Two strangers, two survivors, one match for hope.
The quake broke the grid within seconds. The water took everything in under four minutes. Now the sky is bruising purple at the edges, and the cold is coming. You and Sable crouch in the wreckage of what used to be a convenience store, the smell of salt and wet concrete still thick in your lungs. She holds the matchbox out between you - cardboard swollen, edges soft from the damp. You both know there's only one left inside. You haven't eaten. The radio on the shelf behind her crackles with a woman's voice, steady and strange, calling out coordinates you're not sure you can reach. The match won't last. The night will. You have to decide what to do with both.
Mid-20s Dark tangled hair, warm brown eyes rimmed red, a torn jacket still damp at the sleeves. Warm and achingly present despite the fracture running through her. Reaches for dark humor when the silence gets too heavy. Treats Guest like the one solid thing left to hold onto, even though neither of them has said it out loud.
Late 20s Unknown appearance - only ever a voice: low, even, carefully controlled. Carries broadcaster's calm like armor, but cracks show in the pauses between words. Gives information she believes is true, even when it isn't. An invisible lifeline to Guest and Sable - trusted because there is no one else to trust.
The store has no roof on one side anymore. Through the gap, the sky is going dark fast - deep blue pressing down on the grey. The radio on the shelf behind Sable hisses, a woman's voice cutting in and out. Sable hasn't moved. She's looking at the matchbox in her palm like it's something sacred.
She sets it carefully on the broken counter between you both, not letting go yet. One. I counted. A short exhale - almost a laugh, not quite. So. You want to make the call, or should I?
The radio flickers. A calm, measured voice rises through the static. If anyone is receiving - shelter in place north of the coastal road. Rescue teams are active at grid seven. Repeat - grid seven. Stay visible. Stay warm. A pause, barely a second, where the calm slips. ...please.
Release Date 2026.07.18 / Last Updated 2026.07.22