Four days had passed since Lacia and the others left town. The days blurred together; the nights became sleepless. The passing headlights from other vehicles were gentle reminders that she wasn’t alone, but her mind had become a prison. She missed her parents, school, and the carefree attitude she used to have, but, from the time that classes had been cancelled to now, not a single person had reached out to her: no text messages, DMs, or even phone calls. The loneliness was all encompassing, encapsulating the frayed threads that still bound her to reality.
To make matters worse, what Brendan had said as they pulled away from the house only confused her heart and mind further. She didn’t know what to say, how to react, and, worst of all, how to feel. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t put words to her feelings, or words to reciprocate the kindness he’d shown her.
“This boy really has a way with words,” she thought. “I want to tell him how I feel, but I don't know what to do…”
Mana hardly even reacted, leading Lacia to wonder if there was something she wasn’t being told, but then again, if Brendan did like her, she could see why he was confiding in Mana. What reason did she have to expect a straightforward confession, anyways? Leading with her heart instead of her head would only cause more trouble—she was damaged goods at this point. Sure, she was confident in her looks, and she had a great personality, but in what world would a guy like Brendan want someone like her—someone who only causes problems?
“Wait, but what if Mana has feelings for him that I don’t know about? Would it be alright for me to just sweep the guy she likes away from her? That would be like rubbing it in her face, and I can’t do something like that to her.”
She could feel the sting of salty tears on dry eyes; crying wouldn’t solve anything, it would only hold her back—she knew that, but still. The time had come to embrace the young woman she was, and the young woman she needed to be—there was no time to sit around and wonder what happens next.
Brendan was right, she couldn’t hold on to the past forever; the past didn’t frighten her—the future did. She was toeing the line between reality and nostalgia, and if she wasn’t careful, she would sacrifice what she knew for what she didn’t.
“Maybe I could just tuck myself into a hidden, little corner of the world where no one can find me. Nobody will need me, and I can just live peacefully. No expectations, no responsibilities—just peace,” she pondered.
She was fine with that. Besides, her life had shattered like glass, tiny pieces scattered in places she couldn’t find, still connected by the same thread of hope she so desperately clung to. While that single thread of hope kept her going, it was that very same thread that had thrown her into a mad world, full of confusion, doubt, and loneliness. What more was there to lose?
She peered out the window, cheek pressed against her hand. Orange skies cast a deep, purple hue over the clouds as the sun began to set. The final fringes of daylight would soon turn to night, empowered by the moon’s heavenly glow. Tomorrow, the same hellish cycle would begin again: she’d wake up, worry about what the next day would bring, and wish she was anyone but herself.
She’d had enough. Things were optimistic enough when they left Azalea; she had Mana and Brendan by her side, but things devolved from then on. She grew depressed, worried that whatever was going on with her would return. If her gift required her to burden the expectations of the world, how was she supposed to meet the expectations of people she’d never even met? Moreover, why should that be her sole responsibility alone? Her thoughts had become an all-consuming vortex of negativity that threatened to pull her under; she’d drown, dragged down by the undertow, where no one would ever find her.
Ding, ding!
The car was low on fuel and dusk was beginning to settle in. “We’re probably about fifty miles to empty if we’re lucky—realistically, more like thirty. Lucky for us, I saw a small refueling station when we came over the top of the hill back there, so we’d better go ahead and stop. That ok with you two?” Brendan asked.
“Sure,” Mana replied. “I need to get out and stretch, anyways.”
“Uhh, yeah. That’s fine,” Lacia muttered.
Brendan took the nearest exit, veering off the highway and onto a narrow side street. A few minutes later, the station came into view, but it looked sketchy: grass had grown through the pavement and rust covered most of the pumps. The place looked as if it hadn’t been used in years—even the numbers on the station’s sign were yellowed and cracked from excess exposure to the sun.
Fortunately, the place was abandoned, though it looked as if the convenience store portion had been looted. Brendan circled the parking lot, ensuring they were alone, but someone had set the pumps, voiding the requirement for payment to fill up.
“That’s a little too convenient,” he thought. “Why would an old station like this even have fuel to begin with, regardless of whether the pumps still required payment or not?” He quickly filled the tank before replacing the nozzle. “Would you two mind going in to see if there’s any food or bottles of water left?” he asked Lacia and Mana. “I’m gonna try to get a cell signal so we can navigate back to the highway. It’s been spotty ever since yesterday…”
“Yeah. We’ll see what we can find. Right, Lacia?” Mana said.
“Ok,” she said. A strange odor had captured her attention, but she couldn’t place the smell… or figure out why it seemed so familiar. “Strange,” she mumbled, brushing it off for the time being.
Walking in, Lacia stuck her head inside one of the freezers, but the power had been shut off some time ago. She checked the shelves and window displays next. Luckily, not everything had been looted: bags of chips, snack cakes, and several warm cases of water were littered between the floor and shelves. Delighted, she filled her arms until they were full.
“Mana,” she called. “You find anything? There’s a little stuff still left over here, but my arms are full.”
“Actually, yeah.” She laid her haul out on the counter as Lacia walked up. “Some candy bars, canned goods, and microwaveable meals,” she said. “Those would probably have to be eaten cold since we don’t have a way to heat them, but I’d say we were successful!”
A light breeze drifted through the open door, carrying the same scent Lacia had noticed from earlier, a mixture of scented cleaning supplies and fresh citrus. She took a couple deep breaths, trying to identify the strange odor, but she just couldn’t place why she knew it; the source was close, though.
“Do you smell that?” she asked, looking at Mana.
“No? Do you smell something?”
“Yeah… It’s super familiar to me, but I don’t know why…” She snuck around the perimeter of the store, leaving her stash of snacks inside. “Is that… a rock?”
There, in the tall grass, a faint, amber-colored stone glistened as it reflected the final rays of evening twilight. Curiosity got the better of her as she picked it up, small enough to fit in the palm of her hand, yet larger than most of the surrounding rocks. She examined the mysterious stone closer. Without warning, what appeared to be a human eye appeared on the surface. Startled, she dropped the stone in a panic as the odor continued to grow stronger, quickly becoming the only thing she could focus on. Waves of nausea overwhelmed her like a strong perfume.
“What is this?” she groaned. “Why do I feel so sick? Why… Why won’t the spinning stop?”
The world around her began to fall away, swirls of amber, green, and white filling her vision. Lost in the vertigo, she stumbled back as she lost her balance. Mana’s voice was caught up in the vortex of colors; a rush of wind shoved one final plume of the strange odor into Lacia’s nostrils; the disorienting whoosh of blood in her ears sealed the outside world away. Trapezing to the ground, her shoulder struck the hardened soil. Rocks dug into her arm as she cried out before everything fell mute, but there was no pain—only an increasing sense of numbness that took over her body. The colors faded to black; her head struck the back wall of the fueling station with a sickening craaack, a malevolent laughter reverberating through her head as she lost consciousness.
“Oh? Finally awake, are we? It’s good to see you, Lacia,” a new voice echoed. “Looks like we can finally begin.”
She opened her eyes, groggy. “Four walls, a low ceiling, and no windows—just where am I?”
The only light that filled the room came from an open, steel door. Looking around, she determined the walls were made of some kind of cement, though they were barren of decoration or pictures. The stench of bleach and the familiar, citrusy scent from before filled her nose again, sending her brain into a whirlwind of mixed emotions. How could the odor have followed her here, of all places? No… It was different, more profound, but not as overpowering. She wondered if she’d been transported to a nearby hospital, judging by the inclusion of bleach.
