As he scanned the crowd, noting people engaged in various tasks, Sis seemed to recall something suddenly. She turned and disappeared into the main stone structure, reappearing moments later with a large, weathered sheet of paper in her hands. She carefully spread it out on a nearby table, pinning the corners down with rocks to keep it steady in the breeze. He leaned over, drawn to the rough details sketched across the map, and began to take in its grim features.
The first thing he noticed was the vast, sprawling darkness that covered most of the landscape. It seemed to claw across the map, enveloping all but a few scattered land masses, like ink soaking through fabric. Nine cities were marked in different locations, but one was crossed out with a sharp line, its name barely legible as if it had been swallowed whole.
Sis caught him eyeing the map and began to explain. "Only eight capitals are left that humanity can still inhabit,” she said, her tone heavy. She pointed at the crossed-off capital, NightsBane. "It's a pretty ironic name right? This one used to be safe. Most of us here, we came from there. It was a refuge—until the darkness started expanding faster than anyone could have imagined. When it reached the city, it consumed everything, forcing everyone who could to flee."
He followed her finger across the map as she traced a path to a patch of green, far from the remaining capitals and settled in the center of the map. "Right now, we’re here—in this isolated stretch of grassland. It’s out of the way, far from any citadels, which keeps us safer for the time being, but resources are starting to run thin."
Finally, Sis pointed to a capital positioned on the opposite side of the map from NightsBane. "That’s where we’re headed. HollowCrest one of the most secure places around, or so we hope. The journey will take us perilously close to the darkness, but with any luck, we’ll reach it before it reaches us."
The weight of her words lingered, and he found himself wondering just how much time humanity had left.
“What about these other capitals?” he asked, his finger lingering over two points on the map labeled Solara and Ashguard. “They look a lot closer. Wouldn’t that save us time?”
Brin leaned forward, scratching his chin thoughtfully as he looked over the map. "It might seem that way," he began, "but those two have their own dangers—and they’re worse than just distance."
He tapped one of the closer capitals with a finger. "This one here, Solara, is overrun. The darkness hasn’t swallowed it entirely yet, but creatures from it roam the streets. It’s become... hostile." Brin’s face tightened, as though he was recalling something unpleasant. "People who head there either don’t come back or... they come back changed."
"And this one," he continued, pointing to the second closest capital of Ashguard, "is a different story. Supplies are practically nonexistent, and the few who live there are isolated and desperate. Travelers are often met with hostility—or worse, suspicion. They’re terrified of anyone from outside and see newcomers as a threat to their fragile stability."
Brin paused and glanced over at Sis, who nodded, and he sighed. "There are rules we follow to stay safe out here," he explained. "The first rule is, don’t enter a city that’s still holding out unless you’re welcomed in. Desperation changes people, and the closer a place is to the darkness, the less you can trust it."
He watched Brin, feeling a bit of the weight behind those words. "So that’s why we’re heading to this far off capital?"
"Exactly. It’s not the closest, but it’s our best chance at finding real safety," Brin said, his voice steady but firm. "The distance might make the journey more dangerous, but at least we’re less likely to run into hostile faces along the way."
Brin’s tone dropped lower, taking on an almost reverent seriousness. “And there’s something else you need to understand. Rule number two is to stick to routes Fore marks as safe. Only Fore can move through the darkness unscathed, and if he doesn’t map a path to a place, it’s because he knows something about the dangers there that we don’t. We’ve learned—sometimes the hard way—that shortcuts usually lead to the wrong kind of encounters.”
Sis’s gaze returned to the map, and she pressed her hand over the worn paper, looking at him with a faint but determined smile. "It’s a risk, but it’s one we’ve chosen. And, well, I think you’ll find we don’t break the rules lightly around here."
As Sis and Brin laid out the rules, he couldn’t shake a strange sense of disbelief. Only a day ago, the world had been nothing but an endless void of darkness, where he’d lost all sense of direction, hope, and self. Now here he was, surrounded by people who had somehow built their lives around surviving in this fractured, decaying world—people who had become experts at navigating the constant threat that loomed at their doorsteps.
The “rules” they kept mentioning weren’t just suggestions; they were lines that separated life from the unknown dangers lurking in the dark. He felt a shiver at the thought of the shadows stretching out across the land, smothering everything in their path, and remembered with unease just how close he’d come to losing himself.
This talk of lights flickering in the distance and sounds emerging from the darkness reminded him just how different this world was from anything he’d known. No, this wasn’t about survival in the typical sense. It was about staying sane, vigilant, and united against an enemy they could hardly even see. As Sis mentioned the light that sometimes appeared when Fore was near, he felt a mix of gratitude and anxiety—Fore had saved him, yes, but he’d barely been able to understand what was happening.
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Could he really trust himself in this place?
As if reading his unease, Sis lightened her tone and stepped back from the map, a reassuring smile in her eyes. “Well, we kind of went out of order with the rules, huh?” She chuckled softly, glancing between the two boys. “Let’s back up a bit and go over some general safety tips. These might not directly relate to our overall objective, but they’re just as important.”
She leaned over the map, her finger tracing along the dark edges that marked the encroaching shadows. “First things first: always stay close to the group. The darkness is deceptive. You might think you’re fine just a few steps away, but it can swallow you whole before you even notice.”
Brin nodded in agreement, his expression serious. “And if you hear something in the dark, don’t go investigating. It’s best to leave that to Fore. He knows what’s out there, and we don’t.”
