A piercing light, shining especially from above, revealed colors of all sorts across the land and a beautiful gemstone-blue unlike the typical dullness found in caves. The world which Rye often came to started its new light cycle, meaning it was time to move once more.

He checked to make sure his bag of supplies were sufficient for two and readily packed. Then, he observed the white blobs in the sky for any hints of yellow, making sure no Mist was blowing near. After seeing everything was clear, Rye went to check up on the last, yet most important thing.

“Traz?” Rye softly said in an attempt to wake her.

Her breathing was still calm, even if she had yet to wake since he last carried her out of Venisi. He often checked up on her cuts and wounds she received from the glass, and especially checked the nasty wound on her ankle, finding it was at least starting to make progress in healing, but hardly enough to walk any time soon.

“C’mon already; it's no good missing this view.”

—For the past three days, Rye would always tell her the same thing.

Each day, he received the same response of silence. Afterward he would clean every wound, making sure to disinfect every cut to prevent any disease. He especially made sure to scrub her ankle with extra care, being it posed the largest threat than the smaller cuts. Afterwards, he would give her portions of soup and water at a time to ease digestion, though it often proved difficult at times.

“Here you go!”

Rye propped her up on his back along with the rest of the supplies, and set out across ruins of the above. Even after everything he went through, there was still a mission for him to complete, and that was to head east in search of an ancient ruin holding valuable information.

***

Rye was able to make a good distance in a matter of days. He crossed by ruins encased in groves so great it was practically impossible for caravans to traverse without special equipment, or going completely around. Then, there were swampy bogs he made sure to avoid being he couldn’t face ferocious gators with Traz on his back.

On the surface, threats almost always loomed close by. Rye was experienced with most of these dangers, but he knew better than to think he’s seen everything.

Then there was the mist. So far, he’d been lucky for the mist not showing up, but luck can only last for so long. It was better to count his blessings than to think of a nightmare.

As time passed, the once birthing light was now falling to darkness. Rye had made enough distance to land himself on the outskirts of an ancient town covered in mass amounts of plant life.

He checked his compass, to which the needle pointed east, and he sighed. This was a secluded area east he himself had yet to explore, but seemed too normal to be the area Kelli had urged the divers to explore for “important documents”.

Rye found a somewhat decent building in contact, and decided they would rest there for the night. He checked the sky before darkness came, and noticed no signs of the Mist being near for now. He laid Traz against the bags of material and supplies as a pillow for her, while he rested his back against a wall with his arms crossed.

The Above…

Rye adapted to life up here from repeated dives, so he grew used to the abrupt change from underground to fresh air, even growing to appreciate the fresh breeze each time he resurfaced for another dive.

As Rye thought of his life underground, a yawn overcame him. He glanced at Traz, making sure she was still good. She softly snored, breathing slowly in and out as she had for the past weeks, and knew he should get some rest too. Rye closed his eyes, allowing his body to doze off into the realm of dreams.

***

Memories swelled and collided from a time long forgotten. She had a feeling, or rather was experiencing, the motion of falling. It was a feeling rather unknown to her; just that it felt as if no floor had been beneath her. Though, this moment lasted a few seconds before her eyes shot wide open.

“!!”

She gasped for air as her eyes darted around her surroundings as she found herself somewhere completely unknown to her. But there was one sight which took her breath completely away:

Above, loomed an unknown terrifying array of colors. She stared, until a feeling of heaviness crossed her eyelids, causing her to blink a few times before staring right back up. What perplexed her was the thought of whether she was in a tripped out dream, or dead.

But this felt too real to be a dream, and she watched the air escape her as she gasped.

Then if this wasn’t a dream, what was she staring at? Had the ceiling of the caves been painted, or…

Then, another notion of thoughts poured into her mind:

What happened to Saash?

Is this Venisi?

Where am I now?

But what loomed over her most was:

Where is Mr. Rye?

Traz lifted herself to sit up, and instantly noticed a warm piece of cloth covering her. A notion of nausea swarmed over her as she took a moment to recollect herself before being able to stand. The cracked wooden floor and walls, the décor and furniture; it all looked too withered and broken.

She attempted to walk, but as she moved she was met with throbbing pain and unsteady shakiness, and fell aloft on her bottom. An aching soar roared in her right ankle, igniting a small memory of the shard that impaled her. A grimace, followed by a spark of shock, spread across her face.

These thoughts weren’t helping her case in finding out where she was. Letting the air enter her lungs, she felt her mind escape along with her exhale. But just as she prepared to slap her cheeks in extra preparation, a somewhat soft snuffle had caught her off-guard.