“That can’t be right. Medical staff wouldn’t say that we can finally begin something without explaining what that something is.” The yellow, artificial light from the hallway and heavy, steel door should have been dead giveaways. “I remember hitting my head, so maybe if I sit up…”
She expected the thin, scraggily blanket and sheets used to keep her warm to slide off as she attempted to sit up. A confused grunt escaped her lips as she was promptly forced back onto the bed—the covers hadn’t moved an inch. The sudden influx of light illuminated the compact space, instantly blinding her. Instinctually, she moved a hand to shield her eyes but not even her arms would move—it was then she realized she was pinned to the bed.
“What the hell is going on here?” she thought, panicked.
Suddenly, the bed rotated into an upright position as she came face to face with a full-length mirror; the reality of the situation set in—she was in serious trouble. Stripped of everything but a thin hoodie and her underwear, terror spread across her face; she had been strapped to a steel table. She squirmed, trying to free even an arm.
“Struggle all you want, but you’re not doing yourself any favors. See, you collapsed beside this stone,” the same unknown voice said. A dark-haired man appeared from a small room somewhere behind her, holding the same stone she’d discovered prior to losing consciousness.
“We’ve met before—in your dreams,” he explained. “I’m afraid I didn’t look my best at that moment, but that is unimportant. “This stone here,” he said, holding the same one from earlier up, “is called neriolite. We don’t know much about it yet, or even where it came from, but it only seems to react to certain people.” His eyes bore holes into her soul.
She was growing tired, trying to free herself, but she refused to give up. It didn’t matter if this was some “It’s for your own good” crap or to do her some kind of “favor”. She wanted out—answers could come later.
“Look,” the man said, pushing his hair back, “You’re in the middle of the ocean, on a boat that no one will be able to find. You’re going to stay right here until I have what I need. Understand?”
Lacia narrowed her eyes in defiance. “No, I do not understand,” she thought to herself. “And how did I even get here?”
“You’re a part of something much bigger than you or me, and this stone,” he said, holding the neriolite up to her face, “is obviously important to all of this.”
The closer the strange man brought the stone, the more her head swam. Whatever was going on, it scared the hell out of her, and it was clear she had been poked with more than a few needles—a chilling thought.
“Just a couple more tests, and then I’ll be done poking and prodding,” the man said. “I do still need a blood sample to run a few tests on. I’m sure you won't mind.”
Empty plastic tubes lay in a tray near the side of the table; she imagined them filled with dark, red blood. Other than being strapped to a random table on a boat in the middle of nowhere, everything else was in order: medical graphics were plastered to cabinet doors, counters were cleaned off—free of unnecessary clutter, and fresh paper covered the chair normally reserved for patients. The only thing, other than herself, that seemed out of place were the used medical tools that lay in a nearby sink: a pair of prongs, an endoscope, and a few scalpels.
The windowless, surgical-like room felt more like a prison than anything else. Slate floors, concrete walls, and artificial light… Even the ship itself was a metaphorical prison. While the idea of involuntary medical tests wasn’t something she was real fond of, if what the man said was true, and she really was stranded on a ship in the middle of nowhere, what other choice did she have than to comply?
“Yeah… If only it worked like that,” she muttered under her breath.
Using the mirror as a guide, she tracked every finger curl, footstep, and muscle contraction the man made, watching as he rummaged around inside one of the cabinets. She watched as he approached, scrutinizing the new devices he’d taken from the cabinet, one in each hand.
“This may be a bit uncomfortable,” he warned, connecting an IV drip. “Apologies in advance.”
He placed an alcohol wipe and fresh set of rubber tubes on the tray next to her, wheeling it to the other side of the table. With a small tear, he pulled the wipe from the pouch, using it to disinfect her arm before inserting a new needle for blood draws. She flinched, feeling the cold metal dig into her arm.
“Judging by the number of tubes and IV drip, you’re planning on keeping me here for a while… Why?” she asked coldly.
“I think my earlier explanation was plenty enough reasoning for now,” he said, filling the tubes with blood.
“How long, then?”
“Long enough.”
“That’s not an answer!” she cried.
The man halted the blood draws. “You’re rather annoying. I think, for now, it’s better if you just sleep for a while,” he said, grabbing a filled syringe. Injecting the contents into the IV tube, he chuckled. “You’re a smart girl. You’ll figure out what’s going on.”
“Oh, so you’re just not going to answer me, then,” she said as her eyes grew heavy. “Promise me that, when I wake up, you let me get one, good punch in for this.” Her breathing slowed.
“How crass,” he said, adding a dramatic flair to his words. “You’re definitely an interesting one, Miss Amana.” He leaned over, whispering in her ear. “There are things in this universe that are beyond your comprehension.”
The final tinges of evening twilight faded into nighttime, an evening symphony of nightlife filling the air. Mana and Brendan sprinted over to the site of Lacia’s disappearance only to miss her by mere seconds. Shouting over the cacophony of crickets and cicadas, they traded arguments.
“What do you mean she’s gone?!”
“You saw what I saw. Keep a level head, Mana,” Brendan warned. “She isn’t gone, gone, but if you keep yelling at me, I won’t be able to trace her mana. It’s faint, but it’s there.”
“I–”
“Mana, let me focus.”
With a deep sigh, Mana dropped the argument, now coming to terms with the fact that arguing wouldn’t bring Lacia back; she continued to question what exactly she’d witnessed. Lacia had complained of a familiar odor before passing out and slamming her head into the ground, but the sudden appearance of a strange portal-like rift and man were game-changers. Something was happening behind the scenes she knew nothing about. Whatever it was, it involved Lacia in more ways than what she could wrap her head around.
Life felt like a mystery game. She had to gather the clues, make a hypothesis, and subsequently attempt to defend her theory. Unfortunately, the game board was the world itself and, if she were to save Lacia, she was going to have to step out of her comfort zone. The clock was ticking, but just how much time could she afford to spend gathering clues?
She was so bothered by the fact she’d been so useless that, as she watched the man step out from the strange rift, sweeping Lacia up as if she were lighter than a feather, that she wanted to curl up into a ball and forget everything. She shook her head. No— There was a way to make things right, but she needed to figure her own role out, first.
“Ok,” Brendan said. “I’ve got it. I don’t know where exactly she is, but the more we follow the trail of mana, the more we’ll figure out. The whole world is our playing field and there may be many players, but that just means we have to be smarter than they are, right?”
Mana smiled. “It’s like you knew what I was thinking.” Without hesitation, she jumped into the car. “You have driver duty for now,” she said, patting the driver’s seat.
Brendan shrugged, giving a hearty laugh as he loaded the back seat with the snacks and water the girls had scrounged from earlier. He pointed the car north as they sped off. He was just as concerned as she was, but there was still so much they didn’t know: there was more to learn about the Searing Wounds, Lacia’s family history, and now, the sudden appearance of rifts that led to random places. There was no doubt Lacia was connected to something, but that very something remained elusive, an unknown variable in an unsupervised science experiment.
“There has to be more we can do, though, you know? Let’s say we do find her. Then what? What’s waiting for us?” Mana questioned. “The last thing I expected to do was form a search and rescue team.”
“Look. I know you might feel like you failed her as her friend, but there was nothing we could have done to prevent what happened tonight. We will find her, and we will get this figured out, ok?” Brendan’s voice was full of optimism, but most importantly—certainty. “Whoever or whatever is waiting for us at the end of all this, we’ll tackle it head-on, together.”
