Frozen Flame of Dawn-Chapter 134 - 64: Beyond the Known_1

Though his mind stirred with questions—about Amira's mysterious "source," her strange awareness of future outcomes, and especially about the truth buried inside his dreams—he kept them buried for now. He could sense that she wasn't withholding out of distrust, but out of necessity.

And she had already said it: Not yet. But soon.

They walked the last stretch of the courtyard together in silence, the soft crunch of gravel beneath their boots the only sound between them. When they reached the steps of the mansion, Amira turned to him briefly—just a glance, a pause that lingered longer than a moment. Then, without a word, she turned and disappeared behind the heavy wooden door of the mayor's house, her silhouette fading into the glow of the hallway light inside.

Aiden stood there for a few seconds, hands buried in his jacket pockets, the cool air brushing past him. He stared at the door even after it had shut.

Then he let out a low sigh, more breath than sound, and turned away, walking back down the empty road lit silver by moonlight.

The town was hushed, still. A gentle breeze stirred the leaves of a tree overhead as he made his way through the quiet streets toward the small house he now called home—modest, tucked between two old stone buildings that had clearly stood here long before the surge.

As he pushed the door open, a soft hum of music met him—something old and jazzy, crackling slightly from a salvaged speaker in the corner. The warm glow of the lamp washed over Tommy, who was sprawled lazily on the couch, a book half-open on his stomach and a self-satisfied grin already forming as he looked up.

"Well, well," Tommy said, closing the book and stretching. "How was your midnight stroll with the mysterious Lady Amira? Did you two exchange meaningful silences under the stars?"

Aiden gave him a dry look, kicked his boots off, and dropped onto the opposite couch with a tired sigh. "It wasn't like that."

Tommy raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "You sure? Because that's exactly the kind of line that makes it sound like it was like that."

"We talked," Aiden said simply. He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling for a moment before continuing. "I told her about the dreams… about Manas and Billy. About how some of the things I see in those dreams end up becoming real."

Tommy sat up straighter, his teasing tone fading slightly. "You never said they came true."

"Not exactly," Aiden replied, eyes still fixed upward. "But close enough to feel like I failed."

Tommy was quiet for a beat. Then, his voice returned with a smirk. "So you walked with her to get advice about your dreams? Really, man? You could've asked me. I'm an excellent listener. And I never make fun of people's emotional trauma."

"You mock everything," Aiden muttered.

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"I mock you specifically. That's love."

Aiden cracked a small smile but didn't bite.

Tommy tilted his head. "Alright, so what did she say? Was her advice any different than mine? Or was it just the moonlight making it sound deeper?"

Aiden took a breath, letting the silence stretch a bit. "Her perspective is... different. Very different."

He sat up finally, his expression more focused now. "She didn't dismiss the dreams. Didn't brush them off as stress or trauma. She said the things I'm seeing might be alternate outcomes. Futures that could have happened—would have happened—if she hadn't changed things."

Tommy blinked. "Wait. So the rumors are true? That she knows what's going to happen?"

"That's what it looks like," Aiden said. "Or at least... she knows enough."

Tommy dropped the book off his lap, jumped up from the couch, and sat beside Aiden in one smooth motion, eyes wide. "Hold up—what? You're telling me she knows the future? Like, really knows it? Did she say anything about me? Like, do I survive all this? Am I handsome and rich in the end?"

Aiden chuckled under his breath, rubbing a hand over his face. "I didn't ask her about the future. Not for you, not for me. And I'm not going to unless she offers to tell me herself."

Tommy slumped. "Coward."

"But," Aiden continued, "she said something that stuck with me. She believes that my dreams—these fragments—are echoes of what could have happened, had she not interfered by releasing that broadcast. You remember—the one that changed everything overnight."

Tommy nodded slowly. "Yeah... the one that started the fall of half the Federation bases."

"She believes that those visions I'm getting... they're like glimpses of a road not taken," Aiden said. "A timeline she steered us away from."

