The group moved steadily through the deserted city, the eerie silence broken only by the occasional clatter of debris dislodged by their dragonhorses. The shadows stretched long between the towering buildings, the ruins carrying an oppressive air that seemed to weigh heavier with each step.
Jenny, riding in front of Reed on Ember, glanced up at a rusting cinema marquee. The faded lettering caught her eye: Now Playing: Vault of Shadows. She snorted softly, muttering under her breath, “Figures.”
Reed, leaning forward slightly to catch her words, raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Nothing,” Jenny said quickly, shaking her head. The sign tugged at something deep in her memory. It was old-world, a reminder of the Bunkers’ obsession with collecting fragments of the past. They had posters like that in some halls, reminders of what the surface once had. She frowned, her mind drifting before the voice of Chan broke the silence.
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“Wait!” Chan’s sharp voice cut through the stillness, his hand shooting up as he tugged at his reins. His dragonhorse snorted in protest, stopping abruptly. The rest of the group halted as Chan dismounted, his eyes locked on a nearby building.
“What is it now?” Laura asked, her tone tinged with irritation.
Chan pointed toward a partially collapsed structure. A faint flicker of light sparked within, accompanied by a low crackling hum. “That,” he said, a hint of awe creeping into his voice. “It’s a delivery drone. Or part of one.”
Jenny squinted, following his gaze. Sure enough, a damaged robot, its frame jagged and corroded, lay half-buried in rubble. A few sparks jumped from its exposed wiring, faint but unmistakable.
“So?” Laura said, crossing her arms. “It’s scrap. We need to keep moving.”
“It’s not just scrap,” Chan shot back, his voice rising defensively. “If this thing still has power, there’s a chance it has functional parts—or even data. Do you know how rare that is?”
Reed frowned, his eyes darting to the horizon where the shadows of the buildings were growing longer. “We’re losing daylight.”
“It’ll just take a minute,” Chan argued. Then he turned to Jenny. “You’ve seen tech like this before, right? You know how valuable it could be. Back me up here.”
Jenny hesitated, glancing between Chan and the rest of the group. “If it’s still sparking, it might have something useful,” she admitted cautiously. “But we don’t have time for a full teardown.”
“Just a quick look,” Chan pressed.
Before Reed could respond, a sudden blur of motion shot past them. Mewlissa leapt from her saddle sack, hitting the ground in a flash of tabby-striped fur. She bolted toward a nearby alley without hesitation, her tail flicking as she disappeared into the shadows.
“Mewlissa!” Denzel bellowed, his voice echoing through the empty streets. He dismounted immediately, his boots hitting the pavement hard. “Dammit, not now!”
“Denzel, wait!” Laura called after him, but it was no use. Denzel was already jogging after the cat, his bulk disappearing into the alley.
Reed cursed under his breath, rubbing his temple. “Perfect. Just perfect.”
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Chan tugged at Jenny’s sleeve, his voice low but urgent. “Come on, we’ve got to check the bot while we can.”
Jenny glanced at Reed, who waved a hand dismissively. “Fine, go with Chan. Just don’t take too long.” His eyes turned toward Laura as he added, “We’ll stay with the horses.”
Jenny followed Chan toward the building as Reed and Laura began securing the dragonhorses. The sound of their footsteps echoed faintly as they approached the sparking drone. Jenny’s eyes scanned the rubble-strewn floor, her muscles tense with the ever-present sense of being watched.
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The bot was in worse shape up close, its frame twisted and partially crushed beneath a fallen beam. Sparks danced from exposed wiring, and a faint, broken hum emanated from its core. Chan crouched next to it immediately, his fingers darting over the surface with practiced speed.
“Be careful,” Jenny warned, her eyes flicking toward the shadows around them. “You don’t know what kind of charge it’s holding.”
“I’m careful,” Chan muttered distractedly. He pulled out a small toolkit, prying open a hatch near the bot’s head. Inside, a dim glow emanated from a cylindrical component that looked remarkably intact. “Ha!” he exclaimed. “Power core. And it’s stable.”
Jenny leaned in, studying the piece. “That... could actually be useful.”
Chan grinned, tucking the core into his satchel. “Told you.”
Just as he was closing the hatch, his eyes caught another component nestled deeper within the bot’s frame. His brow furrowed as he reached in, gingerly unhooking the part and holding it up to the dim light filtering through the ruined building.
“What is that?” Jenny asked, her voice low and wary.
“Friend-or-foe module,” Chan said, his tone shifting from excitement to confusion. The device was sleek and compact, its casing engraved with faint serial numbers and markings that screamed old-world military. He turned it over in his hands, his expression growing more puzzled by the second. “This shouldn’t be here. A delivery bot doesn’t need something like this.”
Jenny frowned. “Military tech?”
