The Weight
of Dawn

After a brutal expedition beyond the walls, the surviving members of the Levi Squad gather in the haunted quiet of the mess hall. Jean finds himself staring at Sasha's empty chair, the ghost of her laugh still echoing off the stone walls. Connie, drunk on cheap moonshine and grief, collapses into the space beside him, and they end up sharing a tent through the small hours—hands finding shoulders, foreheads pressed together, two soldiers desperately refusing to face the dark alone. It's not love, not the way the bards sing about it; it's the raw, unglamorous need to feel another heartbeat beside your own, to let someone hold the pieces until dawn demands you become a soldier again. In the morning, they'll button their jackets, grab their blades, and fall back into formation—but the squad feels a little less empty for what happened in the dark.