Tommy leaned back, his expression thoughtful now. "Okay, that's… actually kind of insane. But how does she know? I mean, how can she be sure that it was her decision that made the difference? Or that your dreams are anything more than instinct? A warning, maybe. Gut feeling, like we all get before a fight?"

Aiden shrugged. "I don't know. But the way she said it—the certainty in her voice—it didn't sound like someone guessing. It sounded like someone who knew. Someone who had already seen it all unfold."

Tommy was quiet again, nodding slowly. "Damn…"

"She also said the dreams might not be fully true. But that they're worth paying attention to. That I should treat them like warnings. Take precautions. That was her advice."

Tommy smirked slightly. "Not bad advice."

"No," Aiden said, a little distant now. "It's not."

The music in the background shifted to a softer tune, slower and deeper. Outside, the wind whispered faintly through the trees, and the glow of the moon still spilled across the town.

Tommy stood up, stretching. "Well. I guess we're all living in borrowed timelines now, huh?"

Aiden didn't answer. Just sat there, quietly watching the shadows stretch across the floor—his thoughts still lingering back on the path, the moonlight, and the quiet gravity of the woman who walked beside him in the dark.

*************

The morning sun cracked open across the horizon like golden ink spilling onto a blank page. Its warmth hadn't reached the ground yet—the roads still held onto the bite of night's chill, dew clinging to their surface like thin frost. Overhead, a few birds chirped lazily from the rooftops, cutting through the quiet with soft, cheerful notes.

The occasional clang of metal against metal echoed across the northern sector of the stronghold, sharp and rhythmic. Life was waking up—armor being strapped on, crates being locked down, boots striking stone, voices carrying in clipped military tones. It was the kind of organized chaos that came right before a mission: controlled, purposeful, buzzing just beneath the surface.

Aiden stood near the outer north gate, shoulders squared as he scanned a stack of documents in one hand, while his other wrist bore the strapped-on comm device. His forearms were bare despite the chill, sleeves rolled up high. Fog still curled faintly with each of his slow exhales, but he didn't seem to notice. His eyes flicked between the list and the gathered squads, as if weighing both the gear... and the sky itself.

He tilted his head briefly, scanning the clouds—low and slow, but not heavy. No rain, at least not today.

Behind him, the stronghold's courtyard pulsed with life. Soldiers moved in formation, loading supplies, checking their weapons, double-knotting gear, securing shoulder pads and gauntlets. A few were off to the side, going through hand-to-hand drills, grunting softly as they slammed against the training mats.

This was it. The first real push—the first phase of their recon mission.

"Morning feels more dramatic when you've got heavy-duty gear involved, doesn't it?" came a voice behind him.

Aiden didn't look up. He already knew the voice.

Tommy ambled over, a half-eaten apple in one hand, squinting up into the sky like it had personally offended him.

"They feel more dramatic when your mouth's shut," Aiden muttered, eyes still on the checklist.

Tommy snorted. "Brooding leader energy. Classic."

Aiden finally glanced at him and handed over a smaller clipboard, crisp and detailed.

"If you're so free," he said dryly, "you can stop being a nuisance and start assembling the construction team. Builders, architects, logistics people—everyone who'll be helping us survey and build that bunker. Double-check their tools, gear, and—"

Tommy groaned loudly.

"—and make sure we're over-supplied," Aiden continued, ignoring him. "I don't want to find out halfway through the build that someone forgot concrete mix or support braces."

Tommy stared at the clipboard like it had personally betrayed him. "You do know I was trying to enjoy the sunrise, right? You couldn't have given this to someone less charming?"

Aiden didn't even blink. "It's important. Get it done. And don't miss anything."

Tommy sighed and gave a theatrical salute. "Fine. You really know how to kill a moment."

He spun on his heel, calling out to a younger recruit just finishing up his gear adjustments.

"Hey, you!" Tommy barked. "Yeah, pretty boy with the shin guards. You're coming with me. We've got work to do. Unless you'd rather stay here and let our brooding Captain teach you hand-to-hand until your bones ache."

The poor kid didn't even get a word in before Tommy clapped a firm hand on his shoulder and started dragging him off across the yard, muttering about supply lists and the tragedy of responsibility.