The Skyknife thrummed beneath them – steady, low, almost calming. A lie of a heartbeat.

Liz sat near the rear of the hold, boots braced against the struts, her harness clipped in more out of habit than fear. The view through the narrow slit window was just clouds now. Endless white, drifting by like the last five years.

She didn't realise Chloe was watching her until the silence broke.

"You've been… different," Chloe said, voice even. "Lately. Distant."

Liz blinked. Didn't look over. Just followed the clouds. "Yeah. I guess I have."

She heard Chloe shift but didn't push. Just let it hang.

Liz inhaled – slow, shaky. "It's not you."

A beat passed.

"It's the waiting," Liz said. "The false alarms. The fake coordinates. Those fucking traps where we almost lost Alyssa. Vienna, Saint Petersburg, Johannesburg... Always some hint, some trace of him, and then nothing." Her voice cracked on the last word. She swallowed hard and pushed on. "It eats at you. Makes you wonder if you're chasing a ghost. Or if he's already… gone. And you just haven't accepted it yet."

Chloe didn't speak.

"I stopped hoping," Liz said, softer now. "Stopped letting myself believe. Just kept moving forward. One lead to the next. I thought – if I could keep us all busy, maybe I wouldn't have to feel it."

The Skyknife dipped slightly. They were descending.

Liz finally turned. Chloe was still watching her, expression unreadable but present. Steady in a way Liz wasn't sure she'd earned anymore.

"But you…" Liz said, voice gentler now. "You gave me the first real hope I've had in five years."

Chloe looked away, embarrassed. "It wasn't just me. Ying found the signature. Grimm decrypted—"

"No," Liz interrupted. "You brought this to us. You followed it when no one else believed. You got us here. You brought me back to him."

Chloe exhaled a breath she'd been holding. "It's not that big a deal."

"It is to me."

For a moment, they just sat there. Two girls grown too fast, sitting in a flying war machine above a broken continent, staring at each other like they hadn't in years.

Then Liz reached out. Her fingers brushed Chloe's knuckles. She didn't take her hand. Just touched it – light, but real.

"Thank you."

Chloe didn't smile. But she didn't pull away either.

…………………

Chloe didn't move when Liz touched her hand. Just let the warmth settle there between them. For once, she didn't disappear. Didn't ghost out. She held on.

Then she pulled back – not cold, just thoughtful – and leaned forward, elbows on her knees, eyes on the floor.

"You know," she said, voice low, "we didn't trust him. Not at first."

Liz tilted her head. "My dad?"

"Yeah."

Chloe met her gaze now. Steady. Honest.

"Me and Alyssa… we thought he was reckless. That he didn't care about anything but getting you back. Like we were just obstacles. Or tools." She gave a short, humourless breath. "A man with Hellfire in his veins, screaming at demons, dragging half the world into ruin just to save one girl? It scared the shit out of us."

Liz didn't answer. Didn't flinch either.

"But then… he didn't stop." Chloe's voice softened. "Didn't stop throwing himself into the fire. Even when we told him to back off. Even when we didn't want his help."

She paused. Her voice dipped lower.

"But there was this one time. Our plane got hit – somewhere over China. On the way to Japan to find Hana. The first time. Anti-air fire from a rogue contractor cell. No warning. Just… impact, fire, then freefall."

Liz's breath caught. "You never told me that."

Chloe gave a crooked smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "You were safe in the pod. Didn't need to know. I didn't want to worry you. We crashed somewhere near west of Shanghai. Snow everywhere. We thought we'd be safe if we stayed quiet, but we weren't even done dragging the wounded out before they came."

Liz leaned forward, lips parted slightly. Listening.

"The army. Contractors. Masked freaks working for someone – likely Verrine. I still don't know. But they came for us hard."

Her hand rose, unconsciously brushing the pale scar along her neck. A tight, shiny crescent where skin should've healed smooth.

"Alyssa was screaming. I froze. Couldn't phase. I was just… there. Useless."

Liz's voice was soft. "That's the scar. You told me you got it from a crash."

Chloe nodded once. "Yeah."

"You never asked Dan to heal it?"

Chloe's eyes flicked up. Serious. "No."

"Why not?"

Chloe kept her gaze.

"Because I needed to remember," Chloe said. "What it felt like to be powerless. To watch people die and know I couldn't do a thing. I never want to feel that again."

Liz swallowed.

Chloe leaned back slightly, exhaling. "But Max… he didn't freeze. He stepped in front of a fucking machine gun. Just stood there while they emptied a full belt into him. Blood everywhere. He collapsed – I thought he was dead. But within a few days he got up and walked again like it was nothing."

