Peter and Sylvia sat on the top of the basement stairs, knees nearly touching, facing downward into the dark of the basement below. They’d made attempts at climbing onto their appropriated home’s ground level, but even the briefest of glances outdoors had revealed a wasteland too nightmarish for either of them to endure the sight of for long.

  So, the two had passed a few quiet hours deliberating in hushed tones, seated together on the stairs. Beneath them, hidden just around the bend, Shiv’s thrashings and moans punctuated the quiet.

  Peter picked at the skin on his hands, her face sallow and grave. “I worry that she’s absorbing the radiation.”

  “Maybe she’s having her Aura handle it, like we are,” Sylvia said, her tone a feeble imitation of hope. “I can feel her down there, she’s still burning energy somehow. She must be getting it from somewhere, right? The power’s off, so she’s not siphoning not from the wires in the walls or anything.”

  “You think she’s going to break out?”

  “I hope not. I’ll check on her again soon.”

  They let another few wordless moments pass between them, let their anxiety stew in the stale air. Outside, an unnatural wind was whipping through the streets, laden with airborne debris that made played drumbeats on their house’s walls.

  “What are we going to do about her?” Sylvia said, voice barely above a whisper. “I- I don’t- There’s nothing left outside. Who do we go to about this?”

  “Phoenix is still alive,” Peter intoned. “He’s nearby. I can still feel him. Barely.”

  “So, what, we find him? We kill him?” Sylvia studied Peter’s face. “Do you think we stand any chance?”

  “No. No, he’d flatten us.” Peter cocked his head, thinking. “The knight might still be around.”

  “The knight?”

  “There was a man, in, like, old-timey armor. At a Denny’s. He’s the one who freed me from Phoenix in the first place. He had this knife, it… I don’t know how to explain how he did it, but he sort of cut my connection to him with it. Severed it. Maybe we find him?”

  “What are the odds he survived?” Sylvia glanced back over her shoulder, through the crack in the basement door. “Where would we even look?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

  “What, do we just try every fast casual breakfast chain in the Twin Cities until we find a lead?”

  “I just said I don’t know.”

  “I need something to do, Peter.” Sylvia’s hands were shaking. “I need to take action. I can’t just stay here listening to- Listening to that.”

  Downstairs, Shiv’s moaning had resolved into something like a series of barks. Something hard was banging against the floor, rhythmically. Sylvia slapped her cheeks, hard enough to redden her face. Her eyes were brimming with tears. “I can’t take much more of this. I think I’m losing my mind.”

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  “I know the feeling.” Peter picked at a scab on his hand. The ghost of a memory played in the back of his mind as he did so (Pete let it go, it’s a nasty habit. You’ll just re-open the damn thing, and I don’t want you bleeding all over the new couch. Siobhan, tell your brother to-). The memories were coming back slightly clearer for him, lately. He was placing words, recalling terms, regaining old habits. He welcomed the change, but every new recollection of his sister was making her current state all the more excruciating to behold. “But you can’t just leave.”

  “I sure as shit can’t just stay-“

  “We should wait another day, at least. What if-“

  “A day?!”

  “What if another bomb drops? We only survived the first because we got lucky-“

  “No. No, I can’t be here another day. I-“

  “Sylvia, please, sit down-“

  “Let go! Let go of me. I’m going out-“

  “Just listen to me. You’re not-“

  “I’m going to look for that knight. That’s a lead, that’s something we can-“

  “Sylvia, don’t make me use- use force-“

  “Don’t you fucking threaten me. I’ll knock you the fuck out-“

  “Just listen. Just calm down and listen-“

  “Don’t you TELL ME to-“

  Knock knock.

  Sylvia and Peter paused, the latter’s hands still clamped on the former’s wriggling shoulders. Their gazes snapped to the front door, where the knocking had come from.

  Knock knock.

  “I don’t think we should-“ Peter began. With a little bump of kinetic energy from her Aura, Sylvia wrenched herself free from his grip and darted upstairs, toward the door. Peter hissed a curse and followed her.

