over shoulders, arms loaded with cans and clean clothes, a bundle of preserved roots tied with ribbon. Mrs Eceer stood at the door of her flat for a long second, her fingers ghosting the frame.

"You sure? We can wait a bit if ya need," Tanya asked.

Mrs Eceer nodded. "It will still be here."

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