Sergeant Barry Smith was practically buzzing with restrained excitement. For the first time in weeks, he felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. The team he'd been assigned to had welcomed him in as if he'd always been part of them. They didn't just hand him orders — they listened, consulted, and worked through every step of the plan together. It wasn't the usual top-down op he was used to. This was tighter, sharper. Smarter.

They'd even dug up a spare set of tactical gear for him, fitting it out with quiet efficiency until he looked like one of them. Standing shoulder to shoulder in the briefing room, he hadn't felt like an outsider at all. He felt ready.

The decision had been made after much debate: no nighttime raid. Too many blind spots, too much room for mistakes. Instead, they would strike at dawn, when shadows were long but visibility was clear, when the Riders would be least expecting a hit.

By this time tomorrow, Barry told himself, it would all be over. The Riders would be finished. And maybe — just maybe — he'd finally be able to breathe easy.

They'd cleared the scrub, built their airsoft course, and even added bases at each end. Well — "bases" might have been generous. They were more like cubby forts, complete with beanbag chairs and secret food stashes. Now, Max and Kaitlyn had decided the only thing left to do was sleep in them.

Emma rubbed the bridge of her nose as her twins harangued her.

"Mum, can we? Can we? Pleeease, Mum?"

Their excitement over tomorrow's birthday was reaching fever pitch, and camping out in their forts had apparently become the final must-have adventure.

"Muuum?" they whined in perfect unison, eyes wide, smiles just shy of mischievous.

Emma sighed. They wouldn't get much sleep — they'd be overtired on their big day — but honestly, they rarely slept in their own beds before birthdays anyway. Besides, a quiet evening before the chaos tomorrow sounded pretty good.

"Fine," she said, pointing a finger at them. "But not until you've had dinner and a shower."

The twins seized each other's hands and began bouncing in excited circles.

"Yay!" "You're the best, Mum!"

Emma shook her head, but she couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips.

Zane stood at the lounge room window, watching the sun still climbing higher. Behind him, the others lounged in varying states of food-coma, their big breakfast sitting heavy in their stomachs. Lily was the only one still moving, scribbling the last of her notes into her ever-present notebook.

"Look," Zane said, turning back to them, "it's still early, but we've been up for over twenty-four hours. I don't feel as wrecked as I should, but I think we all need some sleep."

Tarni stretched and yawned. "Yeah, probably need less sleep as we level up. Part of the whole System deal."

Everyone murmured their agreement. It made sense — they all felt it.

"Okay," Zane continued, "we'll crash for four hours, get some lunch, then head to the cube to see what insane thing the System's got lined up next."

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Kai raised his head from where he'd been half-dozing on the couch. "You think we need someone on watch?"

They considered it, then shook their heads almost in unison. Monsters were dungeon-only now. The house and property were safe.

"Alright then," Zane said.

Together they shuffled through the kitchen, cleaning dishes and packing leftovers with a practiced teamwork that needed no discussion. Within minutes, the counters were clear, the floors wiped, and the house once again quiet.

Then, without any more words, they each drifted off to their rooms. One by one, doors clicked shut, and the house settled into silence as the party finally surrendered to rest.

Lily climbed into bed and was asleep within seconds of her head hitting the pillow. It wasn't long before the dreams came.

They weren't the kind of nightmares filled with fangs and claws — no, these monsters wore human faces. They sneered as they chained others, their laughter sharp as steel biting into wrists. Voices echoed through her mind, distorted and overlapping, cries for help woven into cruel commands.

She tossed and turned as the dream carried her deeper. Scenes blurred together: fields on fire, cages rattling, hands reaching through bars. The slavers looked more grotesque with each passing moment — their features stretching, warping, eyes glowing with hunger — but they were still people.

One moment stuck with her, sharper than the rest. Uncle Tarn stood there, hand on her shoulder, stopping her blade from striking. His voice, calm but firm: "No killing them, Lily."

The denial burned inside her chest even in the dream, but then — strangely — the fire eased. That single choice unravelled the nightmare's grip. The shouting faded, the cages melted into mist, and the shadows thinned into silence.

Her body finally stilled. She rolled onto her side, and her breathing softened. After that moment, her dreams grew lighter, quieter. She slept more soundly.

Tarni's dreams were heavier, darker.

He had stopped Lily from killing, not wanting her to carry the guilt of taking a human life. She was still just a kid in his mind, his best mate's daughter. She deserved better than that. He had told himself he could shoulder it instead, that he was older, tougher, that it wouldn't break him.

But the dream disagreed.

He stood in a field of corpses, all the slavers he had cut down. Their eyes were open, fixed on him, accusing and endless. Every one of them looked too human — not faceless monsters, but men with brothers, fathers, sons. Their mouths moved in silence, but in the dream he understood the words: Why, Brother?

He tried to turn away, but the field stretched forever, bodies as far as he could see. His hands were red and dripping, no matter how hard he tried to wipe them clean.

And then Lily was there, younger than she really was, small and bright, her face streaked with tears. She looked up at him and whispered, "You didn't let me… why did you do it yourself?"

The weight of the words crushed his chest. He reached for her, but she stepped back into the dark, leaving him alone with the bodies and their staring eyes.

Tarni jolted in his sleep, breath ragged, sweat beading at his temples. His body eventually stilled again, but his rest remained shallow, haunted.

Four hours later, Zane's old wind-up alarm clattered to life, its harsh ringing jolting him and Bell awake. For a moment neither of them moved, both blinking at the ceiling as if surfacing from deep water. Then Zane turned and pulled her into a hug. No words were needed; they both knew the embrace was less about affection and more about steadying each other.

They rose slowly, the ache of exhaustion settling in their bones despite the System's healing. One by one they roused the others, voices kept soft, movements heavier than usual.

By the time breakfast was sizzling on the stove, Bell was watching everyone closely. The way Lily pushed food around her plate without speaking. The way Tarni rubbed his temples as if he'd been grinding his teeth all night. Kai tried to hum while slicing fruit, but his tune faltered every few seconds. Even Zane had that faraway look, eyes glazed, jaw tight.

Bell cleared her throat. "Rough night?" she asked gently.

No one looked up. A silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.

"I dreamt—" she started again, but Tarni cut her off with a sharp shake of his head.

"Don't," he muttered. "Not yet."

The others nodded almost in unison. Whatever had haunted them, none of them were ready to speak it aloud.

Bell swallowed her reply and let the conversation drift toward safer topics. She knew they couldn't avoid it forever—but maybe today wasn't the day to dig open wounds. For now, they just needed food, warmth, and to face whatever the System threw at them next.

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