Key Story (2) - Chapter 7
The city felt like an endless maze, stretching out before them in cruel silence. Every shadow was a false hope, every corner another dead end. Raxian's steps had grown heavier, his muscles aching, exhaustion gnawing at him, but he refused to stop. He couldn't stop—not while Sable was still missing. The cool night air bit at his skin, but the cold inside him was far worse.
Fayne walked slightly ahead, her expression tense but controlled, the beam of her flashlight cutting through the darkness. She had been by his side all night, offering quiet reassurances, trying to keep him grounded, but nothing felt right. Nothing was enough.
The memory of Sable's voice, raw and trembling, echoed in his mind: "I'm just here. Waiting for you to remember I exist."
Her words dug deeper every time he replayed them. He hadn't realized how far things had gone, how distant they had become. And now, with her gone, it felt like his world was unraveling piece by piece.
His jaw clenched. Fayne's presence beside him, once a source of comfort, now seemed to gnaw at him in a way he couldn't explain. He wasn't thinking straight anymore. Guilt twisted into frustration, and frustration curdled into anger—an anger that wasn't just directed at himself.
They rounded another corner, scanning the empty street, but it was like Sable had disappeared off the face of the earth. The panic inside him grew, an urgent, suffocating force. And suddenly, the silence between him and Fayne became too much to bear.
He stopped abruptly, his breathing ragged. "Is that all you have to say, Fayne?" His voice was sharper than he intended, but the words came out before he could stop them. "We'll find her? That's it?"
Fayne froze, turning to face him, the beam of her flashlight flickering as it lowered. She blinked at him, her eyes wide with surprise, but her expression remained composed. "Raxian…" she began softly, her voice measured. "I know you're upset, but we're both doing everything we can. We just—"
"Everything we can?" Raxian cut her off, his tone bitter. The frustration surged inside him like a tidal wave, too strong to control. "We've been running around all night, and we're nowhere closer to finding her! You think this is enough?" His voice cracked with the weight of his emotions.
Fayne's eyes softened, and she took a careful step toward him, her tone steady but carrying an edge of quiet concern. "I know this is hard, but yelling at me won't help. We're doing our best—both of us."
But her calmness only made the knot in his chest tighten. "Yeah?" Raxian snapped, his voice rising. "Well, maybe if you weren't always around, I would've seen what was happening with Sable earlier! Maybe I wouldn't have let things get so messed up!"
Fayne flinched, the words hitting her like a physical blow, but she didn't lash out. Instead, she drew in a slow breath, her fingers tightening around the flashlight. Her voice, when she spoke again, was softer—quieter. "Raxian, what are you saying?" There was a note of disbelief, tinged with hurt, in her words. "You really think this is because of me?"
Raxian hesitated, the guilt already rising to his throat. "I don't know," he muttered, looking away. "Maybe... Maybe if I hadn't been spending so much time with you, I would've noticed how much she was hurting."
Fayne's face tightened, her usual calm cracking ever so slightly. "So now it's my fault that you and Sable drifted apart?" Her voice remained controlled, but there was a tremor beneath it—something she was struggling to keep in check. "Rax, I've only been trying to help you. I didn't ask to come between you two."
He clenched his fists, the weight of his own guilt pressing down on him like a vise. "It's not like that, Fayne. I just... I wasn't paying attention." His voice wavered. "And now she's gone, and I don't know if she'll ever come back."
Fayne's shoulders sagged, the tension between them palpable in the cool night air. She took a step back, her gaze dropping to the ground as the weight of his words settled in. When she looked up again, her eyes were filled with something deeper—something that went beyond frustration. There was hurt there, real and unspoken, and for the first time, Raxian saw it clearly.
"Do you even hear yourself?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've been here with you this whole time, trying to help you, to support you, and now you're blaming me?" She shook her head, her calm exterior starting to crack under the strain. "I know Sable means a lot to you, but you're forgetting that I'm here too."
Raxian felt the air leave his lungs, the anger draining out of him as quickly as it had surged. He hadn't meant to lash out like that, hadn't meant to hurt her. But now, seeing the pain in her eyes, he realized just how badly he'd messed up.