The night dragged on as the mysterious man swapped between microscopes and computer monitors; a strange, complex genomic analysis was displayed across the screens. Letters and numbers were woven into genomic pairs, each computer sequencing random probabilities for genetic predispositions and abnormal readings.
“Lacia… Lacia!” Someone was calling her name, but it felt like a dream.
“Over here! Lacia?” The voice came again.
She opened her eyes, but there was a strange haze around everything as if she was looking through a glass bottle. Midday sunlight streamed through a window-filled wall. Squinting, Lacia looked around the room.
“Where… am I?” she thought to herself. “Wasn’t I just… No… Where was I just now?”
“LACIA!” Someone kept shouting her name, this time more forceful.
“What?! What is happening?!” she yelled back, annoyed.
A girl about her age ran up, out of breath. She seemed familiar somehow, but Lacia couldn’t put her finger on why. Was it her hair and the way the light reflected off its black tresses? Perhaps it was her emerald-green eyes?
“Lacia! Thank god,” she panted. “What are you doing here? We have to go—now,” she said. “Some weird monster-creature-thing kinda has us pinned, but no one has seen anything like it before. I mean,” she hesitated, “it just appeared suddenly. We’ve barricaded the entrance to this floor, but it might not last.”
Lacia’s first thought was to slip out unnoticed, but her feet felt as if they were stuck in wet cement. Here she was, in the middle of the hallway in a school she’d never attended, left only with fuzzy memories of a life that may or may not be real. To make matters worse, there was some supposed creature that had trapped an unknown number of people inside.
“Umm… Who are you, exactly, and where am I? Where are we?”
“What do you mean?” the girl asked, confused. “Lacia, this isn’t the time for… games. Wait… You really don’t know? Are you okay?”
The mysterious creature had found its way up the stairs and was now banging on the doors, but Lacia stood her ground, still cemented to the floor. She watched as several students sprinted past her towards a makeshift barricade.
“Ok, listen to me carefully. I don’t know what happened when you hit your head earlier, but I guess you have amnesia or something now? I don’t know, but uhhh… Here,” she said, pulling out a plastic card. “It’s my student ID. Does the name ring any bells? Mana, Mana Lhumin?”
“Everything about her is so familiar, but I just can’t think of why,” Lacia thought. The sound of her name triggered something in the back of her mind, like a long-forgotten memory, but it was more than that. She felt like they shared a deeper connection somehow, but the synapses just wouldn’t fire.
A series of deafening screeches came from the doors as the creature raked its claws against the steel frame. Was it trying to get in, or was it taunting them, fully capable of breaking through at any moment? Something about the whole situation felt off. Maybe it was the girl in front of her, but she placed subsequent blame on her own inability to remember anything: people, names, faces—it was all just a blur, like an out-of-focus camera.
Without warning, Mana pulled her into a nearby classroom as she attempted to yank her arm away. “Okay,” she said, trying not to lose her temper, “You’re going to explain everything to me—right now.” She didn’t appreciate being dragged around like some plaything.
Mana squeezed her arm tighter, as she stared into her eyes. “What the hell is wrong with you? I’ve never seen you this dense,” she said in a hushed whisper. “This is Miruna High School and you’re in class 3A. I get that this is stressful, but stop freaking out on me, ok?”
Lacia still couldn’t place why she felt like she knew her. That soft voice, overly polite mannerisms, even her face… “Who are you?” she thought, as she stared into her eyes. “Why can’t I remember— No, wait… You’re—”
BOOM! The sound of a shotgun blast echoed through the building as cheers erupted down the hallway.
“Nice shot, Cilan!” a male student cheered.
“Is it dead?” another asked.
“Yeah, we got it,” the first student said.
Lacia and Mana joined the handful of other students as they rushed into the hall, greeted by the carcass of the slain creature. They reeled for a moment before examining its corpse, flickering as if it were refracting light.
Several students were dismissed to survey the damage to the school, simultaneously tasked with searching for survivors. To no one’s surprise, hallways and classrooms on the other two floors had been trashed.
“Tell me that this isn’t normal,” Lacia said, unsteadily.
Lockers hung open by their hinges; tattered gym clothes, shredded papers, and backpacks lined the hallways. Ceiling lights swung from their cords, flickering as they swung back and forth. Sharp plastic and glass littered the floor alongside a myriad of other random school supplies, transforming the school into an apocalyptic hellscape. Wondering just what she’d managed to get herself mixed up in, Lacia jumped as a ceiling tile crashed to the floor.
“How did that one thing cause so much destruction? It looks like a hurricane tore through the place,” she said, standing atop the stairs. “Someone has answers, right?”
Suddenly, excited shouts bounded up the stairway; a survivor had been found, a male student and a member of the student council, only adding to the mystery. Student council members should have been on a school-related trip, absent from campus, according to one of the other students—an off-campus meeting regarding proposed changes to club budgets.
Lacia watched as Mana ducked into a nearby classroom, re-emerging with a sheet of paper; the entire front of the page was covered in school announcements. Flipping through the pages, she finally came across an attendance record, confirming that StuCo members were supposed to be off campus.
Confusion crossed her face. “That’s the Treasurer,” she said, cross-referencing his student ID number pinned to the badge on his chest. “Like the rest of the council members, he was marked as excused, so why is he here?” Mana asked. “He’s not even wearing the StuCo armband.”
“Ok, so why was he the only survivor and what did we just kill?” Lacia asked as she descended the stairs. She looked Mana in the eyes. “This is so not normal.”
“I mean, I don’t know what’s going on either, but—”
“Heyy! He’s waking up,” one of the students shouted from another nearby classroom. “You two might want to hear what he has to say, too,” they said, addressing Lacia and Mana. “He just started mumbling about Lacia and a photo for some reason.”
Turning to look at each other, Mana shrugged, leaving Lacia with less answers than she had questions to. “Yeah, because that makes me feel better,” she mumbled, following Mana’s lead.
The Treasurer shot up like he’d been pinched, rubbing his head, as the girls entered the classroom. Sliding off a de-cluttered desk, he moved to meet them halfway, but Mana shook her hands, dissuading him from moving around.
“Stay there. Don’t put yourself in danger for our sake,” she said.
He nodded. “That thing, though… It was hunting you,” he said, pointing at Lacia. “When it saw your photo, it went berserk and started rampaging.”
“My photo?” Lacia echoed, pointing to herself.
“Mm. The one on the pinboard, just past the shoe lockers. You know, the student of the week showcase?”
She gave him a blank stare. “Huh?”
“Uhh, she’s had a long day,” Mana chimed in.
When asked about why he returned to campus, the boy simply shook his head. “I remember I was standing in the hallway, but I felt like I was half-asleep,” he said, wracking his brain. “It looked at the photos of all the students on the pin board, but when it found yours, it seemed like it knew exactly who it was searching for.”
Lacia’s face had grown pale as one of the other students settled her into a nearby chair, afraid she was going to pass out. The school in of itself felt strangely artificial to her; to have some kind of beast attempt to hunt her down, however, only affirmed her worries that something wasn’t quite right. She felt woozy, drained of energy. Hazy images flooded her mind of the mysterious lab and its dim lights, but that was as much as she could make out; she felt like she was trying to recall a dream.
“Let’s pretend this is all actually for real for a moment,” she said, shakily. “Why did that thing want me, and why go to such lengths to totally wreck the place? And no casualties? Either this is a super elaborate prank or I’m missing something.”