Sis continued, her voice firm yet encouraging. “Another tip: be mindful of your surroundings. If you spot a light flickering in the distance, that might be a sign of Fore’s presence. But if it’s too far off, don’t chase it. Stay put and wait for it to come to you. He doesn’t always appear when we expect him to.”
She paused, letting the gravity of her words settle in. “And lastly, trust each other. We’re all in this together, and everyone has a role to play. If you ever feel uneasy, speak up. It’s better to voice a concern than to ignore your instincts.”
Her tone softened as she concluded, “We’ve survived this long by looking out for one another. We can’t afford to forget that now.”
Sis glanced around, noting the curious stares directed at their group. She turned back to him, folding her arms with a slight smile. “Alright, that should cover the basics of our situation,” she said. “We plan to stay here for another two days to rest and take stock. After that, we’re moving on toward HollowCrest.”
She gave him a quick, assessing look, then softened. “If you need anything or have more questions, don’t hesitate to find me, Brin, or Kai. We’re here to help.” Just then, a voice rang out—a firm, older woman calling for Brin from across the camp. Brin sighed, his expression shifting from warmth to mild exasperation.
“Duty calls,” he murmured, giving a slight wave as he jogged off toward the woman.
Sis chuckled, giving a small shake of her head. “He’s always got his hands full,” she said before turning her attention back to him one last time. “Anyway, I should get back inside to handle a few things. Settle in and make yourself at home for now. Trust me, this place will feel like second nature before you know it.”
With that, she excused herself, heading back into the main structure, leaving him alone with Kai.
Kai rubbed his hands together with a mischievous grin. “Alright, now that the formalities are out of the way, let’s put you to work. There are plenty of chores to go around, and everyone here pulls their weight—even newcomers.”
He couldn’t help but smirk at Kai’s enthusiasm. “Where do I start?”
“Right this way.” Kai pointed him toward a nearby pile of firewood and tools. “You’ll be chopping wood and hauling it to the kitchen, then maybe we’ll see about getting you set up with some water-duty training. Think of it as your welcome party!”
The day quickly filled with a series of chores that were as varied as they were exhausting. Kai led him from one task to the next, explaining each one with a mix of humor and pride in the way things were done around here.
First up was chopping firewood. Kai demonstrated with a swing, splitting the log cleanly down the middle. It seemed simple enough—until his arms began to ache from the repeated motions, and he realized just how much strength it took to keep pace. After stacking logs near the cooking area, Kai then led him to help carry buckets of water from a nearby creek. The makeshift path was narrow and winding, and balancing the water buckets back to camp without spilling became a challenge in itself.
As he worked, he met more of the villagers. Many greeted him warmly, curious about the newcomer but not overly prying. One of them was a towering, broad-shouldered man named Jarl, who was reinforcing the wooden beams on one of the smaller huts.
"Ah, the newcomer!" Jarl’s voice was gruff, but his smile was genuine. He gave him a solid pat on the back that nearly knocked the air out of him. "Welcome! Just know that around here, we don’t treat anyone like a stranger for long. You pitch in, and you’re one of us." Jarl’s laughter boomed through the air, and he seemed to have a habit of offering advice even if it wasn’t asked for. He spent a few minutes demonstrating how to check for weak beams, explaining that many of these structures were old ruins they’d repurposed. "If you’re here long enough, maybe you’ll pick up some useful skills yourself."
Jarl’s kindness was echoed in several others. There was Mira, an older woman with a quick wit, who assigned him to help grind herbs and spices in the kitchen, where she held command over the cooking fire. She scolded him lightly for the size of the chunks he was crushing, but by the end, she was complimenting his determination, handing him a bit of stew to try as thanks. And there was Hal, a younger boy only a few years younger than Kai, who tagged along while he cleared debris around the camp’s perimeter, chatting about everything from hunting techniques to stories he’d heard from travelers.
By the time evening began to fall, he was dusty, sore, and more tired than he’d been in a long time. But he also felt a sense of accomplishment—a small but significant feeling that he’d earned his place here, even just for a day. As he brought his last load of chopped wood to the main camp, he found Sis waiting, arms crossed and a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“Well done,” she said, nodding approvingly. “Not everyone makes it through their first day here without collapsing.” She gestured for him to follow and led him toward a corner of the camp where makeshift sleeping quarters had been arranged. It was a simple arrangement, with a mat, a thin blanket, and a small lantern.
“It’s not much, but it’s quiet, and the roof doesn’t leak,” she said, patting the corner post. “You’ve earned some rest. Get a good night’s sleep—we’re up early tomorrow to get ready for the road.”
He thanked her, and she gave him a reassuring nod before heading off to her own duties.
Settling onto the mat, he let out a long breath, feeling the day’s work settle into his bones. He thought back on the people he’d met, each one kind in their own way and each bound to this place by a shared resilience that felt almost foreign to him. His encounters had been brief but meaningful, filled with warmth and camaraderie despite the shadow of the darkness pressing in on their lives.
As he closed his eyes, uncertainty about what lay ahead stirred within him, mingling with a strange anticipation. The faces he’d met today—their laughter, their strength—flashed through his mind, grounding him in the present even as the future remained a mystery. For now, though, the world outside could wait. In this fleeting moment, he allowed himself to rest, hoping tomorrow would bring more answers.