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EMBERFALL

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The market square used to be filled with life—families strolling, vendors calling out prices, children darting between stalls with laughter echoing off the walls. The air once smelled of fresh bread and spices, the kind of warm aroma that made even a bustling city feel like home. Now, it was a hollow shell of its former self.

Jordan wove through the square, keeping his head down, his cap pulled low over his face. Vendors murmured in hushed voices, their eyes darting skyward every few seconds, watching for the silent drones that drifted above, casting eerie shadows over the square. Faces were hidden, heads bowed, shoulders hunched. No one dared linger, and no one met each other’s eyes. The square had become a ghostly reflection of its past, drained of color, life, and hope.

Every so often, Jordan heard the faint whirring from above—a camera lens adjusting, tracking movement, the soft hum of rotors. It was a sound that had become as common as birdsong used to be, a constant reminder of Kane’s rule, hovering over them all. Jordan had learned to avoid eye contact with the drones and the agents. It was the only way to stay invisible in a city where the wrong glance or moment of hesitation could get you noticed. And being noticed was dangerous.

In his arms, he clutched a small bag of supplies close to his chest: a stale loaf of bread, a can of beans, and a handful of dried fruit. Food was rationed harshly in Emberfall, and only the lucky few managed to scrape together enough for more than a day’s worth of meals. These meager supplies were hard-earned, obtained with hours of waiting in line, shifting his weight, eyes constantly scanning for any sign of trouble. For Jordan, this bag wasn’t just food; it was survival—a day or two of peace for his mother, Sara, and his little sister, Maya.

As he glanced up, his eyes scanned the market, seeing the familiar, weary faces. Many of the vendors had aged before their time, their faces etched with lines of worry, their eyes hollow and tired. Under Kane’s regime, everyone looked older, as though the years weighed heavier here than anywhere else. Jordan quickened his pace, pulling his hood lower as he rounded the corner toward his apartment block, doing his best to avoid the attention of the guards stationed at the checkpoint down the street.

Just as he approached his building, a flash of red caught his eye—a small van parked across the street, unmarked but unmistakable. Enforcement. His stomach clenched as he recognized the dark, reflective windows, the sleek, lurking shape of the vehicle. The sight of it sent a chill down his spine; they rarely bothered with neighborhoods like his unless they had a specific reason.

Heart racing, Jordan slipped inside, his mind spinning with questions. The feeling of being watched, of being hunted, pressed down on him, making the air feel thick and unsteady. As he climbed the stairs, every creak seemed louder, every shadow more sinister. Had someone reported them? Enforcement relied heavily on informants—neighbors turning in neighbors, friends selling each other out for food vouchers or safety. He hated that thought, but he knew how people had been forced to turn on each other just to survive. In Emberfall, no one was safe from suspicion. No one could be trusted.

By the time he reached their floor, his breathing was shallow, the ache in his legs nothing compared to the fear clawing at his mind. He slipped inside the apartment and closed the door quietly, pressing his back against it as he took a moment to collect himself. His mother stood by the window, her expression etched with worry, her posture rigid as though bracing herself for the worst.

“They were here,” Sara whispered without looking back, her voice tight and strained. She turned to him, her eyes wide and haunted, holding a quiet desperation that tore at Jordan’s heart. “They’re looking for anyone with… ties to the past.”

Jordan felt a chill run down his spine. He had known this day might come, but he’d hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. “What did they say?”

“They asked about the family’s history,” she replied, gripping the edge of the table as though it were the only thing holding her upright. “About… my activism. They think we’re a risk.” She forced a thin, almost desperate smile. “I told them we’re no one, just a family trying to survive.”

Jordan knew the weight of her words. His mother had once fought against the regime, back when resisting Kane’s rise seemed possible. She had tried to protect a future that was taken from them anyway. Now, it was all she could do to keep them out of sight, to shield Maya from the harsh reality of a world that had stolen everything they’d once believed in.

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A heavy silence settled between them, broken only by the faint hum of a drone hovering outside. The distant sound of Enforcement agents barking orders in the streets drifted up through the window, mingling with the quiet desperation in the apartment. The world outside felt like a cage, closing in a little more with each passing day.

