The muffled clang of distant gunfire echoed down Persephone’s flooded steel corridors, dulled by the water still seeping into the lower levels. Eleanor stood in the dim light, the glass of her new Big Sister helmet fogging slightly from her breath. Her silhouette was lean but powerful now. Yet beneath the armor, her hands tightened around the ADAM needle—not from fear, but from the weight of what was coming.

Through the visor, she watched Subject Delta advance ahead, his heavy boots thudding against the metal floor. She could still feel the faint thread between them—frayed but not severed—like the echo of a heartbeat that wasn’t her own. Every so often, he would pause to glance back at her. He never spoke, but he didn’t have to. She knew. He was making sure she was still there.

As they passed a shattered observation window, the light of the ocean spilled in, illuminating the floating silhouettes of debris—and, for a moment, Eleanor’s own reflection. The helmet hid her face, but she could still see the faint outline of the girl she’d been. Not the holy vessel her mother wanted. Not the helpless child she once was. Something… new.

“Father,” she spoke, her voice steady despite the chaos outside, “When we reach the lift… there’s no going back. If you want to rest—if you want to stop—I’ll stay with you. But if we go forward, we both see this through to the end.”

Delta’s answer came in the smallest of gestures—just a slow, deliberate nod before he turned and resumed the march. It was all the answer she needed.

She followed, steps in perfect rhythm with his, her mind already on the others—the Little Sisters scattered through Rapture’s ruins, waiting for someone to bring them home. They weren’t just pieces of her rebellion anymore; they were hers to protect, the way he had once protected her.

Somewhere far above, the surface waited. She imagined the sunlight on the waves, the taste of salt on the air, and for the first time in years, the thought didn’t feel like a dream.