"Fayne, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—" His voice faltered, and he swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. "I don't blame you. I'm just... scared. I don't know what to do anymore."
Fayne exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders easing, though the hurt still lingered in her eyes. She studied him for a long moment before speaking again, her voice soft but firm. "I get that you're scared. We all are. But don't push me away, Raxian. Not when I'm the one standing here with you."
Her words hit him harder than he expected, cutting through the fog of his frustration. He hadn't realized how much he had been leaning on Fayne, how much he had come to rely on her quiet presence. And now, faced with the possibility of losing not just Sable, but Fayne as well, the thought terrified him.
"I'm sorry," he repeated, his voice low, filled with regret. "I shouldn't have said that."
Fayne nodded, her expression softening slightly, though the hurt was still there, beneath the surface. "We're in this together," she said quietly, her eyes searching his. "But you have to stop shutting people out."
Raxian nodded, the weight of his guilt pressing heavily on his chest. "I know." He took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging as the tension slowly ebbed away. "Let's keep looking. We'll find her."
Fayne offered a small, tentative nod. The air between them was still thick with unspoken emotions, but at least the storm had passed. They weren't falling apart—not yet.
As they turned back to the dark streets, the silence that followed wasn't as suffocating. There was still hope, however faint, that they could find Sable. That they could make things right.
But for now, all they had was each other.
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The cool night air had started to bite at their skin, the chill more palpable now after the heated exchange. Raxian walked slightly ahead of Fayne, his hands deep in his pockets, the weight of their conversation still hanging between them. Fayne stayed a few steps behind, the beam of her flashlight swinging in rhythm with her steps, cutting through the shadows ahead. Neither of them spoke, both lost in their own thoughts as they continued searching, the silence no longer heavy with tension but with uncertainty.
But then, the faint echo of running footsteps reached their ears.
Raxian's head snapped up, his body tensing instinctively. He turned, searching the dimly lit street for the source. Fayne stopped, her grip tightening around the flashlight as she looked over her shoulder.
Out of the darkness, a figure emerged, panting heavily as he jogged toward them. Raxian squinted, his pulse quickening, until the familiar shape came into view. His heart slowed just slightly.
It was Raze.
"Rax! Fayne!" Raze's voice rang out, breathless, as he slowed to a stop in front of them. He bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. "I've been looking for you guys everywhere."
Raxian stepped toward him, a mixture of relief and confusion crossing his face. "Raze, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be checking the north side of town."
Raze straightened up, his face still flushed from running, but his expression serious. "I was. But I didn't find anything there. I thought maybe we'd missed something here, so I doubled back. Figured you might need backup."
Fayne let out a small breath of relief. "We've been out here for hours. No sign of her."
Raze ran a hand through his hair, his gaze flicking between the two of them. He could sense the tension lingering in the air—he always had a way of picking up on things like that—but he didn't comment on it. Instead, he focused on the task at hand. "Yeah, I figured as much. This whole place feels like a dead end. But we can't give up yet."
Raxian nodded, though the exhaustion in his eyes was impossible to miss. "We won't," he muttered, though his voice lacked the confidence he once had. He cast a glance at Fayne, who met his gaze with a quiet understanding. They had their differences, but right now, they were all on the same side.
Raze sighed, his usual light-hearted demeanor absent. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, his brow furrowed with concern. "This isn't like her, you know? Sable's always been tough, but... something feels off about this. She wouldn't just disappear."
Raxian clenched his jaw. "I know. That's why we have to find her."
Fayne stepped forward, her voice soft but determined. "We'll find her. We just need to cover more ground."
Raze gave a small nod, the tension in his posture easing slightly. "Alright, then. We stick together for now. Three pairs of eyes are better than two."
Raxian and Fayne exchanged a brief glance, the weight of their earlier argument still heavy but now overshadowed by the urgency of the situation.
"Yeah," Raxian finally said, his voice low but resolute. "Let's keep going."
And with that, the three of them set off again, the city looming around them in the cold, unforgiving night. The silence between them was no longer filled with tension or anger—it was filled with a shared determination. They weren't giving up. Not yet.