“Grgrg…”

Traz perked her head, tracing the origin of the sound by a pillar next to her…

“Mr. Rye?!”

Next to her bench slept Mr. Rye, snoring as loud as a person could ever. His arms wrapped around his body, like an old man who fell adrift in a chair, and just as soundly as one.

Mr. Rye you sleepy head! Traz giggled, covering her mouth to prevent her from waking him. She lifted herself to a steady sitting position where her ankle was somewhat comfortable to peer out from the building's windows. A span of incredibly beautiful darkness spread throughout above her, with countless beaming white dots as far as her eye could count.

This sight, this place; it was all completely new to her. Then, for a second, her mind entertained a thought. Something she had only heard of through tiny tidbits of conversation from the people, and something she never thought she would have the chance of seeing.

“The above! I’m really here!!” A joyous cry erupted as she bobbed her head back and forth, gazing from one patch of sky to the next. Myriads of thoughts entered her mind, with questions such as:

What are the white dots?!

Why are there so many of them?!

And,

Where did they all come from?!

This new world excited Traz. She wondered how anyone could not be excited?! With vast amounts of unknown, with even the texture and quality of air being described as cooler and lively, she grew to instantly love this world of the unknown.

Traz’s focus on these shining anomalies even numbed the pain for the time she recounted every bright light twenty-times over, until she finally fell asleep from excitement.

Something happened to Rye that usually never happened: He dreamt that night. A dream about the above, where he was stuck in something similar to a rail cart, but instead of metal, it was made of wood. And in this wooden rail cart was a body of water surrounding on all sides with no end in sight. The water mirrored the sky in blue while calm waves pushed his cart. Where he was being pushed to, well…

As Rye arose from his sleep, he had noticed Traz had moved about during his sleep, and felt a weight of worry lift from his heart. He went to make sure she was still breathing, and afterwards checked the sky for any signs of Mist. Both showing positive signs, Rye decided to take out salted strips of meat for a quick breakfast to prepare for the long day ahead.

“Ehhh…”

Traz softly grumbled the moment Rye unpackaged the meal. Her stomach even followed up with a growl.

“Better to start waking up now rather than later.” Rye said as he tore open another packaged meat. “Want yours warmed up or regular?”

“I don’t...mind.” Traz yawned while rubbing her eyes. “Just make it yummy.”

A few flickers of flame from a gas, and there was a heated piece of meat. As Traz went to take a bite, she blew on it a few times before fully indulging. “Yummy!” She declared with a grin.

Rye turned the portable gas stove off, and took out another package of rationed meat. Taste didn’t matter to him since the nutrients remained the same, so he ate his piece without heating it up.

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“Isn’t that nasty Mr. Rye?” Traz stared at him while eating.

“Not necessarily. Taste hardly matters if you’re still getting food in the end.”

Rye took another chew of his meat.

“This has something to do with your survival thingy you always go on about, hmm? But Mr. Rye! If you have the chance to make something better, wouldn’t you do it?”

“If it means improving survivability, then yeah. I would.”

“So what if there was something out there that you wanted, but it doesn’t have a use for surviving?”

“If it proves to not be much trouble, then I’d reach for it. If not, then I could live without it.”

“Hmm…” Traz stared at her piece of half eaten meat. “How will you enjoy things if you only go for what you absolutely need to survive?”

Rye lowered his meal to think about her question. “My enjoyment hardly aligns with necessity, and I work perfectly fine by thinking this way.”

Hearing his response caused a ferocious frown to form across Traz’s face.

“How can you say something like that with such a straight face?! If all you do is work as a ‘diver’, then you’ll only see life from a diver!” A gnawing pain grew as she shouted, but anger alone was enough for her to bear it. “Mr. Rye! Starting now, I’ll show you everything that adds onto life apart from surviving!”

To be scolded by a child nearly a fourth of his life. Rye could feel the energy, her passion, flowing from Traz.

“...fine. But I’m taking priority of your leg first over anything.” He admitted in defeat, yet still noticing her grimace when she spoke.

From there, Traz’s pout turned to a determined grin. “And I’ll ‘prioritize’ in finding something you’ll enjoy doing!”

Even after taking a grave injury and sleeping for nearly four days, Traz seemed to bounce back relatively fast.

Rye nodded as he finished eating his rations, while Traz went on about her first experience seeing the dots.

Enjoyment alongside necessity? Is this what you were always talking about, Kelli?

After having a meal to kick-start the day, Rye checked up on Traz and her leg injury. The wound seemed stable after switching out her bandages, and with no infection.

