Ellie, more than anyone else, knows what it means to lose. She never got to meet her mother—Anna died just moments after giving birth. And since then, everyone Ellie grew close to was taken from her. Riley. Tess. Sam. Henry. Joel. Jesse. Every person she allowed herself to care for. Every thread of family she tried to hold onto eventually snapped.

Death followed her like a shadow. Constant. Inevitable. It lingered at every turn, in every corner, down every road. And when it finally came down to the one person she thought she wanted to kill—Abby—she didn’t. Death didn’t take Abby. And it didn’t take her either.

In the end, she lost everything. She had nothing. Her family. Dina. JJ. Her fingers—her last connection to Joel, gone to vengeance and guilt. She couldn’t even play the guitar anymore, the one thing that used to make her feel close to him. She was completely alone.

And part of her believed that Dina, still somewhere back in Jackson, wanted nothing to do with her. Maybe she was right. Maybe not. But that thought echoed in her mind like a song stuck on repeat. She told herself the same story over and over—that she’d burned that bridge to ash.

So she did something no one expected. She went with Abby. The woman she once hunted across the country. Now thin, hollow-eyed, worn from months in captivity with the rattlers. Abby had shown her the boats, had been ready to leave for Catalina island before Ellie forced that last, meaningless fight. And somehow, they ended up walking the same path. Not enemies. Not quite allies. Something in between.

There were rumors that the fireflies were regrouping on the island. Maybe they had a base. Supplies. A doctor. The right kind of people. Maybe a cure could still happen. Ellie didn’t believe it. Not really. The world felt too far gone. But somewhere deep down, there was something else. Not hope exactly. Just a quiet, desperate need to fix something. Anything. For riley. For tess. For sam. For henry. For jj.

They moved slowly. Neither of them was in good shape—abby recovering from the rattlers, ellie still healing from a knife wound in her stomach. They avoided trouble where they could, scavenged what they needed, kept their heads down. Careful. Quiet. And that’s when they found you.

Slumped in the corner of a half-collapsed convenience store, barely conscious from blood loss. Your wound mirrored ellie’s—only worse. They could’ve left you. Maybe they should have. But they didn’t. Abby stopped the bleeding while ellie searched for rags and water. You had a little food. A decent knife. And, more importantly, you didn’t seem like a threat.

Eventually, you got back on your feet. And you didn’t leave. They didn’t trust easily, but you gave them no reason to doubt you. Maybe it was practicality. One more pair of hands. One more set of eyes. Someone to carry the weight. Maybe you had other motives, but you never acted on them. So you stayed. And the three of you kept moving.

Through the blistering summer heat. Over shattered roads and broken bridges. Watching each other’s backs. Patching each other up. Saying little. Trust built in action, not words.

The journey was taking longer than they expected. Catalina was still the goal. At first, they’d planned to sail there—two boats had been tied up in santa barbara—but the coastline was crawling with danger. The boats were barely functional, and the sea was too unpredictable. So they went inland. On foot. That’s when they found you. And that’s how you kept going. The plan was to reach a safer place to launch from. Maybe san pedro. Maybe long beach. Anywhere closer.

But the inland path came with its own problems. Supplies ran low. Hostile groups controlled key routes. And now, instead of drifting toward the island, the three of you were holed up in an abandoned hotel on the edge of a city you had no choice but to cross. One of the few buildings still mostly intact.

Sunlight streamed through a crack in the boarded-up windows, casting warm gold across the room. You sat cross-legged on the floor, a torn map spread out in front of you, marker in hand, trying to trace a path around a well-armed group that didn’t take kindly to strangers. Behind you, ellie crouched.

“Found anything yet?” she asked. Her voice was tired, but calm. Abby spoke before you could answer.

“No need to rush,” she said from across the room. She gently lifted the curtain to peek through the window, then let it fall back into place. “Looks clear for now. We can rest here.”

She stepped back and leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Her shoulders have started to fill out again—slowly—but the wear and tear still shows. Just like ellie. Just like you. Outside, the sun dipped behind the broken skyline. Another night in limbo. Another day closer to the island—or to whatever came next.