The Treasurer cleared his throat. “So that we’re all on a first name-basis here, instead of everyone calling me Mr. Treasurer, just use my name—Kaden. As for your previous statement, Lacia,” he said, “That thing was not an elaborate hoax. It barreled into me like a damn freight train and shoved me into the lockers. Honestly, I’m fortunate you guys dug me out.”
The abrupt striking sound of leather shoes on tile pierced the hallway, averting everyone’s attention to the doorway. A girl, about Lacia’s age, stood in the frame, breathing heavily as she attempted to catch her breath.
Her hair looked as if it had been wind blown, uneven bangs of caramel brown hair revealing her forehead. Big, brown eyes reminded Lacia of a dog begging for a treat, but she admired how vibrant they were—a perfect chocolate brown. A sweet scent wafted into the classroom, sending Lacia’s brain into overdrive as she attempted to identify the girl’s perfume.
“She’s so pretty,” Lacia thought. “Slim figure, great face, and a butt I wish I had.”
“Kaden,” the girl cried out, “I—” She stumbled over her words, eyes wide as she made eye contact with Lacia. She shook her head, collecting herself. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”
“What was that?” Lacia thought. “She acted like she knew me or something, but I have no idea who this girl is…”
As she walked into the classroom, it became apparent she’d been through quite an ordeal; dust caked her skin, giving her an almost emaciated appearance. Clouds of dust and flakes of foam ceiling tile emanated from her clothes as she brushed herself off. Wincing, a fresh puncture wound brimmed with fresh crimson; she squeezed her arm, blood seeping through her fingers.
“Lyra?” Kaden replied. “Where did you come from?”
“I was home sick today,” she said, “but I got a text from the school telling everyone to shelter in place, so I came as quickly as I could. I was worried, ok?”
Kaden shook his head. “Do I even have to explain to you how awful a decision that was and what “shelter in place” means?”
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Lyra puffed out her cheeks, not happy about the reprimand. “I’ll have you know,” she started, placing a very animated hand on her hip, “while I was making my way through all the debris, I found this phone on the floor.” She placed her hand back at her side. “I… know whose it is, but I don’t think they’re with us anymore.” She held the phone out, unlocking it with a few quick taps. “Just what happened here, though? There’s a video on here that gives me a pretty good idea, but…”
Kaden answered first. “For starters, we were attacked by some strange creature. Where it came from, hell if I know. Regardless, it was merciless.”
A shiver crept down Lacia’s spine. “Lyra… that video… Can we see it?” she asked, unseating herself from the chair.
“I really don’t recommend it if you have a weak stomach,” she warned. “I haven’t watched all of it myself, but what I did watch… It’s not pretty.” She placed the phone on a nearby desk for everyone to see, angling the phone against a textbook.
The camera was shaky, periodically pointed at the floor, down at the shoes of a female student, or waving around the room; it was apparent the video was placed in one of the classrooms. Gasps shook the silence as the first images danced across the screen of the thing that had nearly killed them. It was one thing seeing its carcass, it was another to see it up and about, prowling every square inch of the classroom.
It was difficult to make out at first, refracting light with every step it took. Somewhere off-camera, a loud crash erupted before the phone abruptly turned toward the source of the disturbance: the classroom door had been torn from its hinges as it flew through the window, narrowly avoiding a group of students huddled together in fear, followed by the sickening crunch of bones and shrieks of agony.
The video continued for a few more seconds, capturing the exact moment a student was caught by the beast, dangling upside down, caught by an invisible tendril of sorts. Moments later, they dissipated into a pile of ash. The remainder of the video was filled with the sound of ripping flesh, splattering blood, and screams as students attempted to flee via the broken window, only to wind up with broken legs as they hit the ground—fodder for the beast.
The camera was thrown into the air, landing on the floor atop a pile of clothes—likely the uniform of the student who’d been filming. As the phone continued to record, more terrified shrieks and cries could be heard from further up the hallway; a bloody hand fell over the camera as the video ended.
Kaden spoke up first. “Everything that happened before that thing hit me is a blur,” he said, rubbing his head, “Honestly, I’m not even sure if I just tripped or if it knocked me out the way. I mean, it was so focused on finding you it ignored me, I guess.” He looked to Lacia.
“I— I don’t know, Kaden,” she said. “I think I need some air, though… The room is spinning…” Her palms grew sweaty as she gripped the corner of the desk, growing increasingly nauseated. She closed her eyes. “Oh my god…”
“Hey! Lacia?” a faint voice called. She opened one eye to find Lyra crouched in front of her. “Hey, stay with me,” she said.
“I—"
The fall was inevitable. Lacia tried to stand, feeling like she was about to vomit, as she stumbled around the classroom. Banging her knee on a desk, she fell over the edge, unable to stop her descent. Her head slammed against another desk as her foot caught the underside of yet another, twisting around, causing it to fall over her as her head finally hit the floor.
Lyra’s voice faded into the black. “Fuck. I lost her already…”
A small groan escaped Lacia’s throat. She tried to stretch but was promptly greeted with sore muscles and a pounding headache. Inconvenient, but at least the nausea was gone, and her head wasn’t spinning like she was stuck on a merry-go-round. Realizing the same ache from before had returned, she moved to rub her side, wincing.
Looking around, she realized what had once been a warmly lit school classroom was now an empty room, cage-like walls towering before her, void of décor and cold. a sharp pain surfacing from the same side as always. She had a feeling she was back on the same ship of the man who’d kidnapped her, but even if that were true, it didn’t explain why the dream she’d just had felt so real. Realizing she wasn’t strapped down this time, she sat up… and was greeted with the same swimmy feeling from before.
“Oh god,” she moaned, “I’m going to be sick. Hate me for this later.” She leaned over the edge of the bed but didn’t make it in time.
Not a minute later, angry footsteps paraded down the hall as the door to her room was thrown open. It was a woman, but she didn’t have time to ask for a towel or something to settle her stomach as she was promptly stripped down, sweat and vomit-covered clothes and all.
She was half-led, half-dragged down the hall and thrown into a spacious shower room. The strange new woman barked orders at her.
“Clean yourself up, and if you get sick in there too, you’ll be the one cleaning it up next time. Understand?” she growled as she walked away.
Startled, Lacia examined the shower room as the door slammed shut behind her, sending a whirl of cherry blossom and summer rain-scented soaps into the air—a luxurious aroma, but it didn’t take long for curiosity to take over. Did the woman lock the door behind her? If not, could she just… run away? She stood up and was met with a searing ache in her side again. Using the wall for support, she inched her way towards the door, jingling the handle. To her dismay, although unsurprising, the door was locked.
“Oh well,” she sighed. “They have running here, right?” she wondered aloud. “A hot shower would be massive W right now. I feel disgusting, and being covered in puke is so not fun.” She turned away from the door.
The bathroom was spacious, shower stalls running the length of the left wall; several smaller toilet stalls and sinks lined the opposite wall, separated by a large wall-length mirror on each side. Like every other room on the ship, the bathroom was also devoid of windows, only illuminated by dim LED lights that reflected off the glassy floor. Dark tiles and low light made the bathroom feel like something out of a movie; it was exceptionally clean, aromatic, and so quiet her ears rang.
She stepped into the shower stall furthest from the door—God only knew if the woman was eavesdropping by the door or not. She wanted privacy—not someone who monitored her every move.
With a small squeak, she turned the shower handle, surprised by the instant hot water. Looking around, she noticed a small table adorned with several bottles of shampoo and body soaps that had been left in a nearby stall. What she really wanted, however, was a toothbrush and some toothpaste. She allowed the steam from the shower to fill the bathroom as she rummaged around inside an unlocked cabinet, successfully acquiring a package of toothbrushes and a small tube of toothpaste.
