The fight happened at night, in voices too low to wake the others.
Gray had found Elias at the western window, a narrow opening that looked out over the ruined street beyond. The moon had risen three hours ago, casting silver light across the debris, and Elias stood in it like a man posing for a portrait he would never see. His posture was perfect, his hands clasped behind his back, his profile sharp against the broken glass.
"You should be sleeping," Elias said without turning.
"So should you."
"I will. Soon." A pause, weighted with intention. "I've been thinking."
Gray moved to stand beside him, his shoulder against the wall, his eyes tracking the same empty street. "About what?"
"About what comes next."
The words settled between them, simple and dangerous. Gray felt the familiar tension in his chest, the instinct that told him this conversation would not end well.
"We have shelter," Elias continued, his voice calm, measured. "We have supplies. We have people who can contribute, who can build. This could be more than a hiding spot. It could be a foundation."
"For what?"
"A community. A real one." Elias turned to face him, his blue-gray eyes catching the moonlight. "There are survivors out there, Gray. Dozens, maybe hundreds, scattered across the city. Hiding. Starving. Waiting for someone to tell them it's safe to hope again."
"And you want to be that someone."
"I want us to be that someone. All of us." His voice softened, took on the quality of a reasonable man making a reasonable argument. "We have the space. We have the skills. Mina can heal, you can sense danger, I can organize. We could bring people in, give them shelter, build something that lasts."
Gray's jaw tightened. "You're talking about expansion."
"I'm talking about survival. Real survival, not just hiding in a warehouse and hoping the world forgets we exist."
"The scavenger said groups make noise. She said hollows can sense us."
"The scavenger was afraid. Fear makes people see threats everywhere." Elias's tone remained patient, as if explaining something obvious to a child. "We've dealt with hollows before. We can deal with them again. But we can't hide forever. Eventually, we'll run out of supplies. Eventually, someone will get sick or injured beyond what Mina can handle. And then what? We die alone in this warehouse, and no one even knows we existed?"
"That's not the point."
"Then what is the point?" Elias stepped closer, his voice dropping lower. "Tell me what you're actually afraid of, and we can address it. But don't tell me we should stay small because of some warning from a stranger who ran away."
The words struck harder than they should have. Gray felt his hands curl into fists at his sides, felt the pressure behind his eyes spike with the emotion he was trying to contain.
"I'm afraid," he said, his voice rough, "that we don't understand enough yet. That we're making decisions based on assumptions, not knowledge. That we'll bring people here, promise them safety, and then watch them die because we didn't know what we were doing."
"We'll learn as we go. That's what survival is."
"Survival is not gambling with other people's lives."
Elias's expression hardened, something cold surfacing behind his eyes. "And hiding is? Because that's what you're proposing. Stay small, stay quiet, stay afraid. Hope that if we're careful enough, the world will leave us alone."
"I'm not saying we hide forever. I'm saying we learn first. We figure out what's out there, what the rules are, why the hollows exist, why some of us can do things others can't. We build a foundation of knowledge before we start building a community on top of it."
"Knowledge takes time. People are dying now."
"And more will die if we move too fast."
They stood in silence, the moonlight falling between them like a blade. Gray could see the calculation in Elias's eyes, the way he was weighing arguments, searching for the angle that would win. But there was no winning here. Only two different visions of survival, incompatible and unyielding.
"You're afraid," Elias said finally, his voice quiet but not gentle. "Not of the hollows, not of the predators. You're afraid of responsibility. Of being the one who makes the call that gets someone killed."
The words hit like a physical blow. Gray felt his breath catch, felt the truth of them resonate in his chest even as his mind rejected them.
"That's not—"
"It is." Elias stepped back, creating distance between them. "I've watched you, Gray. You use your sight to protect people, but you won't lead them. You see the patterns, but you won't make decisions based on them. You'd rather carry the weight alone than risk being wrong in front of anyone else."
"And you'd rather make decisions for everyone than admit you don't have all the answers."
Elias's jaw tightened. For a moment, something flickered in his expression, a crack in the composed facade. Then it was gone, smoothed away into the calm mask he wore so well.
"I'm going to bring people here," he said. "Not tomorrow, not all at once. But I'm going to start looking, start building. If you want to help, I'd welcome it. If you want to stay in your corner and watch for threats, that's fine too. But I won't let fear stop me from doing what needs to be done."
He turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing across the concrete floor until they faded into the shadows near the sleeping area. Gray stood alone at the window, the moonlight cold on his face, the silence pressing in from all sides.
The argument was over. Nothing had been resolved.
He stayed at the window for a long time, watching the empty street, seeing the threads of light move through the ruins in patterns he still couldn't fully read. The pressure behind his eyes had become a steady throb, a reminder of how much he'd been using his sight lately, how much it was costing him.
Footsteps approached from behind, soft and unhurried. He didn't turn, but he knew who it was before she spoke.
"You're still awake."
Mina's voice was gentle, carrying no judgment. She moved to stand beside him, not touching, just present. Her presence was a warmth in the cold air, a reminder that he wasn't alone even when he felt most isolated.
"I heard voices," she said. "Low ones. Angry ones."
"It was nothing."
"It didn't sound like nothing."
Gray turned to look at her, seeing the concern in her hazel eyes, the way her hands were clasped in front of her as if holding something fragile. She'd been sleeping, he realized. She'd kept her promise, had actually rested, and he'd woken her with his argument.
"Elias wants to expand," he said. "Bring in more survivors, build a community. I told him it was too dangerous."
"Is it?"
"I don't know. That's the problem." He turned back to the window, his reflection ghostly in the broken glass. "He thinks I'm afraid of responsibility. Maybe he's right."
Mina was quiet for a moment. Then she moved closer, her shoulder brushing against his arm.
"You're not afraid of responsibility," she said. "You're afraid of failing the people who depend on you. That's not the same thing."
"How do you know?"
"Because I feel it too." Her voice dropped, became something private. "Every time I heal someone, I wonder if I'm making it worse. Every time I rest, I wonder if someone is suffering while I sleep. The fear doesn't mean we're wrong to be careful. It means we care."
Gray felt something loosen in his chest, a knot he hadn't realized was there. He looked at Mina, really looked at her, and saw the same exhaustion he'd seen earlier, the same shadows under her eyes. But he also saw something else. Strength. The kind that came from choosing to care even when caring hurt.
"I don't know what to do," he admitted.
"You don't have to know tonight." She reached out, her fingers finding his in the darkness. "Sleep. We'll figure it out together."
He let her lead him away from the window, away from the moonlight and the argument and the weight of decisions he wasn't ready to make. The warehouse breathed around them, stable and strange, and for now, that was enough.