A gentle caress of wind streamed around her form, rousing Maline from her slumber. Groggily, she turned away from the breeze, her eyes closed.
As she shifted, an uncomfortable sensation pricked at her skin, but she dismissed it as a result of the wooden chair beneath her. Contentment washed over her, and she sank back into unconsciousness.
In her semi-conscious state, she perceived a distant sound–a faint whistling, like the gentle rustling of leaves in a tranquil forest. It wrapped around her like a soothing dream, and a serene smile curved her lips as she adjusted her sleeping position.
That was until a disconcerting creaking tore through her calm. The gentle breeze shifted into a howling whistle. Panic surged within her, and she instinctively reached for her covers, only to find no such thing.
Her eyes shot open but were not greeted by a candle-lit room or a peaceful meadow. The wood around her was bathed in ashen light.
Her heart raced, and her eyes widened, reflecting the terror that flooded her mind. Fear and confusion etched deep lines across her face.
"No," she gasped, the word barely escaping her lips as her hands trembled in the eerie, cold wind.
The wood was thoroughly crushed, some portions even resembling sand. Catching a whiff of smoke through the suffocating bursts of wind, she turned her gaze toward her surroundings. Unfamiliar as they were familiar, what greeted her was a visage of her home, utterly destroyed. Hints of flame squirmed on some of the walls, burning fitfully.
Strands of hair fluttered like thin flags as she spun around, her gaze turning upwards.
It met an unexpected sight–the sky, unobscured.
Her eyes squinted, protecting her eyes as well as her mental state. She wanted to believe that it wasn’t so. Dazed, she tried to adjust her position and stand up, only to realize that her legs were already firmly planted on solid ground.
Beneath her, the texture resembled that of soil. Her gaze lowered, confirming that indeed, she lay upon a bed of dirt.
Tears welled up in her eyes, blown away immediately by the wind as she surveyed her surroundings once more. There was no wood in sight.
As if they taunted her, the surroundings had now birthed a plain, a meadow that withstood the raging winds alongside her. If this was a dream, then she did not experience the sense of inability and numbness this time.
In disbelief, she tried to stand up, but could not. By now, it felt as if the wind itself were throwing blows at her body, its might intensifying by the second.
Her heart hammered against her chest, her labored breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. Every inhale felt as if the wind were violating her lungs, and every exhale as if she were fighting for the right to breathe, her chest constricting in a vice of terror.
She observed as the light reflecting off of the leaves became more muted. She did not question it, as all events surrounding her seemed to be in question.
Even her neck began to strain, unable to hold her gaze. With her waning ability, she partly raised her quivering head, her eyes struggling to gaze upwards.
There, the sky had darkened. The layers of clouds began to churn as if something would emerge. Her pupils could not constrict any further, and her hands began to be forced down into the dirt.
Her spine began to compress, her gaze forced down. There was a sinister pressure building. Her fingers lacked the ability to fold as any method of subtle resistance was lost to her.
They had been halfway buried, every deepening level of soil giving way with a crunch, inciting fiery waves of stinging pain to course throughout her arms.
The wind grew more potent, her organs vibrating in tandem. In the midst of her despair, the thin flags of her hair waved wildly, signaling an unconsenting surrender.
She had managed to catch it. In her fleeting glance at the sky.
The sky,
It was falling.
…
In waking, Maline was blank.
She stared upward at the ceiling that shielded her from the world outside, her breaths coming out in clear strokes.
Weakly, she looked around, finding that the house was not as it was in her dream. Closing her eyes, she sat up and placed her feet onto the ground. Leaning over, she placed her head into her cupped hands and began to sob.
Her fingers trembled as her face contorted in agony, her tears streaming down her arms, dripping into her lap. Her cries echoed throughout the intact interior, mixed with a tinge of frustration.
These experiences she had suffered through thus far, she couldn’t make any sense of. They were incessant and sudden, with no warning or indication that they would occur. She didn’t think it was fair.
What had she done to be afflicted with this madness? This disease? This disease that disorients her, that numbs her, that gives her these terrible visions?
