Raywick lay on the cold stone of the cavern floor in just about the most uncomfortable position he could manage. The underbelly of the Skyblade was above him, and the dangling fuel tank was crushing him as he strained to hold it up with both arms. He couldn’t keep this up much longer.
“Tell me again why we don’t have any proper jacks in this realm’s forsaken cave,” Raywick said.
“Well, there’s a reason it’s called Heathen’s Rest and not Dante’s repair shop,” Dante said.
Dante was about a decade Raywick’s senior and had a mumbling way of speaking from one side of his mouth. Dante always had a cigar between his teeth on the other side, sometimes lit, sometimes not, but always there nonetheless. He sat topside slowly tooling away at the Skyblade’s ignition module.
“If anything, you should be asking yourself why the engineers, in their infinite wisdom, designed the ignition system to only be accessible with the fuel tank dropped,” Dante quipped.
Raywick watched as ash from Dante’s cigar fell in slow motion down the service compartment and right on his face. What a great time to be smoking, Raywick thought.
Is it safe for that man to have an ember this close to the fuel system? The voice asked.
Raywick always pretended he didn’t hear the voice when other people were around, but it had a point.
Dante was mumbling something to either Raywick or himself, it was getting harder to tell lately.
“I can’t hold this thing much longer man, are you almost done?” Raywick asked.
“Finished about ten minutes ago,” Dante said.
“Thousand realms Dante, why didn’t you say something? The weight of this thing is killing me.”
He pushed the fuel tank up and back into place with his last bit of strength.
“All fixed. Corrosion on the ignition terminals was causing your inconsistent start-up,” Dante said as he hopped down from the Skyblade to leave.
Raywick jumped up too quickly on his bad knee, wincing as the familiar pain shot up his leg. He was hoping for a more subtle way to bring up the boundary, but Dante wasn’t exactly an open book these days.
“Dante, wait one more thing. Hypothetically, if someone wanted to cross the boundary… Do you know a way?”
“I know there are easier ways to kill yourself.”
For a moment Dante’s eyes seemed to gloss over, and then he stared at Raywick almost as if there was someone else behind the black mess of hair and burned-out cigar. Raywick blinked and his friend was back like nothing happened.
I really am losing my mind, he thought.
“There was a crazy old rebel that claimed to have been on the other side once. Freeman was his name. Got half his face blown off in a scrape with the Company, and I’m not sure he didn’t lose half his mind either. Last I heard he was out in Nowhere preaching that there was magic outside the boundary. Some people will believe anything these days,” Dante said.
“He’s in the middle of nowhere?” Raywick asked.
“Not nowhere. Nowhere the town. An old prospecting site that’s been abandoned for years.”
Dante struck a match and pulled on the cigar until it came back to life.
“Look, I shouldn’t have said anything. Don’t go looking for this lunatic. Hypothetical or otherwise. He’s going to get people killed when the company finds him.”
Dante turned and disappeared down the cavern in a cloud of smoke mumbling all the way.
Everyone hiding at Heathen’s Rest had been through one tragedy or another and it was an unspoken rule to not talk about it. One did not escape the refineries or Lumerite mines and live to tell the tale. So, they didn’t. It had been hard times all around for the people of Solaris, but Raywick had the feeling that Dante had the worst of it. He thought maybe Dante was an ex-compliance officer but never asked. It is a strange thing to know someone for years and yet not know them at all.
There was only one person in Heathen’s Rest that truly knew Raywick, and he needed to see her one last time. He knew he would never have the heart to tell Tessa goodbye, so he would tell her something else instead. The most wretched of things that claws its way out no matter how deep you bury it. The truth.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
The main cavern of Heathen’s Rest split off into dozens of paths running deep into the ground. Most of the passages had lighting that drew power from hidden solar panels above ground, and they made up for the rest of the darkness with lanterns and other handheld sources. The problem with being underground was that the refuge needed artificial light all the time. There was no way to optimally place the solar panels while keeping them hidden, so blackouts were frequent. Raywick did his part for the hideout by repairing the panels and maintaining fail-safes that would cut off power to non-essential areas when the batteries got low. He had to force himself to stop thinking about the work that needed doing as he made his way to the library.
About halfway down, he stopped at the mural they had painted in remembrance of the New Dawn massacre. A yellow sun setting over a horizon at the top of the wall with tall words painted in blue.
Never forget New Dawn, the last stand for democracy.
Under the words were a hundred red hands, each with unique prints pressed on by loved ones and friends of those whom the Company murdered. The paint had faded with years, but the names under the hands were still legible. He put a palm to the cold stone one last time.