But as they moved deeper into the maze of streets, the feeling of time slipping through their fingers gnawed at each of them. The search wasn't over, and none of them could shake the growing fear that it might already be too late.
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Fayne stared at her phone screen, her thumb hovering over Milo's name. The darkness of the early morning pressed in around her, and the weight of her decision settled heavily in her chest. After searching with Raxian all night, after feeling his anger, frustration, and guilt, Fayne knew they needed help—someone who could offer a new perspective. Milo was the obvious choice.
But reaching out to him felt more complicated than it should have. She hadn't forgotten their last conversation, the tension that lingered in the air between them ever since. Milo had always been there, steadfast and reliable, but there was a part of him that never quite fit with the dynamic between her and Raxian. A quiet resentment had grown in him over time, something she couldn't ignore now.
She inhaled deeply, pressing the call button before she could second-guess herself again. The phone rang twice before Milo picked up.
"Milo," she began, her voice already carrying the weight of the night. "I need your help."
A pause. She could almost hear the surprise on the other end of the line before Milo responded, his voice clipped, but not cold.
"What's going on?"
Fayne swallowed, feeling the awkwardness creep in. "It's Sable. She's missing."
Another beat of silence. Then, Milo's voice shifted, taking on a tone of concern but also something else—something laced with a quiet bitterness.
"Missing? And I'm just finding out now?"
Fayne closed her eyes, guilt washing over her. She had expected this. "I'm sorry, Milo. We've been out all night looking for her. I didn't think—" She paused, shaking her head. "I didn't know who else to turn to."
The line was silent for a moment longer than she liked. Milo's reply, when it came, was calm, but there was an edge to it. "Right. When things get messy, that's when you call me."
Fayne winced, the weight of his words hitting harder than expected. She had been here before with Milo—had felt that quiet resentment in his voice, the sense that he always played second to Raxian in her life. And here she was, doing it again.
"Milo," she started, softer now, "this isn't about that. It's… it's serious. Sable hasn't come home, and we don't know where she is."
There was a sigh on the other end, followed by the rustle of movement as if Milo were shifting in his seat. "I get it," he said finally, his tone more resigned now. "I'll help. But you should've told me sooner, Fayne."
"I know," she murmured, running a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them felt heavy with unsaid things—things that had been lingering since that winter conversation, the hurt that Milo had carried quietly. But even now, he was stepping up, as he always did.
"Milo," she said quietly, hesitating before continuing, "I didn't mean to leave you out. I didn't—" She stopped, unsure of how to put it into words. She wasn't sure how to explain that she hadn't wanted to make things worse between them.
"It's fine," Milo cut in, though his tone made it clear it wasn't. "Look, let's focus on finding Sable. We can deal with the rest later."
Fayne nodded, even though he couldn't see it. "Right. Have you noticed anything off with Zenith's team? Anything that could help?"
Milo was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was more focused, all traces of personal tension pushed aside. "Yeah, actually. I've been keeping an eye on them. Something's been off with Lynx. I'll do some digging."
"Thank you, Milo," Fayne said, her voice soft with genuine relief.
"Just… don't leave me out again, Fayne," Milo replied, and though his tone was steady, she could hear the vulnerability beneath it. "I hate feeling like I'm the last to know."
She wanted to say more, wanted to tell him that she hadn't meant to, that she still cared about him more than he realized, but there wasn't time for that. Not now.
"I won't," she promised, her voice barely a whisper.
The call ended, and as Fayne put her phone down, the familiar sense of unease settled over her again. Milo was right—she had left him out, and she wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because, deep down, she knew Milo's feelings for her complicated things in ways she wasn't ready to face. Or maybe it was because, despite everything, a part of her still didn't want to pull him into her and Raxian's tangled mess.
She sighed, standing up from the bench, her heart heavy with conflicting emotions. One thing was clear—they needed to find Sable. And Milo was already piecing together more than they had managed all night.
As Fayne made her way back toward Raxian and Raze, she pushed aside her personal doubts. For now, she would focus on the search. But later? Later, she'd have to face everything she had been avoiding—her feelings for Milo, the growing tension between her and Raxian, and the realization that she couldn't keep running from her own heart.