After a while, as if spent from the outpour, Maline's sobs gradually subsided. She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand and took a deep, shuddering breath. Pushing herself to her feet, she steadied herself against the two chairs.
Outside, the morning light filtered through the narrow window, casting a soft glow across the room. Although she was distraught, she could not allow those dreams to keep her imprisoned.
Determined, she returned to her room, picking out a change of clothes from her meager options, and made her way to the bathroom. Turning toward the spout in the far right section of the room, she looked down at the drain in the floor.
The floor, absent of any marks, did not follow the same plumbing rules as the water basin. As the water spout was continuous, they needed only list the length of time they spent in usage of it.
Twisting the top of the spout and laying her clothes down, the sound of water filled the room.
When she was done, she dried herself with a beige towel that she had sewn herself and began to change. The floor was still wet, but the remaining water that did not drain was usually gone after a while.
Her hands fumbled with the buttons of her new clothes, a more delicate shirt matched with black pants and flats, an outfit that she had saved up for earlier this year.
As it seemed that she had free time this morning, she was planning on going to the institute in search of her results.
Finished, she entered the central room and saw an unfinished half of stale bread lying on the table. She sat down and began to eat, sighing as observed how it shrank with every brittle bite.
…
Strides away from the institute, Maline didn’t feel as nervous as she thought she would. It seemed as though recent events had a hold on her mind. Even now, she was still unconsciously analyzing the details of her dream.
Coming before the gate, Maline noticed that Theo, the short-haired guard, was present along with three others who were unfamiliar to her.
As she didn’t feel very well, she chose not to initiate a lengthy conversation. Nodding toward Theo, she stated, “I’m here for the exam results.”
The guard had been briefly observing her new outfit with a strange gaze as if he hadn’t expected her to wear such a thing. He opened his mouth to answer before noticing the extensive bags under Maline’s eyes, indicating exhaustion.
Rephrasing his sentence in his mind, he replied while nodding in subtle understanding, “Yes, you can go on in.” Stepping back into his post, he, along with another guard motioned to open the gate.
On her way in, Maline turned to Theo, asking, “Do you two have different shifts?” Seeing as her question hadn’t completely gone through, she clarified, “Yivenne and you, I mean.”
Theo was used to unusual questions from her, and said, “Not completely. Our shifts intersect at some points in the day. You were present at one of those times.” The other guards noticed the unusual interaction between the two, wondering if they had any connection.
Bidding farewell, Maline made her way toward the front door. Her strides were measured in a way that didn’t worsen her nervousness, walking at a steady pace.
Opening the door, she found that she did not know where she should go in order to get her results. On the right of the hall, she noticed a receptionist's desk that she hadn’t paid much heed to on her first visit. It was an off day, so it was acceptable that nobody was there.
Currently, there was. A thin woman with black, tied-back hair stared at Maline as she entered, waiting for her to approach.
“You are?” the lady asked as she saw Maline make her way towards her. She had dark brown eyes and wore a dissatisfied expression on her face, an inconspicuous mole hidden beneath her lips.
Maline replied succinctly, “I’m here to view my entrance exam results; I took it yesterday. The professor said that they should be ready today.” She felt the need to clarify as she hadn’t conversed with this person prior.
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One of the woman’s eyebrows moved upward at Maline’s statement, eyeing her up and down as her lips took on a downward curve. “I wasn’t notified,” she spat out with a derisive tone. She pulled her gaze down as she observed a scattered pile of papers on the underside of the reception counter.
“Are you sure?” she said, as she looked back up at Maline.
Maline looked at her with a numb expression, saying in monotone, “He introduced himself as Professor Emil.”
After a long pause, the lady said, “Down the hall to the right, take a turn…”
She gave a flurry of directions and stared back down at her papers, ignoring the young lady in front of her.
Maline stared for a moment before giving a concise word of thanks and following her directions. As she wormed her way through the maze-like corridors, she was surprised by the sheer grandeur of the interior.
Windows that replaced whole walls, doors embellished with designs that could be placed in a museum, she was dumbstruck.
