Elias sat up, the chill of the room biting at his bare shoulders. His heart hammered against his ribs. He looked over at Elena, still breathing softly, oblivious. He carefully rolled out of bed, grabbing his jeans from the floor and his jacket from the back of the chair.

The call came at three in the morning, vibrating hard enough against the wooden nightstand to wake the heavy sleeper beside him. Elias didn’t fumble. His hand clamped over the phone instantly, sliding the green icon before the second ring could cut through the silence of the dark bedroom. He didn't say hello. He waited.

The truck bounced violently as Elias turned off the main road onto the dirt path leading to the ruins of the Aden cannery. He killed the lights a quarter-mile out, coasting the rest of the way in the dark, guided only by the faint, pale glow of the moon breaking through the mist.

Elias looked at his oldest friend, then down at the heavy case in his hand. He didn't waste his five minutes on a goodbye. He turned and ran into the dark. What kind of genre or plot twist

"What about you?" Elias gripped the cold handle of the case.

Elias hadn't seen Marcus in three years. Marcus had gone deep into private intelligence, chasing ghosts in the corporate sector.

Twenty minutes later, Elias was pushing his rusted truck through the dense coastal fog. The headlights barely punched through the grey soup, reflecting off the skeletal pine trees that lined the cliffside road. His mind raced back to the academy, to the four of them—Elias, Marcus, Silas, and Clara. They had promised to look out for each other, no matter where life scattered them. Marcus was the one who came up with the emergency protocol.