CHAPTER 2.5: ECHOES OF THE WANDERER
When World War 3 began in 2025, my world fell apart. I was just a kid, and my parents and I were forced to flee our rural home, constantly running from the violence that spread like wildfire. Each day was a relentless fight for survival. The war was not just a distant threat; it was our everyday reality, intruding on every moment of our lives.
I remember the fear that gripped me whenever we had to move. The dark knife my father gave me was a small comfort, but the real fear was the constant threat to my parents. Every time we had to leave our temporary hiding spots, my heart pounded with the dread of losing them. I could barely focus on anything but the fear of being separated from them. Their presence was my only source of stability, and the thought of losing them made me feel utterly powerless.
Despite the turmoil, my love for fantasy was a rare escape. I had always been enchanted by stories of magical worlds and heroic adventures. Those tales offered a sanctuary from the harshness of reality.
As we moved through dark forests or cramped refugee camps, I would let my imagination transport me to another world. I dreamed of being a hero in a land of magic, where I could fight dragons or discover hidden realms. These fantasies were my way of coping with the terror of our situation. They provided fleeting moments of joy and hope, moments when I could momentarily forget the chaos around me. I would often lose myself in these daydreams, my laughter or tears blending with the sound of distant gunfire.
Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!
One night, while we were trapped by a group of armed men, I felt an intense fear. I held the knife tightly, knowing it might be our only defense, but the reality of our situation felt overwhelming. Just as the threat seemed imminent, an inexplicable force enveloped us, and we found ourselves hidden in a thicket, safe from danger.
This strange ability to escape was both a gift and a mystery. I had no control over when it would happen or why it worked. Each time it occurred, it was a mix of relief and bewilderment. I couldn't help but wonder why this power came to me and what it meant for our future. The knife, though always with me, seemed less important compared to the strange, protective force that seemed to guide us through peril.
The constant danger and trauma of our journey weighed heavily on me. I was just a kid trying to make sense of a world that had become a nightmare. My parents were my everything, and their safety was my sole focus. I was haunted by nightmares of the war and by the fear of what might happen next. My heart ached with the thought of losing them and the uncertain future we faced.
My internal struggles were constant. I worried about what the future held and whether we would ever find a safe place. I remembered moments of peace from before the war and clung to the hope that one day, we might return to a normal life. As we continued our journey, I tried to understand my new ability and what it meant for us. My parents’ support was my anchor, and the memories of magical worlds were my refuge. I hoped to find not just a place to call home, but a way to heal from the trauma that had become an inseparable part of our lives.