Codename: Midnight Thorn

The silence of the hideout was suffocating.

Myst lay on the thin mattress, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing into her bones. Sleep had come in broken fragments, shredded by nightmares that blurred the past and present.

Cold hands gripping her wrists. The sterile white walls of the government's facility. Flux's face, burning into her mind, before it all faded to darkness.

She exhaled sharply and sat up, running a hand through her tangled hair. Something heavy and familiar rested over her shoulders. Her fingers curled around the worn edges of the leather jacket he had given her.

A piece of him she couldn't let go of.

A sound outside the door pulled her out of her thoughts. The low murmur of voices—familiar, steady. The Clan was awake, likely discussing their next move. They had been patient with her, giving her space, but she knew it wouldn't last. She was part of this fight, whether she wanted to be or not.

She stood, pushing past the lingering heaviness in her limbs. As she stepped out of the room, the faint scent of smoke and metal greeted her. The hideout was barely a shelter—an abandoned structure repurposed as a temporary base.

The Clan was gathered around a worn-out table, maps and notes spread across the surface. Their conversation quieted the moment she entered.

"Look who's finally up," Echo muttered, a smirk playing on his lips. His tone was teasing, but there was a glimmer of concern beneath it. "Thought you were gonna sleep through the next mission."

Cipher barely looked up from his data pad. "Unlikely. She doesn't sleep enough to do that."

Myst ignored them, reaching for a half-empty bottle on the table. The cool water did little to ease the tightness in her throat.

"You should eat," Nyx said, his voice quieter than the others. "You've barely touched anything since we got back."

Myst took a sip of water and turned away. "I'm fine."

Razor, standing at the head of the table, watched her carefully but said nothing. Shade, leaning against the far wall, observed the exchange with unreadable eyes.

Blaze, who had been sharpening a knife, finally broke the silence with a scoff. "Fine doesn't look like that."

Myst didn't respond. Her fingers curled tighter around the leather jacket draped over her shoulders. Flux's absence was like a ghost that refused to leave her, and no matter how much she tried to push it away, it still followed her like a shadow.

The conversation around the table resumed, shifting back to strategy. Plans were being made. About the government, about their next move. But Myst barely listened.

The weight of the jacket, the weight of everything, held her still in place.

Echo leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs. "You know, brooding in a corner isn't going to bring him back."

Cipher shot him a warning glance. "Shut up, man."

"I'm just saying," Echo shrugged. "We all lost people. We all have ghosts. But staring at that jacket like it's going to whisper secrets to you isn't gonna change anything."

Myst gripped on the bottle harder than necessary. "I didn't ask for your opinion."

"No, but you're getting it anyway," Echo shot back, though there was no real bite in his voice. "We move forward, Myst. Do you think that's what he wants you to do?"

Shade finally spoke, his voice level. "We're in the middle of a war. Tell us if you're tapping out."

Razor folded his arms, sighing deeply as he masks his concern. "No one's forcing you. But we need you to cooperate if you're with us, Myst."

Myst looked around the table, at each of them—people who had become her family in ways she never expected. Their concern wasn't just about the mission. It was also about her. They needed her whole, not just a shadow of herself.

She inhaled deeply, pushing past the heaviness in her chest. She rubbed her nose anxiously, the atmosphere almost making her tear up.

She wasn't sure she was ready, but they were right. They're a team. They're the Clan.

"Fine," she said. "What do I do?"

The tension in the room eased slightly. The maps were pushed forward, and the discussion resumed. The mission had to move forward, and so did she.

Even if she wasn't sure how.