Luci’s growl rolled again.

The girl’s eyes dropped to him, soft with practiced pity. "The beasts feel it more than we do. The pressure at the edges. They’re very sensitive to these types of things."

"They’re very honest," Sera agreed with a nod of her head.

Zubair shifted the chain back through its slot and opened the door another inch. He wanted a better look at the formation on the path.

The four in back held small brass lanterns with glass as clean as their shoes. Fuel sloshed when they moved; old-world kerosene, not the scavenged kind filled with dirt and ash.

Even their hands were uncalloused.

"You walked far," Zubair tested.

"We walk where we are sent," the man replied, eyes steady. "He carries our feet."

"Strange," Elias murmured, gaze on the yard. "He forgot to leave your footprints on the way."

The man and the girl didn’t look down. They didn’t need to. Unmarked dirt told the story anyway.

Sera’s head tipped like she was listening for a second, invisible voice. Not a mystic reach—interest only. "What do you do with people who don’t want a new world."

"We teach them," the girl answered. "Then we give them time."

"How much."

"As much as it takes," the man promised, then added like an afterthought, "Before the dark."

The song behind them changed key. Cheerful became earnest. Words sharpened.

Let the flesh repent,

let the ash be clean,

let the light descend

where the eyes have seen.

Lachlan shivered, a tiny full-body shrug he tried to hide. "Catchy. I can definitely see that being in the top 50."

Alexei’s gaze tracked the treeline. "Left flank, two more," he breathed, almost bored.

Zubair lifted two fingers at waist height—seen, noted, keep still. The girl didn’t try to peer around him. She stared straight at Sera’s face like the rest of the house had faded.

"Will you come when the world turns?" she asked, pure hope and certainty braided together. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in the words she was saying. It was that she seemed to believe in them too much.

Sera looked past her at the bright, endless sky. Not a cloud to be seen. No shade for even a bit of mercy from the never-ending heat of the day.

It was the kind of day that would melt the chocolate she had in her outercoat, so she quickly put it back in her space before it could be ruined. "Maybe," she answered, honest as a knife. "I want to hear what you think He sounds like."

She ignored the looks that the men were giving her, and instead, kept her gaze on the girl in front of her.

So many experiences that she never had before. She never met this type of people before the world ended, her parents always closed the door on them before they could say anything. It was actually... cute... how pushy they were.

For a moment, Sera wondered just how far they were willing to go for their faith.

And would their faith add extra flavor when the creature inside of her was hungy.

The man’s smile widened. "Then you’ll hear."

He tapped the booklet with a knuckle, set it on the porch rail, and tucked a second into the crack of the door as if tucking a note under a lover’s windshield. "We’ll bring enough lanterns for everyone." He inclined his head to Zubair, courtesy perfect. "No one likes to stumble at the threshold."

"Thoughtful," Lachlan muttered.

The girl hugged her binder close and stepped back. "Until the turning," she promised. "I can’t wait to be friends with you forever."

They left with the same absence of sound they’d arrived in. No grit stirred as they walked down the gravel path. No stalks bent as they walked through the cornfield in front of the house.

The hymn they sang followed them down the path and then unspooled into ordinary air.

Zubair slid the chain home and set the lock. He didn’t appear any different, but Sera knew better. She could see the way his fists were clenching and his eyes seemed to glaze over.

He was already coming up with the next three plans on how to deal with the situation in front of them.

Elias picked up the booklet with two fingers and turned it to the sun. The paper didn’t yellow. The ink didn’t glare. "Fresh print," he murmured, his brows furrowing uneasily. "How?"

"Not our concern," Alexei returned, already moving through the rooms to check angles, sight lines, fields of fire that didn’t need to become anything.

Sera leaned her shoulder against the door, listening. "They sounded happy."

"Happy people in the middle of an apocalypse scare me," Lachlan confessed. "Unhappy people you can predict. Happy people try to share."

Zubair studied the lanterns in his memory. Brass shined like polished teeth. "We don’t share," he decided. "Not our doors. Not our names. We watch, and we let them do the talking."

"No violence," Elias added, half-warning, half-request.

"Not unless they bring it," Zubair agreed. "If they do, we end it."

Sera’s mouth curved in a smile she didn’t bother to hold back. "So stern."

"So alive," he returned.

They set the house for company.

The curtains remained pinned closed; they didn’t want the strangers to be able to look into the house.

Lachlan put a pitcher of water near the door with a cheeky wink at Sera. "Just in case they want to light more than their lanterns."

"Doesn’t Alexei control ice?" replied Sera, confused. "And why do they care if they burn this place down? I thought we were here just for the night."

Alexei’s deep chuckle came from the other side of the house. "If I turn them to ice, they might burn me at the stake as a witch. It’s better to use what we have and keep my ice a secret for a better time."

Sera shrugged her shoulders, trusting that they knew more than she did about staying alive in the apocalypse.

After all, the only thing she really knew was how to survive when in a cage.