Emerging from the depths of unconsciousness, Maline awoke to an overcast sky.

She could only stare outward, her mind a haze of weariness as the events that orchestrated her slumber remained clouded behind a weary shroud.

Dim light filtered through the interwoven gaps of the sky, casting an eerie glow on her surroundings. As the light blanketed the earth, it cast no shadow upon her body.

A gasp escaped her lips, mingling with the stale air, as she became acutely aware that her body lay partially entombed beneath a heavy mound of earth, meticulously compacted to a smooth, marble-like texture.

The weight pressed down relentlessly upon her, callous to her struggle as it cloaked her every breath in pain. Panic swelled within her as she fought against the suffocating embrace of the earth.

Summoning every ounce of strength, Maline engaged in a ferocious battle against the weight that sought to confine her.

Each frantic movement she made was met with fierce resistance from the soil. It clung to her like an adversary determined to keep her confined, to drag her down into its muddy depths. Yet, driven by desperation and a pulsating will to survive, Maline persisted.

Time ceased to hold meaning as she persevered, the torment of her exertion mingling with the weight of her quickly dissipating strength.

And then, in a moment that seemed to hold her life in captivity, her body broke free from the earthen prison. A surge of precious oxygen flooded her starved lungs as she emerged with a shrieking inhale, her limbs trembling with exhaustion.

Her trembling was only emboldened by a keen realization that gradually dawned upon her as she surveyed her surroundings with widening, disbelieving eyes.

Crushing silence enveloped the scene around her as she surveyed the evident wreckage. Once stable structures now lay defeated. Akin to paper mache, they pressed into the earth, blending into the desolate plain that stretched far and wide.

The ground, as if taunting its victims, was polished with extreme precision regardless of material. Soil became reminiscent of wooden floorboards, while crops mimicked their own roots.

Sorrow was etched into the very atoms of the ground.

This is what remained, beneath a fallen sky.

The fragments of memory resurfaced, flooding her mind like a torrential storm.

She collapsed onto her knees, a pang of pain zig-zagging through her nerves. The ground had become very firm.

Frantically, she searched for her brother, Gabe, who should have been buried alongside her, bearing the weight together. Her trembling fingers grasped hopelessly, clawing at the ground as she dug feverishly next to her, the solid chunks of dirt digging into her nail beds, the pain pushing her deeper.

The packed dirt resisted her efforts, compacted by the relentless winds that had swept it into such stability. But Maline refused to yield, her fingernails clawing at the stubborn ground. The meager portions of dirt she managed to pull away had already begun to take on a deep red tint.

And then, a sickening touch beneath the surface—she could feel a mangled finger, twisted and broken. Gabe's finger.

Horror clutched at Maline's heart, immobilizing her in its agonizing grip. Tears streamed down her face, mingling with the dirt-stained tracks etched upon her skin.

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In that paralyzing moment, Maline contemplated the unthinkable. Who else could it be, lying entombed in this dark earth beneath her? She could hear nothing, There was no sound, no movement, only silence.

Gentle sobs resonated through the quiet as she knelt beside her brother's makeshift grave. Tenderly, she ran her fingers over the soil that held him captive, that held her dearest kin, moistening the earth with her tears.

…

Maline fell into an exhausted slumber, seeking solace within her dreams. Within this unlikely place, a fleeting tranquility washed over her weary mind, providing a temporary sanctuary from the realizations that lay in wait upon her awakening.

She stood at shore, witness to the unfolding tapestry of the night sky, its inky-blue guise setting in front of her an opportunity; as if her mind had finally let up, giving her a taste of normalcy.

She seated herself on the sand below, the waters of the reaching shore fitfully caressing her feet.

She let her mind roam into the heavens, her heart unfolding as she let out breaths that became increasingly stable as time passed.

Her worries all flittered out into the sky, enveloped in its cooling embrace. As she began to drift into stillness, a particular portion of her heart began to unravel, willingly offering up one specific string of memories.

They were of her brother.

Of the troubles they shared, of their bond, of their kinship.

She thought she heard something. Laughter, delicate—nearly melodic. It seemed to resonate from the very stars above, as if the constellations themselves chirped in resonance, chiming in response to her offering. As if he was happy. As if he were safe... safe within the arms of a lifted sky.

No uttered syllable could hope to assure her further.

Her eyes began to close, the inky tapestry of the sky melding with the darkness that enveloped her.

Her worries, transformed into distant freckles adorning the night sky, faded along with her vision; into the pitch of her closing eyes.

…

Slowly emerging from the realm of dreams, her gaze once again fixated upon the vast expanse of the sky, an empty canvas echoing the dulled numbness shrouding her fractured soul.

The memories of the cataclysmic event that had shattered her world etched themselves weakly upon her mind, almost floating above her subconscious.

They whispered vaguely in the recesses of her mind, a bittersweet effigy of what once was. Letters that would never find their recipient.

Her left hand, still entrenched in the hole she had painstakingly carved, remained intertwined with the broken finger of her beloved brother.

Hints of dried tears marred her dirt-stained visage, yet her countenance remained unmoved as she surveyed the ever-false heavens above, her fingers absently playing with the roughened earth.

Rising slowly, her weary form bore witness to the effects of her desperation. Her nails, crooked and dislodged from their beds, silently dripped blood, blending with the soil that had become trapped in their crevices.

Yet, she paid no heed to the pain, her gaze fixated upon her brother's grave.

Blood and dirt, mingling as one, seeped through the tears in her weathered skin. As her gaze once again ascended to the heavens, her resolve solidified.

Drawing upon a determination she could not pinpoint the source of, Maline mustered unsteady strength, rising from her perch.

Although determined, her body failed her. Her attempts at digging once more were offset, her fingertips barely leaving indentations in the unforgiving soil.

In her dazed state of detachment, Maline failed to perceive the footsteps approaching steadily from behind.

With a voice that held neither compassion nor care, a stranger demanded with a phrase that hung heavily in the air.

"Leave it," the stranger commanded, their impatience palpable.

Drawn to her unresponsiveness, their visage darkened with frustration. They seized her arm with a firm grip, forcefully wrenching her upwards, away from the reverie that held her captive. Gazing into her vacant eyes, they found neither recognition nor resistance, only a profound unfeeling.

With indifference, they took action, relentlessly shaking her form while shouting in an urgent clamor as they turned around and walked with her, the figure's impatience tangible.

As she felt her body being whisked away from her brother’s grave, Maline briefly awakened from her stupor, fighting with futile savagery.

Reaching out for their eyes with her bloodied fingers, she sought to damage them as severely as she could, desperately clinging to the quickly dissipating hope of remaining with her brother.

“No!” she weakly punched out, sounding weak thuds against their face. “Let me go!” Her dangling legs began to move, intending to hurt them wherever she could.

Seemingly immune to her feeble strikes and protests, the figure persisted, driven solely by the need to extricate her from the vicinity. Their gaze remained fixed on her, worlds apart from the storm of emotion raging within her. Eventually, they decided to take action once more.

Gazing instead at the space between her eyes, they lifted their left hand, pointing to it. With an unspoken command, a force began to reel Maline's mind backward with impetus, ushering her into her memories. In turn, her mind was besieged by shards of recollection, a mosaic of an unthinkable fate.

Untouched by her resistance, the figure coldly carried her limp form, a mere vessel to be transported. With an equally numb indifference to her well-being or fragile mental state, their strides increased in pace, making their way opposite the flattened plains.

Maline, now blank in mind, dipped up and down limply over their shoulder, her captor’s dark hair obscuring her eyes.