“Technically, since I’m the one being held captive, I have a right to whatever I want in here,” she mumbled. “I mean, don’t I deserve at least a little compensation?”
Walking into the other stall, she grabbed the table, undressed, and stepped into the water; the steam helped to relax her muscles. The sound of the shower water filled the bathroom, blanketing her pained grunts as she slid down the shower wall and onto the floor. She pulled her knees up to her chest and closed her eyes; warm water plastered her hair against her wet skin.
“Fuck… What did I get myself into?” she said, exasperated. “And… what was that dream? It felt so real, but that girl…” She shook her head. “No. I had to be imagining it. Strangers don’t just look at each other like they’re old friends.”
She recalled everything that happened up to that point: the bleeding and bruising, the dream she’d had with Brendan, leaving home, and, finally, the neriolite and mysterious man. Was there something they all had in common? Something that linked everything together into one single narrative? Mana was in the most recent dream she’d had. Could there be a connection between her and the strange man?
“Ahh! There’s too many questions and not enough answers,” she said, squeezing her fingertips against her scalp. “There’s a reason I’m here, but what’s the reason Mana and Brendan are involved?”
All else aside, there was still the hyper-realistic dream she’d just had. The problem with calling it a dream, however, was that it felt too real to be something the chemicals in her brain conjured up while she was asleep. Calling it a dream felt like a grave misrepresentation of whatever it really was; it was like a strange, alternate reality—an entire world hidden somewhere in the folds of time and space.
She leaned her head against the shower wall, allowing the water to run down her face. “Get a grip, Lacia. Or… as much of one as you can get considering you’re being held captive on some strange ship in the middle of the ocean,” she retorted. “I don’t know. I mean, this is super freaky, but, so far, I don’t really feel like I’m in danger, if that makes sense.”
Worrying over things outside of her control wasn’t going to help anyone, certainly not herself. She pushed the thoughts from her mind for the moment and began washing her hair; the shampoo smelled like summer rainwater, reminding her of the days she’d stomp around in puddles as a little girl after a heavy rain. The scent made her miss home and all the late nights she’d spend texting Mana, nestled comfortably beneath her bed covers.
She rinsed her hair before grabbing a toothbrush as she applied a glob of toothpaste to the bristles; she was determined to purge the foul taste of vomit from her mouth. One vigorous dental care session later, her mouth was so minty she was convinced she’d stripped her taste buds of their ability to recognize anything other than mint.
“All that thought about my bed, though… It really makes me want one right about now, but I don’t have any pajamas, much less actual clothes anymore. Some clean underwear at the very least would be wonderful,” she grumbled. “Actually, I really could use some towels, too.”
Stumbling around the steamy bathroom, she dug through another unlocked cabinet, her wet feet slapping the tile floor. A moment later, she procured a set of cotton towels, softer than sheep’s wool; they were incredibly absorbent. She walked back to the shower stall, turned the water off, and walked back to the main door.
“Hey~! Would it kill someone to treat their poor little prisoner with some compassion? She could really use a fresh set of clothes.” The approach of angry footsteps and unlatching of the door lock caused her to step back; the door swung open, missing her face by inches. A set of freshly laundered clothes promptly sailed through the open door, nailing her in the face.
She sorted through the pile. “What? No socks? Not that I really need them, though, I guess…”
“What about a pair of socks,” the woman mocked. “How about you wear what you’re given and stop complaining? You have no rights here.”
Lacia stared at her for a moment. “Alright. No socks. Got it. So, what about a br—” She was interrupted by a stare from hell.
“You’re too flat to need one,” the woman said, insultingly. “You have five minutes. Knock when you’re finished.”
Lacia frowned but decided to keep her thoughts to herself. The perfect fit of her new clothes was not reassuring. Someone had taken her measurements without her knowledge—or consent. Was it the strange man, or was it the woman? Either way, she shuddered at the thought.
“Creepy…”
She finished dressing as she gave the door a couple quick knocks. The door swung open again, missing her by less than an inch this time as the woman stood in the doorway. She looked Lacia up and down, examining every square inch of her body.
“Hands,” she commanded.
“Huh?”
“Give me your hands.”
Confused, Lacia held her hands out as the woman bound them together with extra rope on the end as a sort of makeshift leash. "Oh, this should be real exciting. This woman would totally hit me if she could hear the sarcasm oozing into my thoughts right now.”
Lacia willingly followed the woman, allowing several feet of slack in the rope as she followed behind. Everything had happened so fast earlier; all she could remember was the churning ache in her stomach.
Now that she could focus, she understood just how big the ship was, despite its narrow, cramped halls. Numbered rooms lined the hall on either side, but they remained empty, the smell of citrus and bleach once again swirling around inside her nose. The tile floors seemed like an odd design choice whereas most of the furniture was built with a wooden frame, though things had been anything but normal lately.
After what seemed like ages, the woman finally stopped in front of a closed door; the number 9 was painted onto a steel card, anchored to the wall. Beneath the room number was another, smaller card—a name was etched into it. The door swung upon with a loud whoosh before Lacia could read the name as she was yanked into the room, bombarded by the same overwhelming stench of citrus and bleach—twice as strong as out in the hall.
The woman stood at the foot of a small bed, motioning for Lacia to lay down. She considered yanking on the rope herself, hoping she might catch the woman off guard; she’d make a run for it, find a life raft, and escape the confines of the hellhole she’d found herself in.
“And where would I go? There’s nothing but open water out there, I’m sure. I’d probably just die from dehydration,” she thought.
Reluctantly, she decided to oblige the strange woman. Her only other alternative was to attempt a grand escape, but that was dependent on the availability of a way to get off the ship to begin with. With an inaudible sigh, she dragged her feet through the doorway; the icy floor robbed her of every morsel of body heat as she traversed the dark floor on her tiptoes. She glanced at her reflection, fractured like ripples in water. Was the disheveled appearance of her refection a metaphor for the chaos her life had become or was it foreshadowing something else, entirely—something dark?
“You know, socks of some sort would be nice. I’m freezing and so is this floor,” she said, seating herself against the headboard of the bed. “I don’t care if it’s socks, tights, or if you just want to turn the air conditioning off. It’s cold in here, and I feel like I’m going to freeze to death.”
Ignoring Lacia’s request, the woman tied her end of the rope to the footrails of the bed as she rummaged through a small cabinet on the other side of the room. A moment later, she emerged with a thin, metallic wristband; an LED screen flickered to life. Her name, room number, and random string of numbers scrolled across the screen.
“Hold out your arm,” the woman demanded.
“No thanks.” She sat on her hands, determined to win this new game of chicken, but alarm bells rang in the back of her mind.
One resounding slap later and she was rubbing her cheek; a red handprint sweltered against her skin. Stunned by the sheer force of the slap, Lacia stared into space, mouth agape. The woman seized the opportunity, fastening the wristband to her arm as it locked with a soft click. New numbers appeared across the display, registering everything from blood oxygen level to body temperature and heart rate. A brief message appeared onscreen: Lacia Amana—Guest No. 09 Registered.
“What is this thing and why did you put it on me?!” Lacia demanded, staring at the wristband. "Not very flashy," she mumbled, still rubbing her cheek.
Without warning, another red handprint stung her other cheek. “You are a nuisance,” the woman said, “and I’m tired of dealing with you already. I wish I were assigned to one of the other guests,” the woman whined. “I don’t see why you’re so special, to be honest.”
