4338.209 · July 28, 2018 AD
Something Like Purpose
Beatrix is shuttling between worlds—burning sand on one side, bloodstained walls on the other. Kain needs crutches. Leigh is scrubbing the floor. Paul wants caravans. And somewhere in the chaos, she's forgotten where she left Duke's body. The guilt gnaws. The tasks multiply. But when Paul calls it a "mission," something shifts. For the first time, Beatrix isn't just surviving. She's choosing.
The sun in Clivilius doesn't welcome you. It interrogates.
Beatrix steps through the Portal into blinding heat and burning sand, Kain's voice already calling after her. He's injured. He needs help. She waves him off and keeps moving—there are promises to keep, gear to deliver, a rendezvous waiting on the other side.
But the other side is Luke's house. Blood dried on the walls. Glass crunching underfoot. Her own handprint preserved on the door like a warning. Leigh is there, scrubbing at stains that won't lift. She gathers camping supplies and portals back. Again. And again.
Then Paul arrives with a new demand: caravans. Motorhomes. Shelter the tents can't provide. He makes a gesture—too knowing, too specific—and uses the word "mission." Something ignites in her chest, hot and unfamiliar. Not just another task. A purpose.
But then he asks about Duke.
The guilt hits like cold water. She's forgotten. Where did she leave him?
The list grows: Duke. Jarod. Caravans. Too many fires, too few hands. But when she spots Jamie's car keys on the counter, something clicks.
"Bingo."
