The blinding light of the orange and yellow sun pierced through my eyelids, dragging me unwillingly into consciousness. My head pounded, and the distant chatter of my comrades became clearer, filling the quiet space around me. I cracked one eye open, immediately regretting it as the brightness seared my vision.
It wasn't that I didn't want to see them or discuss the next stage of our plans—I just couldn't shake the bone-deep exhaustion weighing me down. My body screamed for a few more hours of rest, but apparently, the universe had other ideas.
"He's awake. Perfect timing, Mr. Model Man."
A familiar voice cut through the haze of my thoughts. My eyes blinked, still blurry and unfocused as I reached blindly for my glasses. Everything was an indistinct blur until I slid them on, and his grinning face came into view.
Dominic Reid.
Out of the three people I called my "adventure buddies," Dominic was the one I trusted most. We'd known each other since college, navigating late-night study sessions and cheap ramen dinners long before The Collapse turned the world upside down.
"Damn, Lumian, you're as blind as a bat," Dominic quipped, his grin widening as he crossed his arms. "You know, contacts are probably impossible to find now. This is why you should've listened to me before The Collapse and switched over."
He chuckled at his own joke, clearly proud of his commentary. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and instead muttered something incoherent, still fighting the urge to fall back into the embrace of sleep.
"Are Marcus and Elias up yet?" I asked, stifling a yawn. The stretch of my jaw seemed to shake off the last remnants of sleep, leaving me feeling marginally more awake.
"Yeah, they're already up and getting ready," Dominic replied, his hand landing firmly on my shoulder. He gave me a light shake, as if ensuring I didn't drift back into sleep. "We're heading down to that cave system we scouted last week. Need to find some kind of fire fuel before the cold rolls in."
Marcus Carter and Elias Flynn—my other two companions in this ragtag team of survivors.
Marcus was, by far, the oldest of the group, easily in his sixties, but you wouldn't know it by watching him work. The man was relentless, a powerhouse who outpaced even Dominic and me when it came to manual labor. He made sure we knew it, too. Especially me.
Marcus had this impression that I was some spoiled brat because of my modeling career. To be fair, I could see where he got that idea, but he wasn't entirely right. Sure, modeling paid the bills (and then some), but it wasn't like I ever wanted to be a model.
My real passion had always been computers. That's what I went to college for—computer science. It was where I met Dominic, actually. He and I were part of the "struggling CS majors club." Honestly, most of us in the program were barely keeping our heads above water, but that shared misery made us close.
I didn't start modeling out of vanity or some deep desire to see my face on billboards. It was more like… desperation. I'd been told more than a few times that I was good-looking, and I figured, why not? Extra cash never hurt, especially when tuition and textbooks bled you dry.
Elias, on the other hand, was the wildcard. Quiet, steady, and almost painfully chill, he was the glue that kept things from falling apart when tensions ran high. If Plan A (a.k.a. Marcus) failed, you could always count on Plan B (a.k.a. Elias) to get us through.
Dominic gave my shoulder another squeeze before stepping back, his grin as sharp as ever. "You ready to join the land of the living, or should I let Marcus yell at you for another five minutes?"
I groaned, rubbing my face as I swung my legs over the side of my makeshift bed. Another day, another adventure.
"Anything but that. Any more of his scolding, and I'll be as deaf as him," I grumbled, rolling my eyes as I stood up. My back protested the movement with a series of satisfying pops as I stretched.
"I'll be sure to tell him how you feel," Dominic said, smirking with clear mischief in his tone.
"Damn you," I muttered, glaring half-heartedly.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
"Damn it, Dominic! I told you to wake the boy, not catch up like you haven't seen each other in years!" a booming voice yelled from the other side of the door. A voice I knew all too well.
Dominic grinned before swinging the door open. "Sorry, sorry. Any more of that and you'll take the door clean off its hinges."
On the other side stood Marcus, fully packed and looking as if he was already halfway down the cave. Elias stood behind him, equally ready but far less agitated. Marcus's eyes, however, locked onto me immediately.
"You're not even dressed yet?! Damn it, Lumian! You've got ten minutes—tops—or I'm tearing this door down myself!" Marcus barked before storming off, his heavy steps echoing down the hall.
"Got it, Gramps! Stop yelling!" I shouted after him, though the command fell on deaf ears, as usual.
Dominic chuckled, shaking his head as he looked back at me. "If you weren't awake before, you sure as hell are now."
"Damn right," I muttered under my breath, grabbing my bag and wondering if Marcus practiced yelling as a hobby.
.
..
…
And so, after agonizing walks, irritating yells, bountiful laughter, and a cascade of shenanigans—we made it to the cavern. Elias held the map, glancing between its worn surface and the towering entrance before us. Meanwhile, Marcus patted Dominic's back with the force of a man who had never heard the term "gentle," his laugh loud and unfiltered like a drunken sailor's.
"Kekekeke—! See, boy? We made it! You doubted your elders, didn't believe we'd make it, and yet, here we are!" Marcus crowed triumphantly, his grin splitting his weathered face.
Dominic groaned, brushing off the impact of Marcus's hand. "Alright, alright, I get it. I'll respect my elder. I'll even listen to you more… even though you're one croak away from—"
Before he could finish, Marcus's arm snaked around Dominic's neck, pulling him into a rough headlock. It was playful, but not without its lesson in humility.
