Silence had returned to Haven-17.
Days had passed since Nazirino's departure, and Elias had resumed his meticulous routine.
Each morning unfolded the same: inspecting traps, checking defenses, training Grimm and Ash.
The life of a man who knew that, in a dead world, negligence was a death sentence.
Yet, today, something felt different.
An unease in the air.
Like the scent of smoke before the fire.
---
Elias was finishing reinforcing a wire-trap near the outer trail when Grimm suddenly lifted his head.
Across the courtyard, Ash growled low.
Both locked their eyes on the northern trail.
Elias immediately froze.
Instinct.
Something was coming.
And it wasn't the wind.
It wasn't an animal.
It was... different.
---
Moving cautiously, Elias approached the improvised sensor panel.
The old system, cobbled from salvaged drone parts and solar panels, blinked in a discrete pattern.
One of the external motion sensors had triggered.
A presence.
Still distant, but real.
And above all — silent.
Very silent.
Whoever it was knew how to move unseen.
Elias felt his muscles tense.
He straightened slowly and whistled softly.
Grimm and Ash immediately assumed defensive positions, alert, noses high.
---
He returned inside the refuge, moving with a predator's precision.
He grabbed his long-range rifle, checked the pistol's magazine, and loaded improvised grenades.
Old war rituals.
The radio remained silent.
No warnings.
No communication.
Which meant:
This wasn't a call.
It was an invasion.
---
Elias climbed to the upper surveillance level — a small lookout post hidden within the hillside.
Through a modified scope, he swept the northern trail.
Nothing.
No movement.
But he knew.
He knew something — or someone — was there.
Waiting.
Watching.
---
Minutes dragged like hours.
The tension thickened the air.
Grimm and Ash remained perfectly still, their breathing controlled, every fiber ready to strike.
Finally, Elias saw it.
A glint.
Very faint.
Almost imperceptible.
Among the rocks, something metallic reflected the dying light.
A piece of armor?
A visor lens?
He adjusted the scope, trying to focus.
But whatever it was — vanished in an instant.
---
Trained individuals.
Professionals.
Mercenaries.
Or worse.
The Fallen.
Elias retreated silently into Haven-17.
Time to prepare for battle.
He knew an open-field fight would be suicide.
The refuge had been designed to withstand attacks.
Each corridor could be sealed.
Each room could become a deathtrap.
---
He triggered maximum alert mode.
Secondary doors sealed.
Alternative passages mined.
Internal lights dimmed to emergency red.
The shelter transformed from home into fortress.
Grimm and Ash moved with him, silent and ready.
If it was an invasion, they would not give up Haven-17 without a fight.
---
The first explosion came from the eastern sector.
One of the proximity mines.
The blast shook the structure.
Elias smiled grimly.
The enemy was testing his defenses.
---
Moments later, rapid footsteps.
Movement along the perimeter.
Attackers trying to flank the refuge.
But Haven-17 had no blind spots.
Not for Elias.
He knew every rock, every shadow of that place.
And while the invaders searched for a weakness, Elias prepared his answer.
---
From a hidden compartment under the workshop, he pulled an old grenade launcher.
Loaded it with custom fragmentation rounds.
There would be no mercy.
This was his home.
And he would defend it until his last breath.
---
The first shadows appeared at the main entrance.
Three figures.
Light tactical gear.
Coordinated movements.
They tried disabling the manual traps.
They failed.
One man was struck by a hidden steel spike beneath the sand.
His scream was brief, cut off by blood.
The other two immediately retreated, seeking cover behind rocks.
But Haven-17 was not just a refuge.
It was a living trap.
Elias launched the first grenade.
The explosion lit the night with red and gold flashes.
---
Ash and Grimm, under silent command, flanked the attackers.
Quick as living blades.
One invader fell, neck torn open, letting out a final gurgle before silence.
The other turned to flee — and found Elias waiting.
One clean shot.
Dropped dead.
---
For a moment, silence.
But Elias knew.
It was only the beginning.
Sensor lights blinked again.
Movement deeper inside.
Someone — or something — had accessed the northern ventilation shaft.
A flaw.
A mistake.
A vulnerability he had always meant to fix, but never found time.
Now he would have to face it.
---
He ordered Grimm to guard the dormitory and Ash to cover the workshop.
He himself moved toward the northern tunnel.
Rifle ready.
Breathing calm.
Listening.
Sensing.
---
A shadow moved inside the shaft.
Small.
Agile.
Not an adult.
Maybe a teenager.
Or someone very thin.
But armed.
And deadly.
Elias didn't hesitate.
He fired.
The echo of the shot filled the refuge.
A body dropped, stirring dust.
No celebration.
Only the cold acknowledgment that it was necessary.
---
He advanced cautiously, sweeping the tunnel.
The intruder was dead.
A girl.
No more than seventeen.
Eyes wide in terror.
A hunting knife still gripped in trembling hands.
Elias sighed heavily.
The war turned even children into weapons.
---
Returning to the refuge center, he saw the emergency lights blinking.
More sensors triggered.
More movement.
More enemies.
And then, the radio — the old silent radio — crackled to life.
A voice rose from the static.
Faint.
Almost a whisper.
"...Thorne... we need to talk..."
It was a voice he recognized.
But impossible.
A ghost from the past.
Someone he knew was dead.
Or should have been.
---
Elias's blood froze.
His grip tightened on the rifle.
Staring at the radio like staring into an abyss.
The threat was greater than he thought.
Not just physical.
Something deeper.
Something that dragged ancient secrets back to the surface.
Secrets that maybe even Haven-17 could no longer bury.
---
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