“How long were they here?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Long enough,” she replied, her voice shaky. “They took notes. They said they’d be back.” Her gaze drifted toward the hallway, where his twelve-year-old sister, Maya, peered out, clutching an old stuffed rabbit to her chest, her small face filled with a fear she barely understood.

Jordan crouched down to her level, forcing a reassuring smile. “Nothing’s going to happen, Maya. I won’t let them take us.”

Maya’s eyes met his, and for a moment, he saw the glimmer of trust and hope that had been dimmed by years of fear. She didn’t answer, just tightened her grip on the rabbit and looked down. That trust in her eyes stung him—trust he wasn’t sure he could live up to. But he had no choice. Protecting them was all he had left.

He rose, turning back to his mother. “We can’t stay here, not if they’re watching us.”

Sara’s gaze flickered with fear. “Where would we even go, Jordan? They’ve turned this whole city into a prison.”

“There’s someone,” he said quietly, glancing back at Maya, who was now hovering near the doorway, her small face peeking around the edge. “A friend. Elara. She used to know how to get people out. I haven’t seen her in years, but if anyone can help us, it’s her.”

Sara’s face softened, but worry clouded her eyes. “You don’t know if she’s even still… around. What if they got to her too?”

“It’s a risk,” he admitted, hating the fear in his mother’s eyes. “But we don’t have much choice. If they come back, they won’t ask questions. They’ll just take us.”

A soft knock on the door made them both freeze. For a split second, dread turned Jordan’s blood to ice. He moved quietly, signaling for his mother and Maya to stay back. He reached for the door handle, pressing his ear to the wood, straining to hear any sounds from the other side.

“Jordan,” a voice whispered, barely audible. “It’s me.”

Relief flooded through him, sharp and almost painful in its intensity. He unlocked the door and opened it a crack, letting her slip inside before locking it again.

Elara hadn’t changed much since he’d last seen her. Her hair was shorter, messier, and her eyes had a sharper edge, but she still had that quiet strength, the steady confidence that had made her a trusted ally back when everything had started to fall apart. Seeing her here felt like a miracle, as though some small part of the past had found its way back to them.

She looked around the room, her gaze softening as she took in their faces. Her eyes lingered on Sara, a silent understanding passing between them that needed no words.

“I heard they were here,” she said, her voice low and calm. “I had a feeling they’d be coming for you sooner or later.”

Jordan’s heart pounded as he realized how close they had come to being taken. The timing of her arrival felt almost unreal, as if Elara had been watching over them, waiting for the moment they needed her most.

He nodded, swallowing hard. “They want information. They think we’re a threat because of my mom’s past.”

Elara gave a short, humorless laugh, her gaze hardening. “They’re terrified of anyone who remembers what it was like before Kane took over. That’s why they’re doing these raids. They want to crush any spark of resistance.”

Jordan clenched his fists, anger flaring in his chest. “We need a way out. Can you help us?”

Elara hesitated, glancing at Maya before nodding. “There’s a chance. I know some people, and we’ve been working on ways to get families out quietly, under the radar. But it’s risky. The whole city is on high alert.”

“Risky is better than waiting for them to drag us off,” he replied, his voice steadier than he felt.

Elara took out a small tablet from her bag, tapping quickly on the screen. “Alright. We’ll start tonight. Pack only what you absolutely need, nothing more. We’ll move through a route we’ve mapped out. If everything goes as planned, we can reach a safehouse by morning.”

He glanced back at his mother and sister, their faces pale but resolute. They didn’t have much to pack; most of their belongings had been taken, sold, or lost over the years. Everything they had now fit in a single bag.

As Elara laid out the plan, the faint whirring of drones grew louder outside, circling their building. Jordan’s heart pounded as he listened, feeling the weight of the decision bearing down on him. He forced himself to focus, memorizing every detail of the escape route, every step, every checkpoint they’d have to avoid.

The city had become a prison, and escape seemed impossible, but tonight, he had to try. He looked at his family, the fear in their eyes, and the desperation that mirrored his own. There was no room for error. They had one chance, one night to break free from the shadows that had swallowed their lives.

And he would be ready for whatever lay ahead.