  Sylvia hesitated, then touched the door gingerly, hands splayed. She paused, cocked her head. “It’s an old man,” she whispered. “Unarmed.”

  “Is he Blessed?”

  “What?”

  “Is he- Like us?”

  “Uh, yeah. Yes. Whoa, very. He’s got the biggest Aura I’ve-“

  “I can hear you two whispering.” The voice on the other side of the door had an amused tinge to it, almost jolly. The echo of his words hung in the air for a tense moment, then the man outside shifted and cleared his throat. “I assure you, I’m nobody to be afraid of. I’m here out of, er, neighborly concern. I know about your current predicament, Sylvia, Peter. I know about Siobhan.”

  Shiv shot a perplexed look toward, Peter, who shrugged. The man outside continued.

  “I’d just like to inform you that your beloved friend is, unfortunately, acting as something of a beacon right now. Her, er, exertions, they’re very detectable, likely to attract attention. If you’d like to bring her somewhere safe, I would be happy to lend some makeshift hospitality to you three, and to lend my power to warding off those who might want to make an easy meal of you, if you’ll pardon the imagery.”

  Sylvia shivered and stepped back, creeping closer to Peter. Their attention remained locked on the closed door.

  “I completely understand if you’re too wary to come and talk to me face-to-face. The events of the day have been deeply troubling for us all, to say the least, and it’s understandable that you’re shaken. I just thought I would let you know, and extend my humble offer while I still had the chance. If you’d like to find me, I’m setting up this refuge of sorts at the Woodbury Hilton hotel, just a few miles east of here. There are two others, gifted like us, already staying, and I trust you’ll find them good company in this otherwise bleak time.” The old man paused, cleared his throat again. “That’s all. My name is Pema. I am trying to help.”

  The floorboards on the ruined porch outside creaked as the man tensed to leave, and Sylvia suddenly darted forward and threw the door open. “Have you seen a knight?!”

  The man outside was short, completely bald, wrapped in what looked like robes. When he smiled up at her, his eyes glinted with a sharpness that read as eerily young, despite their wreathing of laugh lines and wrinkles. “A knight? Yes, in fact. He’s quite a hard one to miss.”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “I could find him.”

  “Can you take us to him? He could-“

  “Cure Siobhan? Quite possibly, quite possibly. His dirk certainly did the job before.” The old man glanced up at Peter as he appeared in the doorway behind Sylvia. Then his smile quirked at the edges as he seemed to hesitate. “Upon reflection, though, it may not be wisest for me to make my presence known to him. Were we to meet, I believe he would leap at the chance to try and kill me.”

  “He didn’t try to kill me,” Peter said, quietly. Sylvia shot him a sideways glance. “He doesn’t seem to be interested in it, unless you’re strong.”

  “Unfortunately for us, I think I might fit that description.” Pema smiled, scratched his bald pate bashfully. “I’m something of a-“

  “Demigod,” Sylvia breathed. “Oh holy shit. I’ve never met one of you in person.”

  “I’m quite flattered.” Pema shot a glance past them, toward the basement. “The more I think of the knight, actually, the more I realize that our staying in one place, so close to your, er, effervescent friend, may be unwise. Perhaps I should be on my way. My offer stands, of course.”

  “If we come, will you help us find him? The knight?” Sylvia was breathless, agitated. She kept glancing between Pema and the basement stairs.

  “No. Well- maybe. Yes?” Pema was shifting from foot to foot now. “Now that you mention it, maybe that would be best. It could be enough of an advantage to keep me alive, were we to find him before he, you know. Finds-“

  Peter barely registered a faraway sound then, almost imperceptible against the whipping of the wind. A metallic click-slip-side, the sound of steel pulling from leather. An unsheathing.

  Pema reacted quicker than he did, managing to take a step away, extending one hand to blow both Sylvia and Peter back several feet. As Pema fell backward, a ripple of energy, razor-thin and impossibly potent, tore through the space where Pema had been standing, cutting his extended arm off at the elbow. Blood gouted from the wound in spurts, spattering the blackened wood around the doorframe.

  “Before he finds us,” Pema finished with a sigh. “You two may want to take cover.”