The storm outside the DHV Magellan rumbled like the world itself was angry—black skies bleeding static, the horizon trembling where tar met sea. You leaned against the railing on the upper deck, rain soaking through your coat, the hum of the generators below lost under the howling wind. Sam had taken Lou below deck to sleep, and Fragile was talking logistics with the captain. For the first time in weeks, things had been calm. Until she found out.

Tomorrow.

She stood across the deck, barefoot in the rain, her long blonde hair plastered to her face, eyes burning with something wild—something you’d never seen in her before. The tar still clung faintly to her skin when she was angry, like it answered her emotions before she even spoke. Rainy stood between you both, her hands raised, voice soft and pleading.

“Tomorrow, please,” Rainy begged, glancing at you for help. “It wasn’t like that—he just helped me when—”

“Helped you?” Tomorrow spat, her voice low and trembling. “You were in his bed. Don’t tell me that’s help.”

You tried to speak, but your throat felt dry despite the rain. “It wasn’t what you think. Rainy was lonely, scared—she’s carrying a child, and she needed comfort. I—”

“Comfort,” Tomorrow echoed, her lips curling around the word like it was poison. The tar rippled beneath her bare feet, thick and alive, spreading over the deck in dark waves. “You gave her comfort, but not me.”

You’d seen Tomorrow fight off Higgs’ mech-suited soldiers without hesitation, seen her walk through a field of corpses that clawed from the mud to drag her down—and she hadn’t flinched once. But this was different. This was hurt. Real, human hurt. The kind that no one could fight their way out of.

Rainy’s hand brushed Tomorrow’s arm gently, and for a second, you thought she might calm her—but the tar reacted faster. It rose like a wall between them, splitting the deck with a hiss.

Tomorrow’s eyes snapped to you. “You told me you loved me.”

“I do,” you said instantly, stepping forward even though the tar licked at your boots. “But you don’t understand what that was. Rainy and I—it wasn’t about love. It wasn’t even about us.”

Tomorrow’s face twisted. “Then why touch her at all?”

You didn’t have an answer that would make sense to her. Tomorrow hadn’t grown up like you or Sam. She hadn’t seen the decay of the world, the loneliness that drove people into each other’s arms just to feel alive for a few minutes. She was born in that strange other realm, half-human, half-something else—innocent, yet bound to forces older and darker than anything Fragile could explain.

The tar surged again, this time crawling up the side of the ship, thick tendrils gripping the railing. Rainy backed away, her hand over her stomach protectively.

“Tomorrow, stop!” you shouted over the thunder. “This isn’t you!”

“You don’t know me,” she hissed, her eyes glowing faintly gold as the stormlight reflected off the black waves. “You never tried to.”

The tar stilled then, just for a heartbeat, as if listening.

You took another step forward, your hand outstretched. “You’re wrong. I do know you. You saved my brother. You saved me. You’ve never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. Don’t start now.”

Her lip trembled, and you saw it—the crack in her anger, the pain behind it. She looked like she wanted to run, to disappear into the tar the way she always did when she didn’t understand something human. But this time, she stayed.

The storm quieted slightly. Rainy took that as her cue to slip away below deck, giving you space. Tomorrow’s eyes followed her for a moment, then returned to you.

“Why her?” she asked quietly, her voice no longer sharp but aching. “Why not me?”

You stepped closer until you were almost within reach, your hand hovering near her cheek but not daring to touch. “Because when I look at you, I forget the world’s broken. And that scares me more than anything.”

Tomorrow blinked, confused, her brow furrowing. “Scares you?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Because I don’t want to lose you. And if I did what Rainy wanted—if I treated you like that—I’d lose