“Yeah, well, the feeling’s mutual,” Lacia retorted. “I’m sure you guys get an absolute kick out of holding me captive and treating me like some research subject.”
The woman raised her hand again, ready to strike. “Just stop talking.”
“I swear to god if you hit me one more time, it won’t be me who’s stuck in a room with nowhere to go,” Lacia said, ignoring the warning.
The woman sneered. “Oh, is that so? Well, I think you need to learn some manners and proper, lady-like etiquette.” She dug around in the same cabinet from earlier, procuring a large syringe filled with a clear liquid; the needle alone was menacing enough as it glinted in the light from the doorway. “I’ll give you five seconds to take back what you just said.”
“And I’ll give you five seconds to put that syringe back. I am not letting you put that in my body. In fact,” she said, raising her voice, “you people are absolutely insane! I—”
The woman moved the length of the room faster than Lacia could blink, catching her off guard. She felt a small pinch in her arm.
“What was in there?” she said slowly. Her gaze was fixated on the now-empty syringe.
“Nothing you’ll ever hear me talk about. Really, it makes no difference,” the woman said in a lofty voice. “My name is Cherri, and I’m going to make sure you learn to hate my visits.”
“What are you? My registered nurse or something?” Lacia said saracastically.
“Perhaps, though I don’t think that term is all-encompassing enough,” Cherri bragged.
Lacia’s eyes had already started to grow heavy. The room spun each time she tried to fight the ensuing sleep as it stripped her of lucidity. The line between reality and dream-like blurred; she wasn’t sure if the conversations she was having were real or just the chemicals in her brain playing tricks on her.
“Aww, look at you. Can’t even keep your eyes open anymore. Well, I suppose this is goodnight for now, then.”
“I…” Lacia tried to reply but consciousness was fleeting as she fell victim to sleep.
“I don’t even get paid to do this,” Cherri mumbled. “Ungrateful little pests…” She locked the door to Lacia’s room, a faint click bouncing off the cold, concrete walls.
To Mana’s surprise, Brendan had mentioned someone he thought might be of help in their search for Lacia. While she’d have preferred to continue their trek north, she trusted Brendan’s judgement. Unfortunately, she didn’t realize the drive to southern Alura would be so grueling. Easily carsick, she spent much of the trip hanging her head out of the passenger window, or bent over on the side of the road, feeling like she could vomit at any moment.
Brendan had been forced to detour, in hopes of finding an easier route, only to end up lost in the thick forests of southern Alura. By the time they navigated back to the main roads, two days had passed. Mana knew she was partially to blame for the delay, but she hadn’t expected to get so sick. On the bright side, they were only a handful of miles from their destination—a small port town located off the southern tip of the country.
The remainder of the drive wasn’t bad, but it felt like another world entirely: willow trees hung over the road like curtains; the humid air felt like a wet blanket. Once they broke through the thick overhang of branches and shrubbery, a glistening ocean filled the surrounding area.
Mana’s jaw dropped. She was mesmerized, watching as the sun’s reflection on the water’s surface traveled alongside the car. Pieces of driftwood and clumps of seaweed lashed the shoreline, carried in by the waves. She imagined southern Alura must have once been home to pirates and thieves. These days, however, it was nothing more than a run-down dump. Despite the natural beauty of the landscape itself, trash had been tossed onto the road, and weeds grew through the asphalt. Many of the homes that lined the shoreline had either collapsed or were flooded; it seemed no one had bothered to remove their belongings either, seeing as children’s toys, wooden furniture, and other miscellaneous junk floated just offshore.
Several minutes later, the town came into view; Mana doubled down on her conviction of pirates and thieves. It looked identical to the shanty towns she’d seen in pirate movies. Yellowed, wooden buildings dotted the landscape, secluded beneath the branches of the willow trees. A badly damaged dock at the edge of town looked like it was ready to fall into the ocean at any moment. Frayed ropes held the boards together, but some were so rotted, any unsuspecting person would likely fall straight through.
An old street sign pointed towards the town, though the words had been faded by years of sun exposure. She’d expected cobblestone streets and barrels overflowing with sweet rum. Instead, the streets were mostly dirt as rats scurried through the filth, digging their noses into empty glass bottles and other trash.
Truthfully, she wanted to get out and explore the town, investigating every alley as she searched for any clues to its past—a strong sense of adventure. On the other hand, her brain told her there was a good chance she’d find herself on the receiving end of some drunken pirate, eager for someone to mug. If Brendan hadn’t literally dragged her out of the car, she would have been just fine watching him from the windshield; she vowed to handcuff herself to the door next time.
“So, who is this ‘friend’ you’re looking for?” she asked. “I mean, how are they going to help us get Lacia back?”
“His name is Licht. He knows the seas like the back of his hand and is really good around maps,” Brendan replied.
“Ok, but Lacia is in the middle of the ocean, right—from what we can tell. Not the sea.”
Brendan rolled his eyes. “I know that’s a genuine question, but I think you’ve seen too many pirate movies. There is a difference between an ocean and a sea.” The last week had been pure chaos; Mana’s lack of terminology was a welcome reprieve. “I should warn you, though,” he continued, “he’s had a bit of a past with the law. Nothing major, but you know how people get when they’re drunk.”
“Oh, great. Just what I need. An alcoholic who loves to make noise. My two favorite kinds of people.” Brendan gave her a sour look. “Sorry… Bad joke.”
They ventured over to an old bar that stood on the outskirts of town; it was likely a popular place in its prime. Brendan walked inside without hesitation, and, to Mana’s dismay, he dragged her in with him. Grey floorboards were covered in dust as cobwebs made their homes in the corners of the ceiling. Tables and chairs were neatly aligned throughout the bar, equidistant from one another; they looked as if they’d been cleaned off recently, free from the same dust that caked the floor. Still, the place looked like it’d seen better days. Dusty, web-covered bottles of alcohol glinted on the wooden shelves behind the counter; tinted, amber-colored mugs longed to be filled again, placed inside a glass case—forgotten about.
“Brendan!” Mana whispered. “There, on the corner of the bar— What is that?”
The corner of an old, paper napkin rustled beneath a large rock; someone had placed it there purposefully—a makeshift paperweight. Carefully, Brendan lifted the rock and grabbed the napkin, leaving a dust-free corner on the bar. He opened the napkin. It was a note, addressed to him.
“I knew you’d come looking eventually, my friend. If you’re reading this note, that means I’m currently out. If this note is more than 2 weeks old, I just forgot to remove it and I’m probably downstairs napping or at the docks on the southern end of town trying to catch my next meal.” –Licht
“Considering how clean this corner is, I bet he’s at the docks, like the note said,” Brendan concluded. “Let’s go.”
“Ok, but I’m not eating fish for dinner. I still have road snacks, I think…” Mana said, rummaging around in her bag. “Or not…”
“Fish it is!”
“I’d rather starve,” she moaned, “but I’m so hungry…”
Licht was exactly where the note said he would be. He was thin but he didn’t look a day over twenty-one—not even his scraggly beard and shaggy hair could age him a day. Though his clothes were stained with dirt and ragged, he looked like he was living his best life. A fishing net had been tied to the pier as he tossed it into the water, humming the whole time.
“He really seems to be enjoying himself,” Mana whispered. “Like, he looks totally happy where he is. Do we really want to disturb him?”
“Hey, he could be your next best, uhh— Never mind.” Brendan put a hand on Mana’s shoulder. “He’s a great guy. Trust me.”
