4338.207 · July 26, 2018 AD
Blood, Firelight, and Secrets
Everyone has secrets here. Glenda's is older than the others realise—older than Bixbus, older than the impossible boy who keeps dying and coming back. When Paul asks what she knows, she deflects. When the fire burns low and the questions grow sharper, she retreats. But alone in her tent, the deflection falls away. Her father spoke of this place. He vanished into it. And she's beginning to believe he's still alive.
The fire crackles. Glenda arranges makeshift log seats and imagines Pierre beside her, his terrible jokes, the curl of his grin. Then Joel appears—stumbling between Paul and Jamie, blood running from his nose.
Real blood. In his veins. A medical anomaly that defies every textbook she's ever read.
Night falls. Whiskey passes hand to hand. Laughter breaks the tension until Luke bursts from Joel's tent and vanishes into the dark. Portal lights flash on the horizon. And Paul asks the question that's been circling: Do you know something you're not telling us?
She deflects. She doesn't know—not concretely. But her father's theories are clawing their way back into her mind. They no longer sound fantastical.
Later, she gathers Paul and Kain for her gratitude ritual. Elbows to ribs. Reluctant words. A snort that sends Kain storming off. And alone in her tent, a single tear, a whispered promise:
I will find you, Father.