Spotting the staircase that the receptionist had mentioned, Maline began to climb it before seeing Professor Emil coming down, wearing a white, thick buttoned shirt and red pants. He gave her a cursory glance before continuing to walk down the stairs.
She assumed that he was coming down to greet her, but he walked past her. Her words caught in her throat as she turned around, looking down the stairway.
“Professor Emil?” she called out, noticing an immediate reaction.
He turned around in recognition of the voice, looking at Maline’s face in incredulity. “Oh!” he blurted out, turning around immediately. “You are Maline, yes?”
She nodded in the affirmative, walking down the staircase to meet him halfway.
“I didn’t expect…” the professor began, but stopped himself, continuing in a different manner, “I mistook you for one of our students!”
Maline’s lips curved up slightly, not expecting such a response. “I was just on my way to your classroom. I’m glad we met here.”
The professor’s expression became confused. “My classroom? Up those stairs? That should be the way to the student luncheon, not my classroom.” As his speech accelerated, a hint of his accent peeked out.
Maline was equally confused, “These were the directions that the receptionist gave me…” She recounted what she said to the best of her ability, hoping to clear up the confusion.
“Ah, maybe she just made a mistake,” he began as he turned around and walked back down the staircase, “You’re here for your test results, yes? Your results would never be in my classroom, they’re in the room where you took your test.”
Maline affirmed, before walking down the staircase with him. “Do you know how I did?” she asked in expectation.
The professor looked over his shoulder at her, chuckling as he focused forward, “We’re not very far, it’ll be a surprise.”
Opening the door, the professor made his way to a cabinet on the right side of the room. Rummaging through it, his brows furrowed as he accelerated his pace, opening different compartments and re-searching ones he had already looked through.
“Problem?” Maline asked, noticing his predicament.
The professor answered only after his search ended in failure. “It seems I’ve misplaced it.” Thinking for a moment, his expression softened and he began to walk back over to Maline.
“Well, good news. You did well.”
Maline’s expression took on a muted tint of excitement. She responded after a while, “What’s next?”
The professor responded with guilt, “Now, to pay the entrance fee before you are admitted. I apologize for not informing you beforehand. I was not as clear-headed as I would have liked to be on that day.”
Maline nodded in understanding, saying, “How much will it be?”
The professor responded, “As you passed an initial test that many who are admitted through the formal process do not have to take, the price is lower.” After a pause, he told her the price.
“Three hundred and ten tomes.”
Taken aback, Maline was confused. The siblings did not openly disclose their savings to each other, but they had a ballpark estimate of each other’s. Although they were hard workers, she did not think that Gabe alone could raise that much money.
“I don’t have that much on hand, is it okay if I come back later?” Maline asked, unsure if she would truly be coming back. She would rather not attend the institute altogether than waste that much of her brother’s savings.
The professor nodded in understanding, “Of course.”
Making her way out of the institute, she noticed the receptionist looking at her with gloating concealed in her expression.
…
On her way to the fields, where she intended to consult with her brother and carry on with her work, Maline's initial excitement had noticeably dimmed.
Three hundred and ten tomes. It was a substantial amount, and her worry deepened as she thought about her brother.
She had already begun thinking about the matters of her dreams and her future as she reached a stretch of crops to the right of the road she was walking on. On the horizon was an entrance to the fields and a stretch of buildings on the left, leading to a burgeoning mansion. Lord Marshall’s abode.
As she walked along the path toward the fields, she greeted her co-workers with nods and brief smiles, but their curious glances were hard to ignore.
It didn't take long for her to realize what was causing the strange looks–her attire, more suited for a formal occasion than the laborious fields.
She sighed internally, feeling somewhat embarrassed by her oversight. Nonetheless, she continued toward the fields, hoping to find her brother Gabe and discuss their next steps.
She continued walking, hearing faint yelling that passed her by. It caught her attention but briefly, dismissing it as the usual drama that sometimes unfolded among the workers. Focused on her goal, she pushed the thought aside and continued walking.
