4338.211 · July 30, 2018 AD
Light the Fire
Luke gets to collect his family. Kain gets to watch from the fire and pretend the voice offering him the same thing isn't poison. The contrast breaks something loose — Brianne unreachable, his daughter growing in a womb he'll never touch, while Luke plans a reunion that spans dimensions. As the flames dance and Clive whispers about lighting fires and sharing light, Kain finds himself agreeing to something he doesn't fully understand.
The campfire burns and Kain watches Luke plan a future that includes everyone he loves.
Adelaide. Parents. Siblings. A family gathered and protected and brought together across dimensions. Luke has that waiting for him — people who can be collected, saved, kept. Meanwhile Kain sits on a crate with crutches propped against his wounded leg, Brianne's face fading in his memory, his daughter growing somewhere he can't reach.
The unfairness chokes him.
He snaps at Luke. The frustration and fear condense into accusations that accomplish nothing. Paul intervenes. The conversation moves on, logistics and keys and the endless machinery of survival grinding forward regardless of anyone's feelings.
But something has shifted inside Kain.
The whisper slides through his consciousness. Clive has been waiting for this moment — the isolation, the envy, the desperate longing for something that feels like purpose. The mirage surfaces again: Brianne smiling, their daughter laughing, a future that might be possible.
Light the fire. Share the light.
He looks around at his unchosen family. Karen and Chris. Nial. Paul. People bound by circumstance, building something from nothing. Could this become something worth protecting?
Light the fire. Share the light.
The words resonate with something tired of fighting alone.
"Let's do this."
The whisper escapes. Paul glances over, confused. Kain just meets his gaze and nods.
The fire burns on. And somewhere in the depths of his mind, Clive stirs — satisfied, patient, waiting.