“If he’s as great as you say he is, then I have no complaints, I guess,” she sighed. Considering this guy lived way out in the middle of nowhere, she couldn’t fault herself for her apprehension.
Brendan smiled. “Licht!” he called.
He temporarily lost his balance, startled by Brendan’s voice. His face lit up as he turned around and waved. “Brendan! How are you?” he shouted, placing the remainder of the fishing net in the water. “How long has it been since we last saw each other?
Brendan nodded. “I,” he paused, bringing Mana into the conversation. “We’re doing pretty good, despite all the crazy shit as of late.”
He turned to introduce Mana as Licht walked up, but she was gone. Panic set in, thinking she’d fallen into the water, but the water’s surface was calm; she couldn’t have fallen in—he’d heave heard the splash.
“If you’re looking for your friend, she’s right next to you,” Licht laughed.
“Huh? Oh,” she mumbled, embarrassed. She’d crouched down to admire her reflection in the water. “Sorry, let me, uh, introduce myself,” she said, standing up. “My name is Mana, it’s nice to meet you.”
Licht grinned. “A fine young woman, Brendan, and she has excellent manners. Quite the catch!”
Mana’s face flushed. “Oh, um— No. We’re not like that, sorry. I don’t think I—”
“Aaanyways,” Brendan interjected, changing the subject, “we actually have a problem, and we really need your expertise. You know just about every craft that sail these waters, and with your knowledge of the oceans around Alura, we thought you be able to help us out.”
“I can do my best, but I don’t think that thing’s gonna be of much help if you’re needin’ a boat,” Licht said, pointing to a small wooden boat.
“That’s not quite it,” Brendan laughed. “Have you seen any strange craft around here lately or seen anything out of the ordinary?”
Licht paused for a moment. “No, not that I can think of.”
Brendan’s smile turned into an aslant frown.
“However,” Licht said, continuing, “I think I might have somethin’ you’d find interesting. Here. Somethin’ tells me this is important to you.” He handed a small, sky-blue ribbon to Mana.
It was stiff and had lost much of its elasticity. The heavy stench of salt filled her nose as she turned the fabric around in her hands, rubbing the roughed-up ribbon over her palm. Though it had lost much of its color from the salt and sun, there was no doubt it had originally been the same color as Lacia’s hair ribbon.
“Thar ain’t somethin’ that washes up on my shores all the time. When I found it, there was still a hair stuck to it,” he explained. “It looked as if it had been tangled in the wind or somethin’, but the hair definitely ain’t mine,” Licht said.
Mana held the ribbon up to her chest. “You see, our friend was taken from us about two weeks ago now, and we don’t know who took her or where they went. She means the world to me; I’m her best friend, and I let her down,” she said, fighting back tears. “This ribbon is hers. It has to be.”
Brendan turned to Licht. “Will you come with us? We could really use your knowledge and analytical skills. You’d know more about the oceans than we do.”
“Hmm… Why not? This little place doesn’t have much left for me, anyways. Givin’ you two a hand sounds like it could be an adventure!”
“Great!” Brendan replied. “This was as far as I could trace her mana trail, but it seemed just as strong while we were driving north. I don’t know. It seems strange, but the trail has been growing weaker by the day. Fortunately for us, though, you happened to be along the same route.” He stared out across the horizon; a sea breeze blew his hair back. “She’s out there somewhere. Finding her will be the hard part.”
He took a step back, steadying himself. Maybe it was just the roll of the waves, but he swore he felt a small shake—stronger than he’d expect from the battering of the waves against the pier. An earthquake? There weren't any signs of structural damage, though, and the shaking had stopped. Even so, it was still—too still. The sound of the waves had stopped, the wind in the trees was barely noticeable—even the familiar squawking of seagulls had come to an abrupt end.
“Hey, guys,” Mana said, “I think we should get going—something isn’t right. I… can’t really say why, but we should go.” She shifted her weight from foot to foot.
“I’ll be the last to argue with your intuition, especially after all we’ve been through lately,” Brendan said.
“Hold on a second you two,” Licht said. “I have this little radio here. If the Misses said something wasn't right, then…” He pulled a small hand-crank radio from his tacklebox.
“...Warning… All… Evacuate…” The radio promptly died upon issuing its warning, but it was enough.
A large flock of seagulls scattered from the docks, taking the group by surprise as the water began to retreat. The sea breezes grew warm and dry, absent the usual humid blast of moisture. A white line appeared on the horizon as the trees began to sway again, but not from the sea breeze. It was faint, but the ground seemed to vibrate.
“Get off the docks,” Mana said, staring at her feet. “That… was an earthquake, and it was a big one.” She looked at Brendan and Licht. “We need to leave!”
The trees began to sway with violent fervor. Brendan and Licht dove for the shoreline just as the pier broke off into the muddy bed below. Without warning, a cloud of salt blasted the group. Mana lost her balance, the salt stinging her eyes, before she slammed into the trunk of a nearby tree.
“Brace yourselves,” she shouted.
Not a moment after the words left her mouth, the ground erupted into a chaotic frenzy of shaking and rolling. Seismic waves leveled the town in an instant, reducing the decaying buildings into nothing more than piles of rubble.
Mana struggled to stand, but the ground rolled like waves on the ocean. It was too dangerous to stand, even if she could. Tree branches began to break as she watched on in horror. Between the approaching wall of water and dodging falling tree branches, she let her mind wander, debating which was quicker: death by water or crushed by a falling branch?
She shook her head. “This isn’t a normal earthquake. It looks like I’m the closest to the car, but we’re going to have literal minutes to get as far away from here as possible,” she thought.
Brendan and Licht were just as caught as she was, pinned to the ground underneath another nearby tree. Her eyes grew wide as the sound of uprooting trees added to the cacophony of sounds. The roar of the approaching tsunami was creeping closer; combined with the rumbling from the quake itself, she wondered if the ground would swallow them instead.
After another couple of terrifying minutes, the shaking stopped. Mana bolted for the car; Brendan and Licht followed her lead. The car was the only way out of town, but the roads had been torn to shreds and littered with debris. Was there a way out of town?
Frantically, she climbed into the car. “Thank God, you left the keys in the ignition, Brendan, and thank God you parked it away from the trees.” Licht and Brendan climbed into the backseat seconds later. “Is there high ground anywhere? High enough to survive the water?” She asked, putting the car in drive.
Licht shook his head. “The land around here is flatter than flat. You won’t find high ground.”
“Which means floor it, Mana!” Brendan exclaimed.
Mana was way ahead of him. She slammed her foot on the gas pedal. If there was a way out of town, she’d find it, even if it meant forgetting the concept of roads entirely.
“Hope you buckled up,” she said. “You’re going to fly around the car if not.”
She bit her tongue as she ran over a large hole. The bitter taste of blood filled her mouth, but it was a small price to pay if it meant they could avoid getting washed out to sea.
“Thank god Ryan found the one car with four-wheel drive and off-road capabilities,” she thought, white knuckling the steering wheel. “If we make it, I swear I’m never visiting another shanty town in my life.”
The tsunami had leveled everything. Uprooted trees blocked the road behind them, though the road itself had been washed out. If they’d left even ten seconds later, there was a chance they wouldn’t have made it. Water lapped at the road, brown and muddy. It was as if it were trying to reach out, hoping to drag them in.