Reaching the vast fields, Maline began asking around for the location of her brother. Each inquiry was met with a shake of the head, a puzzled expression, or one of pity. It was becoming apparent that Gabe was not among the workers today, which left her feeling increasingly uneasy.
With a heavy heart, she picked up a tool and started working, planting crops in the neatly dug rows of dirt that stretched as far as the eye could see.
The monotonous rhythm of her work allowed her mind to wander, and her thoughts turned to her brother.
Where could he be? Did something happen to him? She couldn't shake the worry that was gnawing at her.
As she continued her labor, an idea began to form in her mind. Perhaps she should investigate the source of the earlier commotion, the yelling that had caught her attention. If there was any chance that Gabe was involved, she needed to know.
Without hesitation, she dropped her tools and started making her way back toward the building where the shouting had come from.
The yelling had not ceased; in fact, it had grown more incessant as she approached. The door was slightly ajar, allowing her to peer inside.
Inside was, surprisingly, Lord Marshall. He had a head of dark brown hair, with a face untouched by the toils he put his workers through.
He wore an expressive suit, embroidered with threads of silk, holding an unnecessarily exquisite short metal whip that dripped with blood in his right hand.
He was berating an individual who sat on their knees leaning onto a wall, facing away from the door. The Lord’s words were piercing, continuously demeaning them.
The words themselves had begun to fall on deaf ears as Maline’s expression shifted to one of astonishment. She recognized that back. Covered in lash marks of increasing magnitude, their wounds gaped outward, with loose skin secreting blood like dew on leaves.
Wounds also seemed to litter the captive’s thighs, lower back, and upper arms. These wounds looked to be older, thick scabs forming over their bruised surface. The more recent and severe wounds caused their skin to sag downward, the flesh inside bulging outward in bloodied pustules, as if the skin surrounding them would fall off.
This was her brother, Gabe.
Maline couldn't comprehend what she was witnessing. Her instincts kicked in, and without a second thought, she pushed the door open and rushed into the room.
"Stop!" she yelled, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear.
Lord Marshall turned toward her, his face contorted with rage. Gabe, who had been slumped against the wall, turned his head weakly, his eyes meeting Maline's with a mixture of relief, concern, and pain.
"What do you think you're doing, girl?" Lord Marshall spat, his voice dripping with contempt. His amber eyes burned with unadulterated fury, his left hand reaching out in a grasping motion as his right hand lifted the tightly held whip upward, aiming to hit her.
“Go!” Maline urged her brother, moving in to push him toward the door when her right hand was gripped tightly by the Lord’s delicate hands. Alerted, she turned around, only to see a whip storming downward.
As the whip lashed out, its tip made a sickening impact across Maline's face. The air was filled with a sharp, cracking sound, like the splitting of a twig.
The force of the blow caused her vision to blur momentarily, and a red-hot sensation radiated from the area as if her skin had been seared by a white-hot brand.
Maline couldn't suppress a cry of pain as it hit her. She immediately lost footing and fell to the floor, disoriented. Steeling herself through the pain, Maline remembered what her objective was.
With incessant insults and threats buffeting her back, she managed to crawl over to her brother and shield him with her back.
Maline's breaths came in ragged gasps as she did her best to shield her brother from further harm. The successive sounds of impact filled the room, along with a host of terrifying threats, one of which caught her attention.
“Hold still!”
She acted on the opportunity and did the exact opposite, putting weight on her left foot and pushing herself and her brother to the right.
Immediately afterward, a deafening stomp sounded from a foot left of her head. Unable to hold out any longer, she turned around, her back against her brother’s. Her torn shirt made contact with her brother’s naked flesh, further inciting her into action.
Lord Marshall held the whip in his hands high in the air, its solid hilt forward, aiming to end the altercation.
His barrage of insults was interrupted by a foot. Maline had used her brother’s back to lift herself up, launching a kick onto Marshall’s chin. This incited a groan from Gabe, but the Lord had dropped his whip.
Seeing an opportunity, Maline immediately lifted herself from her brother’s back, reaching for the whip but falling short.
