The wind howled over the Shambali cliffs, cold and biting.
Two brothers moved in silence—one cloaked in armor, the other in regret. Their path wound along a cliffside trail, sheer drops on one side, mist-laced pines sprawling beneath them like a sea of ghosts.
Genji walked ahead, light on his feet despite the steel beneath his skin.
Hanzo followed, bow slung over his shoulder, his eyes fixed on the horizon.
For a time, there was no need for words. The quiet between them had grown familiar—a silence tempered by shared pain, not distance.
But then…
A low vibration buzzed against Genji's hip.
He stopped.
Hanzo did too.
Genji lifted the small communicator from his belt. With a subtle flick of his thumb, the blue glow of a holographic message flickered to life in the cold air.
Winston's voice cut through the wind.
"This is a Priority-One distress call. Jay—codename Pyro—is alive. Or something close to it."
"He is no longer what he was."
"We're requesting immediate assistance from you both. Full intel attached."
The message ended with a crackle.
And then… nothing.
Just the wind. And a name.
Jay.
The image of his face lingered in the holo-frame—smiling, once. Human. Fire still just a whisper behind the eyes.
Genji stared.
Hanzo didn't.
"They think they're going to fight him," Hanzo said, voice low and sharp.
"They don't understand what's waiting for them."
Genji closed the communicator gently.
"No," he said. "But we do."
He sat on a nearby boulder, lowering himself with the practiced stillness of a monk. His metal fingers curled around his knees.
"He respected us," Genji murmured. "I think… maybe part of him still does."
Hanzo scoffed quietly.
"Respect won't stop him."
Genji looked up.
Their eyes met—two different kinds of survivors staring across the same chasm.
"You feel it too, don't you?" Genji asked.
Hanzo didn't answer right away.
He turned instead toward the valley below. The fog shifted around the treetops, swirling unnaturally.
Something unnatural stirred beneath it.
"It's not just rage anymore," Hanzo said finally.
"It's become something else."
A pause.
Then—
"It's judgment."
They sat in silence again, the kind that felt heavy with the weight of old decisions.
Then Hanzo stepped forward, placing a hand on Genji's shoulder.
"If we do this…"
"We don't go in as warriors."
"We go as brothers."
Genji nodded slowly.
"Even if there's nothing left to save."
Above them, the sky began to change.
A streak of unnatural flame tore through the clouds—silent and white as bone.
And for the first time in years, Genji felt afraid.
Not of death.
But of what waited beneath the fire.