“Looks like it,” Chan replied, slipping the module into his satchel alongside the power core. “Weird as hell, but…”
A faint clatter in the distance made Jenny straighten, her hand instinctively moving to her rifle. “No time for it out now. We really need to go.”
“Alright, alright,” Chan said, standing and dusting off his hands. “We’ll figure it out later.”
As they left the bot behind, Jenny cast one last glance at the sparking remains. Whatever this Zone was hiding, it wasn’t going to make sense—and that made her uneasy.
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Back with the horses, Reed tightened a strap on Ember’s saddle while Laura leaned against a crumbled wall, her arms crossed. “This whole thing feels off,” she said quietly, watching as Jenny and Chan disappeared into the building.
“You’ve said that about everything since we left the base,” Reed replied without looking up.
Laura’s gaze sharpened. “Because it is off. That girl—” she tilted her head toward where Jenny had gone, “—you’re too close to her.”
Reed chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re imagining things.”
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“Am I?” Laura’s tone was flat. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”
Reed paused, his hands stilling on the strap. He glanced at Laura, his expression unreadable. “She’s just... finding her place. Don’t make it into something it’s not.”
Laura smirked faintly but didn’t push further. “Just don’t let her get us all killed.”
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When Chan and Jenny returned, Reed grabbed Chan by the arm. “Come on, we need to check on the big guy. You two—” he nodded at Jenny and Laura, “—stay with the horses.”
Jenny frowned, but Reed was already heading toward the alley with Chan in tow. Laura’s smirk returned as she leaned against the wall again, her gaze settling on Jenny.
“Well,” Laura said dryly. “Looks like it’s just us.”
Jenny muttered something under her breath, her fingers tightening on her rifle as she pointedly avoided Laura’s gaze.
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Jenny sat near Ember, her rifle across her lap, fiddling absently with the harness straps Chan had made. She glanced toward Laura, who was sorting through a satchel of herbs and clippings with an air of practiced efficiency. The silence between them was thick, almost tangible.
Laura broke it first, her voice cutting through the quiet. “So, what’s your deal?”
Jenny frowned, glancing up. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.” Laura didn’t look up from her work, her tone sharp. “The whole ‘I’m on a mission from the Bunker’ thing. Sounds like a load of crap. No one sends a rookie to do anything important.”
Jenny bristled, her fingers tightening on the strap. “I can handle myself.”
Laura finally looked up, her eyes narrowing. “Sure. That’s why Reed had to save you from being chopped into tiny pieces.”
Jenny’s jaw tightened, but she forced herself to stay calm. She wasn’t about to let Laura get under her skin. “I’ve gotten better since then,” she said evenly. “And if you don’t think I belong here, take it up with Reed.”
“Oh, believe me, I have.” Laura’s gaze lingered on Jenny for a moment before she shook her head, muttering something under her breath as she returned to her satchel.
Jenny hesitated, her frustration bubbling beneath the surface. But instead of snapping back, a different question forced its way out. “How do you deal with... you know... girl problems?”
Laura froze, her hands hovering over the satchel. Slowly, she looked up, her expression shifting from suspicion to something almost unreadable. “What?”
Jenny shifted uncomfortably, her cheeks flushing slightly. “You know... periods, cramps. Stuff like that. In a world like this.”
For a moment, Laura just stared at her, the tension between them dissolving like water poured on a fire. Then she let out a long, exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Well, shit,” Laura muttered. “That’s a question.”
Jenny looked away, feeling awkward. “Forget it. It’s stupid—”
“No, it’s not stupid,” Laura interrupted, her voice softening in a way that surprised even herself. “It’s just... unexpected.” She leaned back, crossing her arms. “You want the short answer or the long one?”
“Short,” Jenny said quickly.
“Stay hydrated, keep moving, and find whatever works as a pad or tampon. Clothes scraps, moss, whatever. Oh, and stock up on painkillers whenever you can.” Laura gave a small shrug. “It sucks, but you deal with it.”
Jenny blinked, frowning slightly. “Tampons? They survived the Cleansing?”
Laura chuckled darkly, shaking her head. “Barely. If you’re lucky enough to find a sealed pack that’s not torn or soaked through, you’re golden. Those things last forever if they’re in good shape. No expiration date on something like that.” She paused, the faintest flicker of a smirk crossing her lips. “Not that the gods were kind enough to leave many behind.”
Jenny nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Thanks.”
Laura’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before she returned to her work. “Don’t get too comfortable,” she said, her voice regaining its sharp edge. “We’re still not friends.”
Jenny allowed herself the faintest smile. “Noted.”
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Reed and Chan crept through the narrow alley, the faint sound of meowing drawing them forward. The shadows seemed to press in around them, the tall buildings above blocking what little light remained.
“There,” Chan whispered, pointing toward a faint glow ahead. Blue and purple light flickered from a doorway at the end of the alley. Denzel was already there, his massive frame hunched as he tried to force the door open. Mewlissa pawed at it incessantly, her fur catching the strange light and shimmering faintly.