Uncaring of the man who had collapsed next to her, she assisted her brother in getting up before unsteadily helping him out of the room. Her back bore the marks of her cowering escape from the whip's reach, but she couldn't afford to stop now.
In the wake of their escape, Lord Marshall's enraged cries reverberated, resonating with anger and humiliation. "Get them, now!" His shout burst from the room and alerted the host of workers outside. Swiftly but clumsily regaining his footing, his fury propelled him in relentless pursuit of the two siblings.
Their shadows began to darken as Maline's determination burned brighter. They pushed forward, the pained groans of her brother fueling her.
The coworkers were torn between their loyalty to Lord Marshall and their empathy for the siblings' plight. Some hesitated, while others began to chase after them, urged on by the Lord's command.
“Gabe,” Maline probed, aiming to get her brother’s mind away from what was happening.
“We’ll be okay.” She did not hear a response but continued walking unsteadily toward the exit of the fields.
Their assailants were now only a few strides away.
Suddenly, their shadows began to take on a darker tone. Looking upwards, Maline found that the sky had started to darken.
She looked forward, fear in her eyes as she bit her quivering lips, forcing herself to maintain a steady pace.
Gradually, the sound of pursuit faded into silence and her brother began to weigh heavier on her shoulder. She dismissed it as an indicator of her exhaustion.
She struggled to move forward while her brother, his speech impaired, managed to utter, “Maline, put me down.”
Puzzled, she glanced at him, only to be shocked by his unresponsive arm, hanging heavily from her shoulder. As if weighed down, it moved with a different gravity than she did.
“It’s…” Gabe began, immensely labored. “It’s heavy…” He began to shift off of her shoulder, but Maline could not let that happen.
She clung to his arm with her left hand, gripping fiercely, but it remained unyielding, dragging her down onto her knees as her brother fell with a thud.
His gaze was vacant, staring deeply into the sky.
"What’s wrong?" Maline called out in fear, attempting to lift him but finding herself lacking the strength. He wouldn’t budge, as firm as a boulder.
“I want you to run,” Gabe said, his breaths coming out without his consent as if his chest were being weighed down, "Run, Maline. Please," he pleaded, his ability to breathe properly slipping away.
Maline couldn’t pick him up and looked behind him. There lay dozens of her coworkers, in a similar condition to her brother. They lay rooted to the ground, unable to move.
Her pupils constricted, finally pulling her gaze upward.
There, the sky had darkened considerably, an ashen light shining down upon them.
Along with the widening of her eyes, a deafening rumble sounded. Her body began to feel heavier, her mind retreating into a period of fearful recollection.
Suddenly, the pressure seemed to increase exponentially, Maline’s terrified gaze staring into the churning sky.
“I…” She uttered, tearing her gaze away from the sky. Around her, the pressure increased, and the sound of cracking came from nearby buildings. Her brother’s head had now shifted to the side, unable to look at her.
It was being forcefully pushed down, but his eyes stared sideward in search of her. His jaw quivered as if he were trying to open it in resistance to some invisible force.
The rumbling intensified, and Maline, losing strength in her limbs, fell upon the ground a few strides away from her brother.
His gaze now locked onto her, intense pleading evident on his face.
'Go.' His silent voice echoed within her mind, but the rumbling only increased in response. She tried with all her might to resist, but eventually, her hands fell to her side.
In front of her, the very dirt itself lay stagnant in the air, vibrating with fervor. In the corners of her eyes, the ground began to crack, and the pressure caused wind to circulate.
She heard crumbling, her ears beginning to become unresponsive to the sheer magnitude of the sounds around her. The siblings’ bodies began to quiver along with the vibrations, the very air itself sharing in their experience.
They looked into each other’s eyes, their faces unable to show expression.
Within their eyes, they shared a paralyzing terror, their hearts failing to generate enough force to propel their blood throughout their bodies.
She tried to reach out to him, but the force pushing them down did not allow for lateral motion.
In their shuddering pain, the siblings began to close their eyes.
She had managed to catch it. In her fleeting glance at the sky.
The bleak sky.
It was falling.