Four years. Four years since you'd last set foot in this place. Since the world had ended and been remade, piece by shattered piece.

A radio crackled on a rickety wooden desk. The device was old, salvaged from a Scout outpost that should have crumbled into the earth long ago. Its dial glowed a weak, trembling orange.

It was a voice you had buried. One you had screamed into the abyss for, until your throat went raw and your chest ached with hollow silence.

It wasn't possible. You had seen the fire. You had felt the heat on your face from a hundred meters away. The roar of the titans.

The radio crackled again.