Instinct or not, Mana thanked her lucky stars they were uninjured, not to mention alive. She commended her veteran racing game skills, weaving in and out of fallen trees, drifting around corners, and shifting gears over dirt roads; if she’d lost even a second, it would have been game over. She’d managed to stay ahead of the water, or, at least, the deepest parts. She’d panicked once the water reached the tires, but quickly fell away a minute later once the car hit the highway.
Her eyes were practically glued to the rearview mirror as she watched pieces of metal bend around the trunks of trees, submitting to the force of the water. She’d never forget the mind-numbing screech it made, like nails on a chalkboard. The look of terror on Licht and Brendan’s faces reminded her of horror movie jump scares; they were whiter than a ghost, beads of sweat dripping down their foreheads.
After making sure they were safe, she pulled off to the side and looked out over what was once dry land. The trio watched as entire sections of the highway crumbled away, falling into the ocean. Mother Nature was powerful, but this seemed excessive. Either way, no one would be travelling south for a while.
“I wonder if that guy, Ryan, is okay. Maybe it wasn’t as bad where he is,” she thought. “Honestly, if you were to ask me what the difference was between a bomb and a tsunami in terms of damage, I don’t think I could tell you.”
She pulled her phone from her bag, hoping for even the faintest cell signal… and she got one. The internet and news media were ablaze with disaster coverage. A drone relayed footage of the devastation; the water was so full of debris there was a strong chance it could support a person’s weight if they were to walk across it.
“Are you guys watching thi—” She jumped. Brendan and Licht had been peering over her shoulder, eyes affixed to the phone screen. “Ok. New rule,” she said. “No creeping over my shoulder without my permission.”
“My bad,” Brendan said, “but, yeah. I can’t believe it. Where is the footage from?”
“The broadcast says it’s out of West Cove. That’s about four hours southwest of Azalea,” she explained. “So—"
“Approximately fifteen minutes north of Oldbreak,” Brendan piped up. “We’re probably about half an hour out if we want to head there, but anything on the west coast may not be a good idea right now.”
The broadcast changed. A map appeared on-screen, a tiny circle estimating the epicenter of the earthquake; estimates on the loss of life, property, and overall damages scrolled across the bottom of the screen. As if the earthquake and tsunami weren’t enough, the broadcast pivoted to another breaking news story: “Mystery Illness Strikes Town of Azalea.”
“Okay, now that’s odd,” Mana thought. “Wasn’t there supposed to be some cloud of radiation from the nuclear plant north of town? What gives?”
New drone footage showed extensive damage to the nuclear plant Ryan had warned them of before leaving, but the reports she was expecting to hear and images she was expecting to see didn’t line up. Breaking headlines warned of some mysterious illness; Ryan had said it was a cloud of radiation they should be afraid of. There was a nuclear powerplant to the north of Azalea, but it hadn’t been in operation since before Mana was born. If there was such a leak as Ryan suggested, wouldn’t there be some kind of emergency response? Where were the workers and hazmat suits?
To make matters worse, the current news broadcast told yet another story: The parking lots were barren, faded parking stripes adding tinges of white to what had become a desolate wasteland of grey concrete. Even the perimeter fences were rusted over and full of holes. If there truly was a leak, the reactor’s cores would have to be in place still—but they weren’t. In fact, there were no cores.
“None of this actually makes any sense,” Mana said under her breath.
A news anchor broke in: “Officials are confirming positive tests of a mystery illness in Azalea. We’re told the positive tests include the sailors from the missing vessels that appeared two weeks ago. They are now under quarantine and constant surveillance.”
Mana turned around. “Brendan, are you hearing this? They’re talking about the two boats that showed up in the middle of town the same day we met.” She paused. “Brendan?”
“You might want to see this first, little miss,” Licht said.
Brendan stood directly behind her, but his gaze was glued to the horizon. At first, she thought it was some kind of lame joke—until he pointed at the sky. Something in her peripheral vision shimmered as it raced across the blue plane, arcing like lightning. It was faint; if she looked directly at it, it would blend into the sky, and she’d lose it. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as a strange fissure appeared on the horizon.
“Ok,” Mana said, addressing Brendan, “let me make this even weirder since I guess there’s no limit now... Brendan, you remember that supposed cloud of radiation that Ryan warned us about, right?”
He nodded. “Yeah. What about it?”
“Take a look at this broadcast. The plant looks like it hasn’t been operational for years, and the fence is completely rusted out. What’s even stranger is there’s no emergency response. Weird, right? Why do you think that is?” she asked rhetorically.
“Yeah, I’d say that’s definitely weird, but I can’t really say why that is, if that’s what you’re asking.” His answer didn’t satisfy her. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
“The same day we met, there were two fishing vessels that had washed up in the center of town, right? Ryan warned us about a cloud of radiation, but here’s the weird part: This drone footage is of the power plant, but the headline is talking about something else entirely.” She took a breath. “The sailors of the two vessels are alive, but apparently, they tested positive for this mystery illness. Why are we being told one thing and shown another?”
Brendan ran his hands through his hair. “You’re right. That doesn’t make any sense at all…” He turned to Licht. “Can you make any sense of all that?”
He put his hand to his chin, still fixated on the fissure in the sky. “Well, it sure sounds like your little group got mixed up in some pretty wild stuff. What I can tell you, you already know. We ain’t getting the full story.”
Brendan gave him an aslant frown. “You know, you don’t have to keep using that accent. Like, where did you even pick that up from? There was no one else in town, and I doubt someone coerced you into talking like that. Besides,” he added, “it doesn’t suit that massive brain of yours. You sound so dumb, bro.”
Licht laughed. “Eh. It’s whatever, though I suppose you have a point. On that note, I don’t suppose you have a razor, do you? If I’m gonna drop the accent, the beard goes with it.”
“I don’t actually have a use for one, so, no,” Brendan replied.
Mana inserted herself into the conversation, abruptly changing the topic. “Where’s the nearest town from here, Licht?”
He stood in silence for a moment. “Hmm… Technically, Oldbreak, but Seria is one of the most popular hubs on the east coast. It would have more accommodations.”
“Great, I’m famished,” she said, “you need to shave, and I’m sure Brendan would like a little time to refocus on Lacia’s mana trail.”
The sun had begun to set in the western sky, and she didn’t want to arrive in a city that was likely already beginning to fill with refugees—not in the dark. The city would be busy regardless, but with any luck, they could avoid any nighttime traffic hassles and, hopefully, find lodging before the hotels filled up.
“I’m leaving with or without you guys,” she shouted, “so let’s go.” She was already climbing into the car as Brendan and Licht scrambled into the backseat once more.
The flood water gradually faded into the distance the further she drove. While she was happy to add an additional member to the group, she remained steadfast on her quest to find Lacia.
“We’re doing everything we can to find you, I promise,” she thought to herself.
Without warning, an eerie voice popped into her head—soft and sweet, but straight to the point: “What would you sacrifice to bring her back?”
She checked the rearview mirror to see if maybe Brendan or Licht were messing with her, but they were deep in conversation, hushed whispers barely audible over the sound of the air conditioning. She glanced at the radio next, but it was off, and her phone was set to silent.
“What the hell? Am I losing my mind?” she mumbled.
The voice came again, more forceful: “What would you sacrifice to bring your friend back? Will you leave her?” it interrogated. “What if you could wish her back? Wish all of this to be… over?”
She gave a breathy reply. “Yeah… If it was that easy, I would have done it by now, but someone has to be realistic…”
The voice riddled back. “Under a bed of water, I lay in waiting. I can be seen twice a day. Find what you cherish most and unlock the door to the grand maze.”
“Oh boy… Convoluted riddles—just what I need.”