Chapter 1-Tower Muses

The boy on top of the tower stared into his fire. It danced in his tired and empty eyes, twisting and wavering in the crosswinds.

The sun, or what passed for one, had set, the sky dark. But not navy blue or black. It was like the sky was some huge, used bandage, dark red with dried blood. The stars, if there were any, were blotted out. There was no moon. And 12 hours from now, when the sky would be at its brightest, he knew there'd be no sun, either.

The fire, low and orange, threw shadows across the floor, various pieces of debris seemingly alive, dancing in their own shadows. The boy had started it for warmth. In this barren place, the cold was constant and all pervading, like the first winter chills. Not cold enough to make him shiver, but at night, definitely cold enough to warrant a fire. And it was for security, too.

If fire drove them away, he didn't know, and he had no intentions on finding out. The sky was dark but the area itself was always lit enough to see, like a giant and invisible dim light bulb provides illumination for miles. As far as he knew, whether or not the sun or moon were here, there was always that low light.

He hated it. It pained his eyes.

He stared into the fire now, the only break his eyes got from the monotony of the light. Jalen planned to sleep at some point. He was tired enough. But now wasn't a good time. He was waiting.

15 minutes passed. His watch, the first artifact from his old life still with him, read half past midnight. He set his watch to 7 in the morning on his first sunrise and had been running with that ever since. It would be another 6 or so hours, then, until morning. He was hungry and needed water, but that would have to wait.

He stoked the fire with a length of rebar. It crackled and popped. The fuel was running low. He gathered more from the pile set next to him. They were thick papers, with a language he didn't understand scribbled on them. It didn't even look like a language he knew. He just tossed them onto the fire and it briefly flared, popping and crackling.

Wood would've been a better fuel, but there was little wood where he was.

For all around him a city.

And for as far as the eye could see, the city spread, and spread.

The buildings were constructed strangely. Some were low and flat, like slabs of concrete laid on the ground. Others were thin and tall- winding and twisting through the air. Jalen was maybe 1000 feet in the air where he sat, the cold crosswinds whispering around him. There were a few buildings that were at least double that height. Some folded at angles that didn't make sense. Others were shaped almost like letters. If there was a rhyme or reason to the city's design, he couldn't find it. It was completely random.

And for the two weeks he'd been here, not once had he seen another person.

Or a sign of people living here.

Or a sign that people had lived here, for a very long time.

For all intents and purposes, the city was abandoned.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

But Jalen wasn't alone.

He heard the first screech.

The night had been dead silent, save for the wind and the fire but now that quiet was shattered. Some animal, far below, had called. Jalen lived near a small forest for most of his life. He'd heard the occasional owl hoot, snake's hiss. This, in a sense, was familiar. It was a cross between a cicada's grind and a scream. He'd heard both before, just not at once. That was new.

But in this city, it was the norm.

Another call joined that first one. And that was joined by another one. Soon, the silence of the night was replaced with a cacophony of ear splitting calls. Not all of them were the same-some were the grinding screams. Somewhere howls. Some sounded like honest to god human screams. Jalen didn't go to check to see if they were. He heard too many at night and none during the day. If they were human, he didn't want to meet them.

Then there was the violence.

Even from up above, he heard them. Glass breaking. Snarling. Something large would crash into the building and the tremors would travel up, shaking him. The flame wavered.

On his first night, Jalen was beyond terrified. The all enveloping noise surrounding him, suffocating him. He was certain he was going to die. He managed to gather debris to block the single door that gave roof access, and even then was still terrified. But now...

He just scowled. He tossed more papers over the fire, and laid down. Now he could sleep.

Each night, around this time, they would fight. Animals, aliens, monsters...whatever they were. The sole inhabitants of the town. He didn't see much of them-they came out of hiding during the night, and Jalen only moves about during the day. That wasn't going to change. And each night he would wait for them to start fighting. He didn't know why. The first night was so terrible that he stayed up the whole thing. Same with the second night.

But now, he can't sleep without it. It sounded morbid, but also made sense in his head. The monsters fought down there, distracted. He slept up here, away from them. If they remained silent the whole night, it would mean something had changed...and that was the last of what he needed. It would call for a new set of plans-meaning he'd run. Where to? He didn't know. He didn't have many options one fifth of a mile in the air.

But that wasn't for him to worry about tonight.

So, he slept to the roars and the growls of the beasts, all of them blending together into a single, terrible voice of the city.

^^^

His alarm, on chime on his watch, sounded at 7, that following morning.

He sat up. The sky brightened. Smoke curled from the smoldering remains of his fire. It lasted well through the night and probably died just a few minutes before he woke up. He glanced at his supply of fuel for it. He was running low. His thermos, the second and last artifact of his old life, was empty. That needed to be refilled too. He'd no more food, either.

He rubbed his forehead and sighed, standing.

"Oh, boy. Grocery time." He stretched, and something thudded lightly against the floor. He glanced down to see his wallet.

He stared at the black square of leather a long time before moving. How long had he been carrying it for? And how hadn't he even noticed?

The boy squatted down to go through it. Money, maybe 30 dollars, some membership cards... his own eyes.

He blinked, staring back at himself. In his hand was his school ID.

He read the information as it was displayed:

Jalen Riviere

St. Agnes Private School

Sophomore Year

The boy called Jalen stared back into the tired and empty eyes. It had only been two weeks, roughly, since he'd entered this place. But the boy on the card, smiling, his eyes bright, could've been a photo from another lifetime.

In a way, it kind of was.

He sighed. It was time to go. He was burning day time. He grabbed his trusty weapon-a rusted length of rebar, slightly sharpened at one end, and a sack he'd fashioned out of curtain's cloth a few days prior. He moved aside the debris, then began his long descent down the tower.