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Raxian pushed open the door to his apartment, the familiar creak louder in the stillness of the early morning. He expected the house to be quiet, empty of everything except the weight of his thoughts. But as soon as he stepped inside, he saw a faint light glowing from the living room. His heart sank a little, already knowing what that meant.
His mom was still up.
He sighed, dragging his feet toward the light. When he rounded the corner, he saw her sitting at the couch, a mug of tea cradled in her hands, the soft glow of the tv monitor keeping her awake. She looked up the second she heard his footsteps, her eyes rimmed with exhaustion and worry, though she tried to smile when she saw him.
"Rax," she said softly, relief flooding her voice. "I'm so glad you're home."
She stood up quickly, walking over to him, her arms wrapping around him in a tight embrace. Raxian froze for a moment before gently hugging her back. He felt her trembling slightly, and it hit him just how much his mom had been worrying, how much she had been carrying. She hadn't been able to join the search, not physically, but she had been here, waiting, keeping herself awake, terrified for both Sable and her son.
"You've been out all night," she said, her voice thick with concern. "I was worried sick about you."
Raxian swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at him again. He didn't want to worry her any more than she already was, but there was no escaping it. "I'm fine, Mom. Just… exhausted."
She pulled back slightly, her eyes scanning his face. "You don't look fine, sweetheart. You're pale." Her hands gently cupped his face, searching his expression for any sign that he wasn't telling her the full truth.
He forced a weak smile, trying to ease her concern. "I'll be alright. Just need to rest."
His mom's gaze softened, but the worry in her eyes didn't fade. "I've been texting your father. He's caught up at work, but he'll come home as soon as he can. I told him you were out there searching with Fayne and Raze, but I… I didn't know when you'd be back."
Raxian nodded, stepping past her and sinking onto the couch. The weight of everything—the sleepless night, the search that seemed to lead nowhere, his own guilt—felt like it was pressing down harder now that he was home. His mom sat next to him, still holding her mug, but her eyes never left his face.
"She's going to be okay, Rax," his mom said softly, trying to sound reassuring, but her voice wavered just enough to betray her fear. "Sable's strong."
Raxian wanted to believe that. He needed to believe it. But the fear that something had gone terribly wrong gnawed at him. The memory of their argument haunted him. He should've done something sooner—reached out, fixed things before they got this bad.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out, seeing Fayne's message light up the screen.
Fayne: "I reached out to Milo. He's on it."
Raxian stared at the text for a long moment, emotions swirling inside him. Milo was resourceful. If anyone could help them figure out what was going on, it was him. But there was still that lingering sense of frustration—why hadn't Fayne contacted Milo earlier? Was it because of the tension between them, or had she simply hesitated, thinking she could handle it herself?
His mom's soft voice broke through his thoughts. "Who's that?"
"Fayne," Raxian muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. "She's been helping me search for Sable."
His mom nodded, her expression thoughtful. "She's always been a good friend to you." Her tone was gentle, but there was something behind her words—an unspoken question, perhaps, about Fayne and the way things had shifted between them lately.
Raxian didn't want to get into it. Not now. He typed out a quick reply to Fayne.
Raxian (text message): "Thanks for reaching out to him. We need all the help we can get."
He dropped the phone onto the table and leaned back in his seat, staring blankly at the ceiling. His mom reached out, placing a hand over his.
"Rax," she said softly, "I know you're blaming yourself for this. But it's not your fault. You couldn't have known…"
"I should've," he interrupted, his voice rough. "I should've seen it coming, Mom. She was hurting, and I didn't do anything about it."
His mom's hand tightened around his, her eyes filling with sympathy. "You can't carry all that weight, honey. Sable… she's been dealing with a lot, but that doesn't mean you're responsible for all of it."
Raxian clenched his jaw, staring down at the table. "It feels like I am."
His mom let out a soft sigh, standing up and moving to refill her tea. "Sometimes we miss the signs," she said quietly, her back to him. "It doesn't mean we didn't care enough. It just means we're human."
Raxian didn't respond. The guilt was too heavy, too raw. His phone buzzed again, another message from Fayne about Milo keeping an eye on Zenith and Lynx. It didn't make sense to him, but at this point, any lead was better than nothing.
