"Claire, we have breaking news regarding the B-rank rift in Circular Quay." The news anchor's voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable tension beneath it. "The rift has officially been closed… but as of this moment, not a single hunter has been reported exiting."
The words barely registered.
Elise sat frozen, her fingers clenched tightly around her phone. She had already sent Ethan dozens of messages.
No reply.
She swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as her vision blurred. He's fine. He's always fine.
On-screen, the reporters continued.
"It has now been thirty minutes since the rift's closure," the reporter continued, standing near the secured rift site. "And still, no sign of survivors. Historically, no hunter has ever exited after ten minutes of a rift closing. As of this moment the thirty hunters who entered the B-rank rift are presumed dead."
Elise's breath hitched.
The phone nearly slipped from her fingers.
She forced herself to breathe in and out but the room felt like it was closing in around her, the voices from the television growing distant and warped.
This wasn't happening.
Tears streamed down Elise's face, warm and unrelenting, but she barely noticed them. Her phone sat in her lap, the screen still open to the dozens of messages she had sent.
Ethan?
Are you okay?
Please answer me.
Ethan, please…
Nothing.
Her chest hurt, like something heavy had settled inside, pressing down, making it impossible to breathe. She curled up on the couch, knees to her chest, arms wrapped around them as if that would stop the trembling.
The news played in the background, voices murmuring about the rift, about how no one had made it out. Words she didn't want to hear.
She shut her eyes tight, her fingers gripping her sleeves.
No.
Ethan wouldn't die. He was strong. He always came home.
A knock at the door made her flinch.
She wiped her face quickly, sniffing hard before sliding off the couch. The knock came again, gentle, patient.
"Elise?" A woman's voice called.
She hesitated.
Slowly, she reached for the handle, twisting it open.
A woman stood on the other side, dressed in neat clothes, her brown hair tied back in a low ponytail. Something about her being here made Elise's stomach twist. A small emblem was pinned to her chest—Feathers Guild.
"Elise Ward?" the woman asked, her voice kind.
Elise nodded, gripping the doorframe.
The woman exhaled softly. "My name is Sarah. I was hoping I could talk to you for a little while. Is that okay?"
Elise hesitated but then stepped aside, barely noticing the way Sarah gave her a small, reassuring smile as she entered the tiny apartment.
Sarah glanced around briefly, the old furniture, the tiny kitchen, the blanket Elise had dragged to the couch. She didn't comment, just set down a folder on the small table before sitting in one of the chairs.
She folded her hands in front of her. "I know this is a hard time for you," she began carefully. "I won't take too much of your time, but I wanted to go over some things about Ethan."
Elise's stomach twisted again. She bit her lip hard to stop it from trembling.
Sarah continued gently. "Ethan wasn't part of Feathers Guild, but he worked alongside a lot of our hunters. Because of that, we're handling his contract and what comes next."
Elise didn't say anything.
Sarah reached into the folder, pulling out a few papers. "This is the contract Ethan signed before entering the rift. He was promised a payment when the job was complete. And because he didn't come back, there is also something called a death compensation."
Elise barely looked at the papers. The words didn't mean anything to her.
"Death compensation," she repeated numbly. "That's… money?"
Sarah nodded. "Yes."
Elise frowned, suddenly feeling small and confused. Money didn't bring Ethan back. Money didn't make anything better. What was she even supposed to do with it?
She wanted Ethan. Not this.
Sarah seemed to understand. She set the papers aside. "You don't have to worry about any of that right now," she said, voice warm. "There's no rush."
Elise swallowed hard.
Sarah hesitated, then reached into her bag, pulling out a small black tablet. She slid it across the table, tapping the screen. A logo appeared—Feathers Guild Academy—Sponsored Enrollment Program.
"Elise," Sarah said softly. "Ethan worked hard to take care of you. I know he wanted you to have a future. Feathers Guild has a program for young people. If you want, we'd like to sponsor you."
Elise stared at the screen.
