SILAS

The sun rises. The near-total darkness of the night recedes, replaced by a hazy, greyish-blue light which settles over everything. Above, the clouds are dark and grey and roiling, like a thick, bubbling gruel. The wind rushes forcefully against my back, whistling in high-pitched shrieks as it's caught between the two canal walls on either side of me.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

I run. Away from Sal—a pile of metal parts that used to be a person. Away from the dark, looming shape of the ship, and the machines pursuing me. Away from the past. Away from death.

Towards...I don't know.