Then it was time to set out. Head east, or so Kelli had instructed him and a couple dozen of other divers. So east was where they went.

Rye figured he needed to carry Traz on his shoulders until her injury healed, and did so for some time before they found another location a little bit away from their first. They set up camp and rested on the outskirts of a town that had been half swallowed in sand, which Rye was familiar with nearby burrowing predators, and decided it was best to go through the houses rather than the open streets.

“Mr. Rye! Oh Mr. Rye! Look at this cool thingy!”

As he carefully placed each step while clearing each room of an ancient ruined house, Traz periodically exclaimed her excitement while pointing at every random object.

Her newest find was a cracked photo frame of a family of kittens surrounding a ball of yarn.

“What use would that be to me?” Rye coldly replied.

“They’re so cute! Wouldn’t you want to keep something adorable like this to bring around if we actually had one?” Traz looked at the kittens with an irresistible smile.

“Well cats, and kittens at that, would be more of a nuisance to me than help.” Rye actually had a darker idea for the kittens: Actually, they could be saved for a snack if there really was nothing else to eat.

But he decided it was best to keep those ideas away from Traz.

“These sweet things are called cats?! Teach me more about them! More!”

“Right, I forget many things that are unknown to you. Either way, these creatures are still more of a hassle to care for than you think.”

As Rye finished checking the building for any ancient relics or useful supplies, he felt a light wrap around his chest.

He looked up to meet Traz with a pouty face.

“So then it should be easy to see why having a cat would be a good thing! To give them your love and support, and for them to return the feelings! Doesn’t that sound lovely?” Traz tightened her arm grip to slow him down and think about what she said. Of course, he wasn’t even slightly hindered.

“To waste food on ‘pets’ is a ridiculous idea. Also, the notion of them returning any kind of favor is wrong. Sometimes, they’re just the same little asshole if not bigger.”

Rye continued walking as Traz made an even poutier expression.

“Cute things do have their uses!”

“Like what then?” Rye grew curious to see what kind of argument Traz would have.

“To keep us moving forward!”

Rye stopped. He glanced at Traz with a deadpan look, only staring at the little girl’s energy towards the photo.

“I may not have ever had a cat, but I know if a big part of my life was bad, Mr. Cat would be there to cheer me up! Don’t you think it would be nice for there to be something waiting for you? Just for you?”

Rye didn’t respond. How could he? He had no idea how to respond to something like that.

Rye felt her grip weaken as she nestled her head on his shoulder. He peered over to see she had energy quickly fading as her eyes slowly closed.

“All this excitement got to you I bet.” Rye patted her head. He looked back at the picture of kittens before leaving, and stuffed it into his satchel. “Having someone waiting for you does sound a little nice. Reminds me a bit of home, really…”

Thoughts of mother crossed his mind. He remembered the feeling of coming home to her, and how she never failed to greet him upon returning.

That was all he could think back to. That, and Kelli’s never ending barrage of marriage proposals. He wondered how well she was doing after their last meeting.

I’m getting too old for this. Rye thought as Traz nestled into his back.

He left the ruined city with surplus supplies, but still had no luck finding an extra gas mask. The skies were clear. Still no indicators of Mist.

There were many things Rye knew he could handle by himself. Such tasks usually dealt with a means of surviving day-to-day through the wild.

But his ideals were threatened with the sudden change of Traz. “Mr. Rye, what’s that! Oh Mr. Rye, what’s this!” The girl with seemingly infinite curiosity who questioned everything unknown to her.

Anything with an odd shape.

Anything of which her mind had not yet registered.

And of course, anything relating to ancient technology.

She berated him with question after question, and he answered every one without hesitation. It didn’t trouble him at all; in fact, he enjoyed her smile from hearing his stories and wisdom. After days of this process, it even grew to be a daily habit of answering Traz’s new question of the day.

Of course when it comes to new things, it's often to be cautious before fully opening up.

—Except Traz. Rye always ends up scolding Traz about “not touching the first thing that piques your interest” or “to ask him before attempting anything.”

And through each region they traveled in, the danger often changed with it.

In the ruins of a suburb, where nature began to mesh with ancient homes, bandits often lurked about hunting not relics, but the divers seeking them. Rye made it explicitly clear to Traz not to make too much noise through these parts, even if she had to cover her mouth from excitement.

Past the suburbs, a city's downtown district awaited, frozen in eternity. The area was similar to looking through a shattered mirror, where remnants of life could be seen, but the image of previous life lay forever shattered.