“Hey, mom. I’m finally taking that trip we always talked about. I have a feeling it might be the last journey for me. Maybe I’ll finally get to see one of those flower plants you always read about. I promise to tell you all about it in the next life.”
The library was the second biggest cavern in Heathen’s Rest. The sprawling bookshelves had been there long before the current residents and most of the texts were too damaged by the humidity to read. A small group of would-be philosophers had made a mission of reading as much as possible in a race to save the text to memory before all the words died. There was talk of digging a vent to the surface to release humidity, but the plan never passed the risk-to-benefit assessment. Raywick didn’t have to ask around to know that Tessa would be here. She was an idealist with her elegant nose always stuck in a moldy book trying to piece together stories from a time before the great war.
Raywick found Tessa three rows down sitting on the stone with a headlamp tangled in a jungle of red hair. She was reading Theory of the Thousand Realms by someone who surely had an important sounding name before the rot had its way with the cover. He always found her passion for studying charming in a way nobody else quite appreciated. She thought she could save the world with knowledge. Maybe she would one day once he wasn’t around to distract her.
“Hey Tess,” Raywick said awkwardly announcing himself.
She knew he was there of course but didn’t acknowledge him.
He leaned against one of the ancient shelves and winced as two books fell to the stone with a loud clap.
You’re not very good at this, are you? the voice said.
“Can you not,” Raywick snapped back before realizing he said the words out loud.
“Can I not what? Sit here in peace and study without being interrupted. I guess not Ray,” Tessa said.
Their failed romance was clearly not helping the situation. Raywick wasn’t even sure if it had been a romance officially, but he knew that it was a disaster of his own design. They had been friends since Raywick arrived at the hideout after New Dawn and things were good between them. A single kiss changed everything. Suddenly it wasn’t fair for him to keep secrets from her anymore. For instance, hearing voices or taking the Skyblade on a suicide mission to steal Lumerite. He didn’t tell her about these things for the exact reason she wanted to know them. He loved her. The secrets had been a precursor to resentment.
His heart skipped as he met the jade in her eyes. There was a pain in the green reflecting sorrow in his blue.
“Tess, I just wanted to tell you… I’m leaving.” He pushed the words out as a part of him screamed on the inside not to. Was that part of him the sickness or was it the other way around?
“Good. Maybe you will learn how to be a better friend before you come back this time,” Tessa said.
She didn’t understand, how could he explain? The truth Raywick, he thought.
“I’m sick Tess…”
“You don’t look sick.”
You are not sick, the voice said.
The frustration boiled to the rim. All he wanted to do was make things right with the only person that mattered to him, and he couldn’t even manage that. He didn’t know how to tell her the whole truth, and she wouldn’t believe him if he did.
I really am broken, he thought.
Raywick let out a long sigh and picked up the two ecosystems that fell from the shelf. He put them back with exaggerated care, knowing how important they were to her.
“I’m sorry Tessa.”
He walked away, like he always did, his final bridge to sanity set ablaze while he held the match.
Raywick sat on his cot contemplating his last night at Heathen’s Rest. He didn’t try to ease the pain of leaving with thoughts of a grand return or the possibility of seeing his friends again someday. Those were a fool’s dream of a future that could only exist as a lie. Instead, he held three glass vials, one with tiny blue grains of dust, another with black sand, and the last empty.
You’re going to block me out with the dust again? The voice asked.
“I just need some rest before the journey tomorrow,” Raywick said.
It will kill you one day if you keep up. It is a sad death. The dusters drift away like a child into the ocean until they are too far to come back. They don’t know they are gone until it’s too late, and there is nothing to do but watch the shore fade away.
“I am sick. The more I hear your voice the more I feel my sanity slipping. I am no fool, I understand how to use stardust safely,” he said.
But you’re not sick…
He mixed tiny amounts of the sand and dust into the empty vial. A storm cloud of black and blue swirled around the glass as the reaction began. He poured the contents onto his forearm, and the dust burned through skin as it made its way into his bloodstream. Not a bad pain, just a familiar burn like a drink of spirits after a hard day.
The old cot let out a complaining creak as he laid back and stared at the cold stone above. The rock began to fade and suddenly he could see the stars reaching out to him with light from some distant past or remote future. He allowed the universe to pull him away. Away from the struggle, pain, and sorrow of his life. He saw a passing face as he let go. A beautiful girl with eyes like the moon and tears falling like meteorites.
Please don’t drift away Ray. I need you, the voice whispered.
Raywick closed his eyes and slept in the heavens.