A young woman strides from the shadows of marble pillars as she holds a dozen glasses over her shoulder. The plate she holds heavily weighs her feet as she picks them up over the steps that welcome newcomers to the foyer of human evolution. Golds and silvers crawl over the woman as she passes rich chandeliers with her body, guiding herself into the crowd of dancers that release their final breaths as humans together. Her white dress waves above her ankles, her eyes gentle against the gleam of the future. She watches another woman named after cinder echo her words over the ivory and asks a group of people if they'd like a drink with their soft, gentle sways. They reject politely, and the young woman continues circling the foyer in silence.
No one was aware that the ceremony would be the last on Earth. These dances were the last to be performed with grace, and the people here believed they would ascend as deities to swirl the stars in their palms. They were all prepared for the birth of the next celestial. It would be the first time that they had power over one since the war Autumn had fought was lost. They broke their chains and tied them to her. In response, Ash and the collective of Delta were sure to put an end to the chaos. Only one celestial remains, now.
Her name is forbidden in these halls, and everyone knows well who she is. She's the one thing that brought Autumn to her knees, and the recent attack on her sister was Delta's response. The people awaiting the moment that Autumn reclaims the celestial throne are confident that they will rise with her and own constellations under their names. They want to be rich with the light of stars, leaving humanity to its inevitable demise under the boundaries of the atmosphere.
The young girl continues her stride, rotating around the foyer's circular architecture like a ticking clock for death masquerading as a beautiful new way of life. She listens as the woman over the microphone explains Delta's latest project to the crowd, informing them of the little girl they have held captive who will, at the age of four, open the gate for the immortal. She describes the physical features of the child, and the young woman with the drinks looks up to the hologram that showcases the little girl in her happiest state before she'd be taken away for a false religion. She continues by informing the crowd of the celestial traitor that was taken down after a thorough mission, and the people cheer after hearing that the tides have returned to their possession.
She finishes her speech with a gentle confirmation that the aircraft resting on the roof of the tower rumble out of their slumber, rising to the rain with humanity hanging onto their rails. The woman who brought the hands of the crowd to the air leaves behind the microphone, stepping out of the foyer satisfied. The young woman balancing blue neon in thin glasses, however, continues the same pace she'll be making for the rest of the night. She passes dozens of people in masks, the animals of nature no longer belonging in humanity's movement for perfection, and smiles to the dried paint of frozen faces. She listens blithely to the violins that sing to the crowd in unison, her breaths warm against the chills of the air as the peak of life rests in the high floors of Delta.
The serenity was not everlasting.
The sirens bleed the marble crimson in their flashes, pulsing the crowd into a shuffling mess of fear. The holograms alert everyone roaming the halls of the tower that the haunting crowds at the entrance have broken into the building, the riots completely forgotten by the tilted minds of the drunk. The people gather together in the crowd as they approach the closest exit of the room, their joy slaughtered by the spotlights of emergency. The disordered crowd rushes away from the foyer and slams into the young woman as she is caught in the cluster. The drinks she had shatter across the glossed floor, and the swaying chandeliers threaten the marble with their hanging diamonds to join them. The cobalt of the liquid sinks into the fabric of the woman's dress, the feet of the careless trying their best to dodge her body as it lies on the floor. She crawls to her knees, the tower roaring with the sounds of animals both from the world and the caged, shaking with the sounds of rebellion.
"Chloe!" Another woman calls from the crowd. She rushes closer to the young woman on the ground, her attire dressed the same as Chloe's as a slave to the rich. Her long red hair is held up in a neat bun, and her gentle brown eyes comfort Chloe as she rises. She helps Chloe to her feet, and the young woman looks to the other in terror.
"Tyla," Chloe looks around, "What's going on?"
The woman who lifted Chloe now holds onto her wrist, rushing towards the back exit of the foyer where the crowd is less dense.
"Someone released all the animals in the den," Tyla cries, pushing the door open with her knee. Together, the women slip off their heels and rush down the stairwell.
"How did anyone even get in there?!" Chloe cries back, shivering as the cold air grows into the winds of a nightmare.
"There were rumors of that Kitsune chick breaking in, but it was all a joke to me," Tyla responds, holding Chloe's hand in assurance. "The one who never shows her face unless it's digitally encrypted."
"Hasn't she done enough?! She's responsible for a dozen other attacks, isn't she?" Chloe growls like her enemy. The glossed concrete of the floor is stained with the drips of blue running from the edge of Chloe's dress.
"She's a terrorist. I wouldn't doubt it," Tyla shivers. "I thought Ash knew more about this."
"I think the faults of humanity are starting to show," Chloe whispers to herself.
"She's human, too. There must be some error that'll put an end to her destruction," Tyla says, breathing heavily as she rushes down the stairs with Chloe by her side. They get halfway down the tower before they feel its gravity start to shift. Their bodies are tilted towards the door in front of them, the wall four feet thick from the breezes of the outside world facing their backs.
"Oh god," Tyla stumbles, her body lightly hitting the wall they face as gravity drags her forward. Chloe stabilizes as the tower shifts, a warning sign that the riots below show no mercy in bringing humanity's reach above the clouds down to a powerful fall. "Chloe, we're going to die."
"We're not going to die," Chloe whispers through sniffles, reaching to help Tyla back to her feet. They continue running down the steps to freedom, but realize with another tug of gravity that they're too late. The tower of Delta slowly crumbles to the ground, and its foundation is about to be crushed by the dozen floors above it until all the weight covers the ground in its debris.
Without another peaceful moment to a ceremony meant to make them infinite, the tower breaks loose, and the ground begins to swallow its height with heavy rumbles as its final pleas. The two women feel the weight of the tower as it prepares to crush them under its marble. Chloe looks to Tyla as they both fall to their knees, aware of the mental clock she circled in the foyer as it ticks closer to the end.
They both cry to each other, weak to move forward, and aware of their fates long before they arrive. They hold each other above the vibrations of the earth as they fall toward the soil, their moments together as waitresses turning into cherishable memories of tranquility. They spend their last moments together, their forehead pressing together as they focus on the warmth of each other. The terror of the outside world fades out of their minds with the thunders of a lethal storm, and they let their last tears fall as the rain of the tempest.
Chloe looks at Tyla, deep into her caramel eyes, and loosens her grip.
"Is it true, what they say? Are our souls going to be woven in the ink as stars?" Chloe whispers, her voice cracked with the stone just a few floors beneath them.
"I guess we'll find out," Tyla answers. They give each other one last smile before their eyes see the last light of beauty, the earth reaching for their bodies as they fall into the debris. Their vision fades as their breaths are captivated by the smoke of the fallen, their blood running under the burdens of humanity's mistakes. Their skin is brushed with the dust of a thousand muffled screams. Their hearts stop beating without the afterlife they planned to touch, their last words crawling in defeat.
The distant revving of a motorcycle engine roars the storm forward far off in the horizon, the gleam of a crescent leaving the distance as it fades with the dusk of a lost society.