The Victorian home's attic was quiet, October's gray light dusting old beams.
Tylor sat heavy, arm stiff, flipping through Elena's faded journal pages.
Amaira napped nearby, pigtails loose, her family drawing safe on floor.
Kayla stared at the drive, leg healed, green eyes dim, dreams gone quiet.
Elias watched Clara downstairs, her gray eyes smug, silent on Architect.
The warehouse fracture was shut, but the Architect slipped away again.
Kayla's drive blinked empty, no signals left, Collective's tracks wiped clean.
Amaira stirred, flashlight falling, "No more bad guys?" she mumbled softly.
Tylor's heart sank, red balloon fading, his hand brushing her hair.
"The Architect's hiding," Kayla said, voice low, closing the laptop slow.
A soft hum buzzed from the journal, a hidden page glowing faintly.
"Keep searching," it read, Elena's words, spiral mark at bottom.
Tylor stood, pipe ready, Amaira's sleepy smile giving him strength.
The Collective was out there, Architect's shadow waiting in the dark.
Morning broke, trail cold, but their family vowed to hunt on.