At the same time,
Genesisville Police Station, Genesisville, Earth.
The police station sprawled low and wide, its exterior battered by years of rain and wind. Inside, faded posters and cluttered notice boards lined the walls. The air was heavy with the scent of stale coffee and disinfectant.
Sterling Wolfe sat at his desk in the main office. Sterling's desk was a battlefield of forgotten reports and dog-eared file. A chipped coffee mug perched precariously on the edge, stained with the bitter dregs of a long-cold brew.
A small, worn photograph of a younger Sterling with a broad grin, arm around a woman, was half-buried under a stack of paperwork—its edges curling from age.
The hum of computers and occasional phone rings created a constant background noise, punctuated by low murmurs and the occasional raised voice from the interrogation room.
“So that’s what happened?” Sterling asked the young man in front of him. Neal sat hunched on a hard plastic chair, his posture defensive. The room was small and bare, a single window looking out onto the parking lot.
“Y-yes, those two men, Arnold and Ester… they were so friendly at the start,” Neal said, tears glistening in his eyes. “I never expected them to suddenly turn so…” He trailed off, staring at his shoes, hands clenched tight. “I never thought people in this world could be so… two-faced…”
Sterling’s gaze lingered on Neal. The boy's slouched shoulders, the way he avoided eye contact—it all reminded Sterling too much of Arnold in his younger years, back when he still believed he could save the kid. His hand hovered over the desk, fingers twitching with the urge to reach out, but he hesitated.
The image of Arnold's troubled face superimposed over Neal's. His voice came out softer, almost reluctant. “People aren’t always what they seem. Even after all this time, I’m still guessing who’s worth trusting.” He sighed, the heaviness in his chest growing stronger. His hands fidgeted around a half-buried picture underneath the stacks of paper.
After a moment of silence, Sterling stood up from his chair and walked towards Neal. “I’m sorry for what happened, son. You’re free to go.” Patting Neal’s shoulder. “Go on, you’re free to go,” he said, tapping the edge of his desk.
“Thank you,” Neal whispered, rising slowly, his body shivering despite the room’s warmth.
In the next room, Inspector Hansberg faced Nelson’s wrath "This is bullshit!" Nelson shouted, slamming his fist on the table. "We’re the ones suffering, and you’re acting like we’re the problem!"
Hansberg raised his hands defensively. “Sir, I understand, but—”
"And my brother? He’s just a kid! Do you even care what this is doing to him?" Nelson’s voice rose.
A knock interrupted him.
Sterling entered with a composed smile. “Hansberg, everything alright?”
“Deputy! Y-yes!” Hansberg stuttered.
“No! Nothing is alright until that bastard Arnold is caught!” Nelson continued his tirade.
Sterling’s smile momentarily faded, but he regained his composure. “He will be caught, don’t worry,” he said, calm and stoic.
“Well, you better! People have work to do… can’t come here every day until you catch him!” Nelson added with a frown.
“We understand. You and your brother are free to leave now,” Sterling said.
Nelson huffed and stormed out. Once alone, Sterling turned to Hansberg. “What do you think?”
Hansberg shifted uncomfortably as he spoke. "Their stories match up," he said, trying to sound confident but failing.
Sterling looked towards this young officer with a subtle smile. “No. I mean what do you think about the two brothers?” Sterling asked.
“…Frankly, sir, the older one is annoying to deal with; the younger one seems far more mannered,” Hansberg said with a sigh. Seeing Sterling’s glare, he quickly added, “I-I think they aren’t lying.”
Sterling chuckled. “Let’s follow them.”
Hansberg looked surprised. “But… why?”
“Just a gut feeling,” Sterling said, heading out of the room.
“Y-yes sir!” Hansberg hurriedly followed.
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“It’s already been a day,” Neal said, opening the passenger side door of their SUV. His tone dripped with mockery. “The military sure is incompetent. They still haven’t caught that girl, Calista.”
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Nelson, already inside, stared blankly out the windshield. He didn’t respond, waiting for Neal to buckle his seatbelt. The silence between them was heavy, almost tangible.
Neal’s grin widened as he settled into his seat. “Aww… still thinking about Alex, are we? It’s just been a day… I’m sure she’ll survive and reach Reverie in a few days.” He shrugged nonchalantly, his words like knives in Nelson’s heart.
Nelson’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. He swallowed hard but remained silent, starting the engine and pulling onto the road.
“You never know. Maybe you’ll see her again in Reverie...” Neal’s voice turned cold, an ominous glint in his eyes. “And for that, we must help each other in reaching Division A.”
A flicker of hope sparked in Nelson’s eyes at the mention of Division A. His mind raced with possibilities. He glanced at the rearview mirror, catching his own weary reflection. The weight of the past day hung heavily on him, but he couldn’t afford to falter now.
Noticing the shift in his brother, Neal leaned back with a satisfied chuckle.
Nelson sighed, the sound filled with a mixture of exhaustion and determination. “So, we head to Punamban Forest now? Search for Calista and those mystery monks?” he asked.