His mom turned back to him, her eyes soft and full of understanding. "You're doing everything you can. You're not alone in this."
Raxian swallowed hard, nodding, but the knot in his chest didn't loosen. He still felt like everything was slipping through his fingers—like no matter how hard he tried, he was losing control. His mom squeezed his hand one last time before retreating to her room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
The silence of the apartment pressed in on him, and Raxian closed his eyes, sinking deeper into the couch. His phone sat on the table, the messages unread, but right now, he couldn't bring himself to look at them.
He had failed Sable. And no amount of reassurances could change that.
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Milo sat hunched over his desk, the blue glow of his monitors illuminating his focused expression. His room was dim, cluttered with the usual remnants of his late-night gaming sessions—empty cans, snack wrappers, a few crumpled notes scattered around the keyboard. But right now, none of that mattered. His mind was sharp, zeroed in on the patterns he had been analyzing for hours.
Zenith.
Milo's fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up data from their most recent matches. He had been watching them closely for weeks, long before Sable's disappearance. Something about their movements, their plays—it had all felt too calculated, too precise. Not just in their games, but in the way they moved off the Rift as well. Now, with Sable missing, Milo's suspicions were hardening into a grim certainty.
"They've been planning this," Milo muttered under his breath, his sharp eyes narrowing at the screen.
He shifted in his chair, the tension in his body coiling tighter with every click. The more he dug into Zenith's matches, the clearer it became. This wasn't just about winning games. Their recent strategies, their unusual focus on certain players, all led to one conclusion: they had been targeting Sable for a while.
He clicked through more footage, watching how Lynx and Zenith had shifted their attention during key matches—sometimes even letting other objectives fall just to mess with Raxian's team. They weren't just playing for rank; they were playing to destabilize. To get inside their heads.
And it was working.
Milo's stomach churned as he pieced it all together. Zenith had known about Sable's importance to Raxian—her place in his life, in his team. They had been chipping away at her, at him, little by little, until this moment. It wasn't random. This was a calculated move, a way to strike at Raxian where it hurt most.
Milo leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, frustration prickling under his skin. He had always felt like he was in Raxian's shadow, no matter what he did—always the backup, the second choice. Even now, part of him bristled at how Fayne had contacted him last, after hours of searching with Raxian and Raze. But he pushed those thoughts aside. This wasn't about their personal rivalry. This was about something much bigger, and Sable's life could be on the line.
Milo grabbed his phone, his fingers tapping out a message to Fayne.
Milo (text message): "I found something. I'm sending it to you now."
He attached the files, detailed screenshots and match data showing Zenith's patterns, highlighting how their strategy had shifted to focus on Sable. He knew Fayne would keep him in the loop, but there was still that nagging feeling—the constant reminder that, no matter how much he helped, he was never at the center of things like Raxian was.
His fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before sending the message. Deep down, the frustration burned—being sidelined, always feeling like he had to prove himself just to get noticed. But he pushed those feelings away, burying them under the task at hand. They didn't matter right now.
With a sharp exhale, Milo leaned forward again, his eyes scanning the data for any more clues. If Zenith had been playing this game, he needed to stay ahead of them. He couldn't let them win—not this time.
"Raxian might not see it," Milo muttered to himself, his voice low, "but this is all connected. They've been after him through her. Sable's just the start."
His gaze flickered to his phone as it buzzed with Fayne's reply.
Fayne (text message): "Got it. I'll share it with Rax and Raze. This is huge, Milo. Thank you."
Milo's chest tightened slightly at the words, that old rivalry bubbling beneath the surface. But he tamped it down. It didn't matter if Raxian knew or not, if Fayne noticed how much he had done behind the scenes. What mattered now was finding Sable—and stopping whatever Zenith had planned before it spiraled out of control.
Milo clicked through another file, determined to dig deeper. He wasn't about to let Raxian or Sable down, not this time. Not when he had the pieces of the puzzle that could bring everything into focus.
Milo (to himself): "This isn't over, Zenith. Not by a long shot."
And with that, he plunged back into the data, determined to outplay them at their own game.