“What the hell is that?” Reed muttered, his voice low as he approached.
“Don’t know,” Denzel grunted, glancing back. “But she’s determined. Came straight here, no hesitation.”
Reed stepped closer, squinting at the glow spilling through the cracks in the doorframe. The light pulsed faintly, almost like a heartbeat. “Chan, any idea what we’re looking at?”
Chan shook his head, his brow furrowing as he moved closer. “Not yet. But if Mewlissa’s this worked up, it’s worth checking out.”
Reed sighed, pulling a crowbar from his belt. “Alright, let’s see what’s behind door number one.”
Denzel stepped back to give him room as Reed jammed the crowbar into the gap and began to lever the door open. The glow brightened with each creak of the hinges, casting strange, shifting patterns across their faces. Mewlissa meowed again, her tail flicking impatiently as the door finally gave way with a metallic groan.
Reed stepped back, his grip tightening on the crowbar as he peered into the dimly lit room beyond. The glow was stronger now, emanating from something in the center of the space.
“Looks like we’re about to find out,” he muttered, motioning for the others to follow as he stepped inside.
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The room’s glow pulsed steadily, washing the cracked walls and debris in an ethereal blue and purple light. The source was unmistakable: a small, intricate object resting on a raised dais in the center of the room. It wasn’t large—no bigger than a man’s fist—but its design was mesmerizing, a mix of delicate carvings and geometric precision that seemed impossibly intricate for anything from the old world.
“What the hell is that?” Reed muttered, stepping closer, his crowbar still in hand.
Chan moved in beside him, his eyes wide with fascination. “It’s... some kind of puzzle box?” He hesitated before adding, “But not like anything I’ve seen before.”
Denzel approached slowly, his massive frame seeming to shrink slightly in the presence of the strange artifact. Even Mewlissa, who had been pawing so insistently at the door, now sat quietly by his feet, her green eyes fixed on the object.
Reed frowned. “A puzzle box? What’s it doing here, glowing like that?”
Chan shook his head. “This isn’t just tech. It’s something else.” His voice was low, almost reverent. “This has to be one of them. A Trial key.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with significance. Reed and Denzel exchanged wary glances, while Chan stared at the artifact as though it held all the answers to the universe.
“Trials?” Reed scoffed. “You’re buying into that Raven Temple bullshit now?”
Chan shot him a sharp look. “You’ve seen what’s out there. You think it’s all just coincidence? The priests say these Trials are tests left by the Gods. Pass them, and you get... I don’t know, a voice in shaping the new world. Or power, or... something.”
“Or you die trying,” Reed added flatly.
“Maybe,” Chan admitted. “But this thing? It’s not here by accident.”
Denzel, who had been staring intently at the object, reached out a hand. Reed started to protest, but Denzel’s deep voice cut him off. “It called Mewlissa. She brought me here. I’m taking it.”
Reed opened his mouth, then shut it, shaking his head. “Fine. Just hurry up.”
Denzel lifted the puzzle box carefully, his fingers brushing its surface. The glow immediately vanished, plunging the room into dim light. The shift was almost deafening in its suddenness, the artifact now dull and inert in Denzel’s hands.
Everyone tensed, waiting for something to happen. A trap. A noise. Anything. But the room remained silent.
Reed exhaled sharply, his grip on the crowbar relaxing. “Alright, great. Mystery box acquired. Let’s get out of here before something decides to wake up.”
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The group emerged from the alley and back onto the main street. The daylight was fading quickly now, the shadows of the tall buildings stretching long across the cracked pavement. As they approached, Reed’s eyes landed on Jenny and Laura, both standing near the dragonhorses.
To his surprise, neither looked tense or ready to kill the other. Instead, they stood a few feet apart, quietly packing their respective bags. Laura tightened a strap on her satchel, while Jenny adjusted the harness Chan had made for her shoulder.
Reed’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow. You two didn’t kill each other. I’m impressed.” He paused, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. “What’d you talk about?”
Jenny and Laura answered at the same time, their voices overlapping with perfect disinterest.
“Nothing,” they said, both looking in opposite directions.
Reed blinked, glancing between them. “Uh-huh,” he said, his tone dripping with suspicion. “Sure. Nothing.”
“Are we moving or what?” Laura snapped, sidestepping the conversation as she swung herself onto her horse.
Jenny followed suit, climbing up onto Ember with a faint huff. Reed chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he turned to Denzel, who was carefully stashing the puzzle box in his saddlebag.
“Alright,” Reed said, his voice firm. “Whatever that thing is, let’s just hope it doesn’t come back to bite us. We need to move.”
The group set off again, the eerie quiet of the Zone pressing in around them as they rode. The Trial key now rested in Denzel’s bag, its secrets tucked away for another time—but its presence lingered, heavy and foreboding.