“Nope…” Neal’s voice was laced with amusement as he looked behind them. “We need to take a detour on that plan… that copper is persistent.”
Nelson nodded, eyes flicking to the black SUV trailing them.
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Somewhere deep within the Punamban forest,
A girl in a military uniform moved cautiously, her gaze flitting between the tangled underbrush and the crumpled map in her hands. The map trembled as she muttered under her breath, her voice a fragile thread in the oppressive silence. “This is what you wanted, Calista,” she whispered, her words barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to believe it. The weight of her determination pressed down on her, even as doubt gnawed at the edges of her resolve.
Suddenly, the sharp cry of birds pierced the air, their frantic wings cutting through the stillness. Calista’s breath hitched, and she froze, eyes wide, searching the shadows. The forest around her seemed to contract, the trees pressing in as if to smother her. She forced a slow, trembling breath, trying to steady the frantic drumming in her chest. “Just birds,” she murmured, though her pulse remained a wild, erratic beat in her ears.
She glanced at the map, a crumpled mess now, and sighed, the thought of her companions in the trial flickering like a distant memory. ‘I hope they’re safe…’ The thought slipped away as quickly as it came, replaced by the need to focus on the present, on survival.
For a moment, she tried to lose herself in the forest's beauty. Sunlight filtered through the thick canopy, casting fleeting patterns on the forest floor. The air was rich with the scent of pine and damp earth, a reminder of the untamed world she had once longed to explore. She reached out, her fingers brushing the rough bark of an ancient tree. A fleeting smile touched her lips—this was the adventure she had dreamed of, a place untouched by the chaos she had fled.
A nearby stream gurgled, its clear waters reflecting the dappled sunlight. Calista crouched beside it, cupping her hands to drink. The water, cold and refreshing, sent a shiver through her, momentarily washing away the tension coiled in her chest. She watched the sunlight dance on the water’s surface, the simple beauty almost enough to make her forget the dangers lurking beyond the trees.
Almost.
A snap of a branch echoed through the forest. Calista's head whipped around, her body tensing. The underbrush rustled, and she caught sight of a pair of glowing eyes staring back at her. It was a wild boar.
The boar’s eyes, black and glistening like polished onyx, locked onto hers, its breath puffing out in short, white clouds that hung in the chilly air. The coarse bristles along its back stood on end, giving it the appearance of a living storm cloud, dark and bristling with tension.
A low growl reverberated through the air, sending a chill down her spine. She took a step back, her hand groping for a stone. The wild boar snorted, its hooves pawing the ground as it sized her up.
Calista held her breath, her heart pounding as she inched away. The boar huffed once more before turning and vanishing into the thicket. The tension in her muscles slowly unwound, but her pulse remained erratic. Her legs were still shivering, her eyes wide in shock. She just sat there in utter silence for a while. Her mind was blank.
Then, faint but unmistakable, the sound of footsteps reached her ears. Her heart skipped a beat, the steady crunch of boots on the forest floor sending a surge of panic through her. Without a second thought, she bolted.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and quickened her pace, the map now forgotten, crumpled in her grip.
Branches whipped at her arms, the forest blurring around her as she ran. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her legs burning with the effort. But the footsteps behind her persisted, a relentless reminder that she was not alone. She pushed harder, her fear driving her deeper into the forest.
The ground beneath her grew softer, the air thick with the scent of decay. Distracted by her fear, she didn’t notice the change until it was too late.
Her foot sank into the ground with a sickening squelch. She stumbled, trying to yank it free, but the mud clung to her boot, pulling her down. Panic flared as she realized what she had stepped into. Quicksand.
The quicksand oozed around her legs like cold, wet cement, its grip tightening with every panicked movement. The sensation was that of a slow, relentless pull, as if the earth itself had come alive to drag her down into its depths.
“No, no, no,” she whispered, her voice trembling. The more she struggled, the deeper she sank. Her heart raced, and for a moment, all she could hear was the frantic pounding in her ears. Calista squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to stay still, to think.
Her eyes darted around, searching for anything that could save her. Just within reach, a sturdy branch lay half-buried in the underbrush. She stretched out, her fingers grazing the rough bark, and with a final desperate effort, she grasped it.
The branch creaked under the strain as she pulled herself inch by inch from the quicksand’s grip. Every muscle in her body screamed with exertion, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. Freedom was just within reach.
As she neared solid ground, a small, triumphant smile broke across her dirt-streaked face. But the moment of victory was fleeting.
A voice echoed through the trees, distant but growing closer. “I think I heard something over there!”
Panic surged anew. Calista yanked on the branch, her hands trembling with the effort. Just as she was about to pull herself free, the branch snapped with a sharp crack. Her breath caught in her throat as she plummeted back into the quicksand, the mud closing in around her like a vice.
Her heart thundered as she clawed at the air, her screams swallowed by the forest. The deceptive calm was shattered, replaced by the rush of terror and the relentless grip of the quicksand pulling her down. The footsteps grew louder, closing in, sealing her fate.