"Damn brat," Marcus growled, tightening his hold slightly. "If I died tomorrow, you lot would be hopeless! Like baby birds without their mother! Say uncle, beg for mercy, and maybe I'll consider letting you go."
Dominic tapped frantically on Marcus's arm, his voice muffled. "Okay, okay, I apologize! Damn it, just let me breathe!"
With a hearty laugh, Marcus finally released him, and Dominic staggered backward, sucking in air like a man rescued from drowning.
As they squabbled, Elias stood quietly to the side, his eyes scanning the cavern with quiet curiosity. I stayed back too, arms crossed and mind elsewhere.
The others might have thought I was annoyed or uninterested, but something entirely different consumed my thoughts—a sentiment they always teased me for, one they could never quite understand.
"This," I muttered, almost to myself, "reminds me of a fantasy novel I read once."
The words slipped out before I realized it, and I could already feel Dominic rolling his eyes and Marcus gearing up for another rant. But I couldn't help it. Moments like this, with all their absurdity and camaraderie, felt pulled straight from the pages of a book.
And maybe that's why I liked them so much.
"That phrase will be the death of me one day," Dominic muttered, rolling his eyes as we ventured deeper into the cavern. The dim glow of our scavenged flashlights bounced off the jagged walls, casting long shadows that made the place feel alive.
"Map says a couple more steps, and we'll hit a glory of coal," Elias said, breaking his usual silence. His calm voice was almost eerie in the echoing cave. "Just head straight, yeah?"
We all nodded and moved forward, the air growing cooler with every step.
And then we saw it—a massive expanse of coal, more than any of us had anticipated. The black veins gleamed faintly under the beam of our flashlights.
"We hit the jackpot," I whispered in awe, my voice barely carrying over the weight of the moment. "Would it be wrong if I didn't want to tell anyone else about this? It could be… our spot."
Dominic snorted, smirking. "You say that like it's a treehouse or something." He dropped his bag to the floor and began rummaging through it.
Following his lead, the rest of us did the same, each of us pulling out our pickaxes. The tools were worn but reliable, a testament to how often we'd done this.
"Well… be careful," I said, glancing around at the precarious ceiling. "Don't hit anything too big, or this whole place will come down on us."
"Got it," Marcus replied gruffly, and the others nodded in agreement.
Taking a deep breath, I hefted my pickaxe, the familiar weight of it grounding me. With a sharp swing, I brought it down onto the stone.
Clang!
Sparks flew as the pickaxe bit into the coal. Tiny shards of rock and debris scattered, some of it kicking up into the air. I coughed, instinctively pulling my shirt over my nose and mouth. The dust was thick, clawing at my lungs, but I pressed on.
Each strike sent chunks of coal tumbling down, forming a growing pile behind me. The sound of pickaxes filled the cave—a steady rhythm of labor, punctuated by occasional grunts and gasps for air.
Thirty minutes in, and the strain was taking its toll. My hands were raw and red, my grip on the pickaxe slipping with every swing. Sweat poured down my face, soaking into my shirt.
"We've got enough for a couple of months, maybe more if we're careful. Let's move," Marcus said, his tone firm as we loaded the coal into our bags, distributing the weight as evenly as we could.
I stayed back, double-checking our pile to make sure we didn't miss anything. The others had already started moving toward the exit when I heard it—a low, rumbling sound, like a deep growl from the earth itself.
I froze.
The noise came from above. My eyes darted upward just as the ceiling began to crack and crumble, loose chunks of rock raining down. Instinct took over, and I leapt backward, narrowly avoiding the cascade of debris. The impact kicked up a cloud of dust so thick it obscured everything, cutting me off from the others.
"Lumian!" Marcus's voice rang out, sharp and panicked. "Damn it, are you—AGH!" His shout twisted into a pained scream, raw and guttural.
I couldn't see them, but I could hear everything.
"You're bleeding like crazy… what happened to your eye?" That was Elias, his tone unusually sharp, almost frantic.
"I'll deal with Marcus—just get to Lumian!" Elias barked, his voice growing fainter as the chaos continued.
Then came the clanging—Dominic, striking at the debris separating us. The sound echoed in the confined space, metallic and desperate.
I wasn't about to sit still. My heart pounded as I reached around in the dark, searching for my pickaxe. My hand closed around something solid, but the instant I gripped it, a searing pain shot through my palm.
I yanked my hand back, gasping as warm blood began to drip steadily to the ground. My fingers throbbed as I looked down at what I had grabbed.
It wasn't my pickaxe.
It was a crystal.
The shard pulsed with an eerie blue glow, its edges unnaturally sharp, almost unnatural in its perfection. It shimmered faintly, the light shifting like a living thing. My blood ran down its surface, staining its brilliance with deep crimson.
The pain in my hand intensified, traveling up my arm like icy tendrils burrowing into my skin. My vision blurred, the edges of the world fading into an overwhelming white.
Before I could process what was happening, I was no longer in the cave.
I stood in a vast, empty space. Pure white stretched endlessly in every direction, a void so silent it felt oppressive.
Floating before me was a small, pink orb, its glow soft yet piercing.