Her voice cracked at the edges now. Not awe. Something closer to guilt. Or maybe reverence.

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"I saw him differently after that. Not because he lived… but because he didn't hesitate. He didn't care what it cost."

She looked at Liz.

"And now I get it. He wasn't trying to be the hero. He just couldn't let us die."

A long pause. The hum of the engines filled the space between them.

"You're the same," Chloe said finally. "You burn yourself down for us. Whether we deserve it or not."

Liz didn't speak. Just stared at the scar on Chloe's neck, and what it meant.

She leaned back now, shoulders finally relaxing against the padded seat, gaze drifting to the bulkhead.

"You're like that too, you know."

Liz blinked.

"You pretend you're cold. Controlled. But you've always been the first to dive in. First to stand between us and whatever's coming. You think we don't see it, but we do."

Liz looked away. Her jaw tightened. Not in anger – just discomfort. Like something raw had been exposed.

Chloe didn't push. Just let it land.

"You're your father's daughter," she said softly. "In all the good ways."

The cabin lights flickered slightly. Somewhere up front, Dan's voice rumbled through the comms, low and distant. They were getting close.

Chloe reached for the harness buckle but didn't click it yet. She looked at Liz again.

"Whatever we're about to walk into… he'd be proud of you."

Liz didn't speak.

But she didn't look away, either.

…………………

The hum of the Skyknife deepened as it began its long descent. A change in pressure, barely noticeable – unless you were waiting for it. Liz felt it in her spine, like the air was holding its breath.

She looked at Chloe again. The way she was sitting – shoulders forward, hands loosely clasped between her knees – like the whole story of the crash still clung to her skin. Not just the scar. The weight of it.

"I'm sorry," Liz said softly.

Chloe blinked. "For what?"

"For shutting you out."

There wasn't any defensiveness in her voice. No justifications. Just truth. Plain and heavy.

"I thought… if I focused everything on the mission, I wouldn't have to feel how broken I was. How afraid. How angry. And I figured… you'd understand. That you'd forgive me later, when it was over."

Chloe gave her a sideways glance. "And now that it's not over?"

Liz huffed, almost a laugh, almost a sob. "Now I just feel like shit."

They sat with that a moment.

Chloe exhaled slowly. "I do get it. Honestly."

Liz raised an eyebrow.

"Sometimes," Chloe said, "when it all gets too much – when I can feel the screaming on the other side of the veil, and I can't tell if it's demons or just me – I want to ghost out. Just… vanish. Slide into a wall and stay there."

She glanced down at her gloved hand. Flexed it.

"People think phasing's easy. It's not. It hurts, sometimes. And the longer you're out of sync with the world, the harder it is to come back."

Her voice got quiet.

"There were days I didn't want to come back."

Liz reached across the gap between them and grabbed her wrist – not hard, not sudden, just firm. Grounding.

"No."

Chloe looked up.

"I see you," Liz said. "Even when you fade. Even when you're hiding. I see you. And I need you to come back. Every time."

Her voice didn't shake.

"I will always be here. For you."

The look that crossed Chloe's face wasn't relief. It was something more raw than that. Something more important – recognition. Of being seen. Of being known. And of being held there, gently, without judgement.

Chloe swallowed hard. Nodded once.

Liz let go.

"You're allowed to ghost out," Liz added. "Just not from me."

Chloe smiled, small and broken and real.

"Deal."

…………………

They sat together in silence as the VTOL shifted altitude again, dropping through thinner clouds. The cabin lights dimmed slightly – just enough to notice the shift. Final approach.

Liz was quiet now but not withdrawn. She was watching Chloe. Really watching.

After a moment, Chloe gave a short breath. "You don't owe me anything, you know."

Liz frowned slightly. "That's not true."

"It is," Chloe said, leaning back into the seat and running a hand through her hair. "You would've done the same for me. You have, a dozen times. You pulled my ass out of Kyoto when the yokai charged that last time – that hellish final wave. You stopped Alyssa from turning herself in when she thought she'd killed that kid. You carried all of us when you'd only just woken up."

Liz shook her head. "That's different. That was after."

"After what?"

"After you brought me back," Liz said, voice low. "When everyone else gave up on me – when I was a husk, barely breathing – you were still there. You sat with me. You talked to me. You never let me be forgotten."

Her throat tightened.

"You're the reason I came back sane. And now you've brought me all the way back to him."

Chloe didn't reply. She just looked away for a second, staring at the bulkhead, like it hurt to hear.