"You mean… you want me to be a hunter?" she asked, voice small.
Sarah shook her head. "Not just a hunter. The academy trains people for all kinds of things. Office workers, researchers, medics. It's a chance for a good job. A safe one."
A life where she wouldn't have to go into rifts. Where she wouldn't have to end up like Ethan.
Elise bit her lip. But if she had been stronger… if she had been like Ethan… maybe she could have stopped him from going in the first place.
She didn't know what to say.
Sarah didn't push. She just nodded and stood, gathering the papers and leaving only the tablet behind.
"If you ever want to join, just let us know," she said gently. "We'll take care of the rest."
Elise stared down at the screen, her fingers pressing against the edge.
Sarah lingered at the door. "Take care of yourself, Elise," she said softly. "And if you ever need help, Feathers Guild is always here." She slid her card over the table. "I'm also always here."
Then she left, the door clicking quietly behind her.
Elise sat down at the table, staring at the academy program, the contract, the untouched forms.
Outside, the city kept moving.
Inside, everything had stopped.
The apartment felt colder than usual.
Elise curled up on the couch, hugging her knees, staring blankly at the television. The news had moved on—some other rift had opened somewhere, some new crisis unfolding—but she didn't care. She muted the screen, letting the silent images flicker across her tired eyes.
She didn't know how long she sat there.
The lights in the apartment were dim, casting long shadows over the peeling wallpaper. The clock on the wall ticked softly, filling the silence.
She wasn't hungry.
She wasn't tired.
She just… felt empty.
The night stretched on. The city outside never slept, but inside, it was quiet. Too quiet.
Her fingers clutched at the edge of the blanket Ethan always used. She pulled it closer, burying her face into the worn fabric. It still smelled like him, the faint traces of cheap soap and something warm, something safe.
A lump formed in her throat.
She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her forehead against her knees.
She didn't want this.
Didn't want to be alone.
Didn't want to wake up tomorrow and have to pretend that everything was okay.
Didn't want to wait by the door, hoping Ethan would walk through it like he always did, tired but alive, grumbling about the job and ruffling her hair like everything was normal.
But he wasn't coming back.
The truth pressed down on her like a weight, heavy and suffocating.
Tears stung at the edges of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
She forced herself to breathe.
In. Out.
She tried to sleep.
Tossed and turned on the couch, staring at the ceiling.
The city lights outside cast faint orange glows through the window, washing over the walls, but they felt distant—like she was in a different world entirely.
She tried to close her eyes.
Tried not to listen to the silence pressing in around her.
Tried not to think about the fact that the apartment had never felt this empty before.
But the quiet was deafening.
Every small sound felt too loud, too unnatural.
She stayed awake for hours.
Eventually, exhaustion won, and her eyes shut.
And morning came too soon.
Elise woke up stiff and sore, curled awkwardly beneath Ethan's blanket. Her throat was dry, her head aching.
She sat up slowly, blinking against the dull light filtering through the window.
For a moment, she forgot.
For a moment, she expected to hear Ethan's voice in the kitchen, making something terrible for breakfast, grumbling about how she never ate enough.
Then reality crashed back down.
Her stomach twisted.
She rubbed at her face, wiping away the remnants of exhaustion.
The tablet sat on the table, exactly where Sarah had left it. The Feathers Guild logo still glowed softly on the screen.
Elise hesitated.
Then, before she could overthink it, she reached for her phone.
Her fingers hovered over the screen.
She had to do something.
She couldn't stay here, waiting for nothing.
Taking a shaky breath, she scrolled through her contacts and tapped on the name Sarah had entered before she left.
The phone rang once.
Twice.
Then—
"Elise?" Sarah's voice was warm, surprised. "Is everything okay?"
Elise swallowed hard. Her hands were cold, clammy.
"I…" She hesitated, gripping the blanket tighter. Then, forcing the words out before she lost her nerve.
"I want to join the academy."
A pause. Then Sarah's voice softened.
"Alright," she said gently. "I'll come pick you up."