Chapter 42: The Miller Sister Chaotic Childhood

Gideon smiled faintly when he heard Freya’s answer. "Your mother is a real one. And you grew up kind in a world like this. That says a lot about you, Freya."

Her eyes brightened, and she nodded without hesitation. A soft flush crept onto her face.

"Thank you. You’re right though, my mom really is the best. I’m glad she kept guiding me, even if she can be a little controlling sometimes. At least I didn’t lose myself."

"She’s not that bad," Gideon said. "Not really controlling either. She’s just worried. Honestly, that’s better than having no one guiding you at all."

The words lingered longer than he expected.

That had been his life. A bad father. A dead mother. Every step forward was taken with only his sister beside him.

"Yeah," he added quietly, "never thought I’d say this, but I’m thankful I had my sister growing up."

Freya turned her head toward him, surprise clear on her face. "That’s the first time you’ve talked about yourself. Do you remember something about yourself now? Where is she now?"

She paused, then gasped softly. "Wait, no. Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked."

"It’s fine, I always remember her..." Gideon replied. "She’s not dead. We’re just separated. Far away. So far that I don’t think we’ll ever meet again."

His smile thinned, turning bitter. "But she’s fine. I know she is. She always was strong."

He leaned back against the seat, eyes fixed on the endless stretch of sand ahead.

He knew his sister might have suffered at first. But she would move on. She always did. She’d build a life without him weighing her down. Settle somewhere. Maybe have a family, a child.

After a long silence, Freya spoke again.

"What’s her name?"

"Callista Beckett. She’s three years older than me. Even so, she practically raised me."

Freya smiled softly. "She sounds amazing. I hope you meet her again someday. Being separated doesn’t mean a relationship ends."

Gideon knew she was trying to comfort him. Still, part of him hoped Callista stayed in the modern world. This place was brutal, too unstable, especially for someone reckless and impulsive like her.

"I hope so," he said, offering a small, polite smile.

The conversation drifted naturally after that. Freya began talking about her childhood with Summer, about how chaotic they had been long before they found the bunker.

Listening to her, Gideon could only raise his brows. They weren’t just bratty. They were on an entirely different level.

They had been nomads as children, traveling with different groups before settling down.

Once, they had decided to role-play as chefs, cooking leaves and petals from the dead aberrants and scattering the mess across their temporary shelter from on top of the building.

The adults had panicked, convinced that other aberrants were preparing an attack. Chaos followed. Even now, no one knew the sisters had been responsible.

Another time, their group had mixed camps with another faction, tension already high. The sisters found a lit stove and, naturally, decided to play chef again. The fire nearly burned the entire shelter down.

Both groups blamed each other.

That misunderstanding escalated into a full conflict, one that could have turned into a war.

And through it all, Freya told the stories with a giggle and joy, as if she still didn’t realize just how dangerous they had been.

"Until now, no one knows we were behind that fire," Freya said, laughing as if it were the funniest memory she had.

Gideon stared at her, mouth hanging open. "That’s insane. What about the war? People died because of that, didn’t they?"

"Of course not!" Freya waved it off quickly, then laughed a little more awkwardly.

"It only turned into a cold war. Our camps attracted aberrants, and that scared both groups enough to stop things from escalating."

"You were little psychopaths," he said, half laughing, half horrified.

"Ugh, isn’t that normal for kids?"

Freya bit her lower lip, suddenly less confident as she thought back. "We didn’t know any better at the time."

"No," Gideon said firmly, shaking his head with a chuckle. "I never started a war between two groups when I was a kid."

"It wasn’t a war," she insisted. "There were no casualties!"

"It’s still bad, and the fact that your mom still doesn’t know about it..." He sighed. "I thought I was a troublesome child just because I once stole oranges from my neighbor’s yard."

"Ask Summer," Freya said quickly. "It was her idea. I just followed along."

Gideon laughed again, unable to stop himself. Freya pouted for a moment, then ended up laughing with him.

Not long after, they reached the edge of the Deliric Desert. From a distance, they spotted a familiar three-wheeled vehicle stopped on the sand. A man waved both arms as they approached.

It was Killian.

"Oii! Can you help us?"

Freya stopped the vehicle in front of him. Gideon leaned forward. "What happened?"

"Ran out of fuel," Killian admitted, rubbing the back of his head. "Forgot to refill."

Gideon glanced at Freya. "Do we have enough fuel?"

"Just give him a core," she said casually. "This model converts cores into fuel."

"Oh, right," Gideon muttered.

He pulled a core from his storage, stepped out, and handed it to Killian.

"Thanks," Killian said with a grin. "I’ll treat you to food later. My wife’s a great cook."

He jogged back to his vehicle and popped the fuel cap open.

Gideon followed, and that was when he noticed Elaine sitting inside, calm and composed.

"Huh? Are you two heading to see patients?"

Elaine nodded. "Nice timing. Yes, the traveling faction asked us to meet them. Several people were injured."

"Injured?" Gideon repeated.

"An aberrant attack," Killian said as he secured the cap again. "They sent a message using a dove. Well, a domesticated aberrant."

"You’re heading there now?" Gideon asked.

"We are," Killian replied. "What about you?"

"Same destination," Gideon said. Then he glanced back at Elaine. "Domesticated aberrants can really exist?"

Elaine nodded. "Herbivorous ones without toxic plant mutations can be tamed. They’re docile and capable of photosynthesis."

"I see," Gideon said slowly. "That makes sense."

"Why don’t we travel together?" Killian suggested.

"It’s safer. The attack sounded serious, and they’ll need all the help they can get."

Summer’s words echoed in Gideon’s mind. ’Actions matter more than promises and words.’

A grin spread across his face. "Sure, I’ll help."

And just like that, the four of them were traveling together and were shocked when they saw the disaster in front of them.