Bandits were still a problem, but were much more scarce. Most feared the much larger threat looming in the area, which was wildlife making the skyscrapers their primary nest, and the rest of the ruined city a hunting ground.

Traz was especially curious about the local wildlife that had grown to live in the above, and if there were any differences from these and the ones underground. She had trouble containing her excitement that Rye constantly had to cover her mouth from being discovered.

But they eventually crept their way through the once megacity of the ancients, and progressed further east.

As a few months had passed, Traz’s leg healed to the point where she could efficiently begin to walk on her own with the added support of a brace and crutches Rye decided to make himself using leftover appliances from ancient homes. It took some time, but she eventually grew accustomed to using them.

During their time above the surface, Rye discovered the Mist had to have been kept at bay by storms or other natural causes. There was no other explanation for this, as It had been much too long, Vinisi actually, since he'd last seen it.

Rye had always made sure there were enough supplies to survive out in the above. Especially having a gas mask to safeguard from the Mist. But he grew awry knowing her mask had been cracked dealing with Saash. Of course, he planned to give her the one he owned. But then it left to either find another, which tended to usually be quite rare, or hoping his repairs with duct tape could keep the Mist out.

“Mr. Rye? Why do you always have a strained look on your face?” Traz would often ask, catching Rye off guard every time.

Rye cleared his throat, before giving the same monotonous answer he had for her. “There’s a lot for me to keep in mind; many things really, that worry me.”

“Well, there are many things Traz doesn’t know about! And many more that even frighten her.” She peered out across the road overgrown with nature's plant life they now had been following for two weeks. “But it also doesn’t make it less thrilling to discover the purpose of every one!”

“The purpose…?” Rye was curious about what Traz meant.

“What their purpose is of course! Everything has a purpose to something, and that’s what makes everything so scarily interesting.”

Where everything had a purpose. That could also mean something is always relying on another. If that’s true, then what would rely on me…?

Rye thought, before Traz rapidly tapped against his arm.

“Hmm?” He turned to the little pale girl to his side, who wore the brightest smile he’s ever seen spread across her face.

“Hehe, just like how I rely on you, Mr. Rye! Almost like a father!”

Her words caught Rye by complete surprise. Most times, his face normally wore a blank expression. But right now...

“E-excuse me, b-but what?”

“You’re like a real dad! A bit grumpy, but that doesn’t mean you’re not nice!”

...he had no clue what kind of face he was making.

Rye stared in disbelief at Traz while she returned a puzzled expression. He gazed long enough to even see his reflection in her eyes, before everything began to get blurred.

“Mr. Rye?! W-what’s wrong?” Traz’s expression quickly turned from puzzled to worried. “I-If I did something wrong…”

It took a moment for Rye to truly understand what was going on. The blur in his eye was added with light trembling throughout his body, until he fell to his knees. Streamlines of water came in a downfall as Rye struggled to understand his thoughts.

It was then, Rye came to know what was happening to him. But Traz blurted it aloud just as the word came to mind.

“M-Mr. Rye…” Traz tapped him with a finger, confused by his sudden breakdown. “...are you crying?”

Hearing this was too much. It was everything. The weight of a lifetime, which had felt numb ever since he could remember, had suddenly tumbled upon him in an instant.

Traz stood with her make-shift crutch, idly watching the man who gave his life away to be a diver. A man who was seen as a hero back home for bringing back highly sought-after treasures of the forgotten world. A man who killed countless bandits and wildlife just to survive with his own life, blindly following the near-sighted goal of bringing relics to his home.

Leaving home, killing, and bringing back treasure for the rich; just to redo the process, continuing on this cycle for the rest of his life.

None of anything has hardly bent an emotion of mine so far, so why…

It took every bit of strength to lift his head from the ground and look at Traz. She hardly knew what else to do, so she merely put on a weak smile as she drifted her fingers through his dusty ashen hair.

...is just her smile enough to make me feel everything at once?

Traz continued patting his head. Rye flinched a couple times at first before he lost a reason to resist anymore. He cried and cried, until eventually all his strength gave out and he fell over to Traz.

“Mr. Rye? I’m sure now’s not the time, but I'm sure you would have scolded me if I cried like you are. You would say something like ‘hey, quit wasting all that precious water’ or something.”

He didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Lying in the middle of the road, he cried for reasons he failed to understand because of a girl he saw as a daughter.

He kept wasting away his tears, while she brushed his hair with her fingernails, until the two connected.

Connected as what Traz had grown to think of Rye, and what Rye had just come to discover of Traz:

—Somewhere along the way, the two had bonded to become family.