The Victorian home's attic was quiet, moonlight sneaking through dusty windows.
Tylor sat on the floor, arm bandaged, staring at Elena's journal.
Amaira curled up, pigtails loose, her family drawing under her hand.
Kayla tapped the scavenged drive, leg wrapped, green eyes tired but fierce.
Elias guarded Clara downstairs, her mean laugh still echoing, "Architect's smarter."
The rail yard fracture was gone, but the drive showed new places.
Kayla whispered, "One outpost left—old library, south side, Architect's hideout."
Amaira stirred, flashlight dim, "Like a secret club?" she asked softly.
Tylor hugged her, heart heavy, red balloon memory hurting his chest.
A faint hum came from the drive, purple light blinking fast.
Kayla's dreams buzzed, showing a hooded figure, violet sparks flying.
"Architect's close," she said, standing, drive in her pocket, ready.
Tylor grabbed a pipe, Amaira's hand warm, "We'll find them."
The library waited, dark and old, Collective's last trick ready.
Moonlight faded, their family strong, chasing the Architect's shadow