Liz reached forward again. Not to touch her this time – just to close the space between them.

"I don't know how to repay that."

Chloe gave a soft, crooked smile. "You don't."

Liz hesitated. "But—"

"You can't," Chloe said gently. "That's not how this works. You live. You fight beside me. And you continue to be my best friend. That's the deal."

A long beat passed.

Then Chloe added, "If you really want to pay me back…"

Liz looked up.

"Make sure we all walk out of Prague. Including yourself."

Liz exhaled sharply through her nose. Almost a laugh. "No pressure, huh?"

Chloe smirked. "You owe me a coffee, too. A real one. With real milk. Somewhere not haunted."

Liz held out her hand.

"Deal."

They shook on it.

Outside, the clouds broke – and the silhouette of Prague appeared in the distance. Too intact. Too clean. No fires, no smoke, no signs of the war that scarred every other capital in Europe.

Chloe narrowed her eyes.

"Something's wrong with that city."

Liz's red halo pulsed once. "Yeah."

They both stood as the cabin lights turned amber. Dan's voice came over the intercom, low and steady.

"Final insertion in sixty seconds."

Time was up.

…………………

Ying stood near the open cargo ramp of the Skyknife, eyes closed, breathing slow.

The air was thin at this altitude, and colder than it should've been. But that wasn't what she focused on.

She could feel it – beneath the metal, beneath gravity itself. That invisible grain of the world. The way reality resisted touch, like tension in stretched paper.

She reached for her sword.

It wasn't enchanted. No runes. No tech.

Just steel.

That was all she needed.

Because it wasn't the blade that did the slicing. It was her.

The others moved behind her, quiet. Preparing packs. Checking gear. The final checks before an infiltration. But they gave her space. Everyone knew not to interrupt her during a cut.

Ying stepped forward, planting one foot at the very edge of the ramp. Wind whipped her hair sideways. She opened her eyes.

Below them: clouds breaking like surf, and beyond that, the spires of Prague. Gleaming. Untouched. Too clean.

Too wrong.

She didn't trust this city.

"Target's the rooftop," she murmured, half to herself. "South annex of the Aria Hotel. Empty, clear of wards. Anchor point confirmed."

She raised her sword in both hands, angled it slightly to the left.

And sliced.

Not at the air. Not through it.

Through reality.

The blade moved in one clean arc, slow and deliberate. There was no sound – only the ripple. The tearing. Like wet canvas being split in a vacuum. A black line followed the edge of the sword as she drew it downward, and space itself peeled open.

It didn't glow. It didn't shimmer. It just was – a vertical wound, the edges quivering like muscle around a fresh cut. Inside it: a perfect portal, no larger than a doorframe, leading to the rooftop she had marked days ago.

She marvelled, briefly, at how far she'd come. Five years ago, she could barely cut a short-range slice without bleeding from the nose. A simple line-of-sight jump left her reeling. Holding the portal open while others passed through had once felt like letting her soul be unstitched – every second a scream. Now? She could maintain the tear for minutes, longer if needed, and barely flinch. The void obeyed her because she'd bled for it. Fought in it. Learned its moods, its scars. She'd sliced through concrete, through demon bone, through half a dozen ambushes and city walls. She wasn't just moving through the world anymore. She was carving it.

She looked through the voidslice. Slate tiles. Clean deck chairs. The distant glint of the Charles Bridge beyond.

The smell that poured through wasn't Prague's. Not really. It was too still. Too sterile.

Like a dollhouse.

"Rift's clean," Ying called out, eyes still on the slice. "No distortion. No echo lag. We're good."

Chloe stepped up beside her, mask already drawn, blade sheathed at her back. "I hate this part."

Ying didn't smile. "Then don't get lost."

Chloe smirked anyway and stepped through.

The rift swallowed her like ink.

One by one, the others followed.

Alyssa, gauntlets flexed, eyes narrowed.

Dan, with the calm gravity of a man who'd seen too many last goodbyes.

Liz stepped up last. Her red halo flickered once, then steadied. She didn't say anything. Just looked at Ying.

"You ready?" Ying asked.

"I've been ready for five years," Liz said.

She disappeared through the tear.

Ying exhaled. The blade in her hand still buzzed faintly – not with magic, but with potential. With strain. She could feel it in her bones – the cut would last only seconds more before collapsing. She'd have time for one more step.

She glanced back at the cockpit. Grimm was watching her from behind the glass. No orders. Just a nod.

Ying turned, stepped into the wound she'd made—

—And the world closed behind her.

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