Chereads / The Fractured Sky / Chapter 3 - Chapter 3 - Powerful Beginnings

Chapter 3 - Chapter 3 - Powerful Beginnings

I whipped around as chaos erupted near the fire exit. The lanky man had been shoved to the ground by the whiskered coward, who was scrambling over him in his desperation to escape. The knight was already upon them, his massive sword glowing with eerie purple tendrils of energy.

Without thinking, I grabbed the nearest chair and hurled it as hard as I could at the knight. A strange surge of energy coursed through me, like electricity igniting every nerve in my body. The chair flew faster than I thought possible, slamming into the knight's chest with a satisfying crack—but it didn't even make him flinch.

The knight turned his attention back to the lanky man, who was still struggling to get up. Slowly, methodically, the knight raised his blade, the purple tendrils wrapping around it like living smoke.

I didn't think. I couldn't let this happen.

"No!" I shouted, my voice raw and desperate as I charged toward him. The world seemed to warp around me. Time slowed to a crawl, the shouts and sobs of the others fading into a dull hum. The knight's sword, once a blur of movement, now hung frozen in midair.

I kept running, each step heavy but determined. My chest burned, the air around me growing impossibly thin, but I didn't stop. Everything else was still—except for me.

Then, in an instant, the world snapped back into place. The sounds returned in a deafening rush, and everything sped back to normal. I collided with the knight, hitting him with all the force I could muster.

To my shock, he stumbled. The knight—hulking and indomitable in his heavy armor—fell to the floor with a loud crash. A burning patch of blackened metal marked where I'd struck him, faint wisps of smoke curling from the spot.

I dropped to my knees, gasping for air. My body felt like it had run a marathon in seconds. My stomach churned violently, and before I could stop myself, I threw up, the bile splattering on the floor.

"Now's our chance!" I croaked, my voice barely above a whisper.

The confident woman from before caught my words and darted toward the knight, her movements sharp and deliberate. She raised a broken piece of desk as a makeshift weapon, ready to strike the downed figure.

But just as she reached him, the knight's body began to dissolve, his massive frame breaking apart into thick, purple smoke.

"He's disappearing!" she shouted, her voice filled with frustration.

The smoke swirled and rose, vanishing through the cracks in the ceiling, leaving nothing but a faint, acrid smell behind.

For a moment, the room was silent except for our ragged breathing and screams from outside. I tried to push myself to my feet, but my legs felt like lead. Whatever had just happened to me—whatever I had done—it had left me completely drained.

"You're one of them," the whiskered man hissed, his voice trembling with paranoia. He gripped a chair tightly, raising it like a weapon. "We should kill him now before he gets us all killed!"

He took a step toward me, his eyes wild. I couldn't move. My body was too weak, my mind too clouded by exhaustion. All I could do was sit there, frozen, as he came closer, the chair lifted high over his head.

"Enough!"

The confident woman stepped between us, her glare stopping him cold. "We're not killing anyone, especially not the person who just saved someone you tried to sacrifice." Her words were sharp, her voice cold as steel, but it was her eyes that cut the deepest. The whiskered man flinched under her gaze, his grip on the chair faltering.

The tension in the room was thick. A few people shifted uncomfortably, but no one spoke up.

The confident woman's expression hardened further, and she turned her attention to the group. "We need to barricade the doors, now," she said, her tone commanding. "Pile the chairs in front of the door, turn off the lights, and draw the curtains. No noise. If something—or someone—comes back, we do not want be noticeable"

Everyone sprang into action. Within minutes, the chairs were stacked high against the doors, and the room was cloaked in darkness. The only sound was the shuffling of feet and the occasional muffled breath. I sat and watched, still too weak to help. Slowly, I felt some of my strength return, enough to move, though my body still felt like lead.

the lanky man I'd saved offered me his arm and helped me shuffle to the center of the room where the others had huddled together. "Thanks," he muttered softly, his voice trembling. His face was pale, his hands shaking.

"We need introductions and a plan of action," The confident woman announced. She stood tall, her commanding presence filling the space. "I'm Alice," she said, her sharp, dark eyes scanning the group as she gestured for the next person to speak.

The lanky man swallowed hard. "I'm Alan," he said, his voice still shaky. His sandy blond hair was tousled, and his green eyes darted nervously toward the whiskered man, as if he wanted to put as much distance between them as possible.

Alice's eyes landed on me next. "Tom," I said, my voice hoarse. Her gaze lingered on me for a moment, sharp and calculating, as if she were trying to piece me together.

Her attention shifted to the next person: a man with a dark complexion and sharp, chiseled features. He spoke with a calm, measured voice. "I'm John."

Next was a girl, short with blonde hair tied into a tight ponytail. She barely managed to squeak out her name. "S-Sophia."

Alice's eyes moved on. A woman who looked older than the rest of us sat upright, her posture stiff and composed. Her brown hair was tied back with pieces of hair falling in her face, and her dark clothing gave her an air of quiet authority. "Freya," she said firmly.

The introductions continued. "Jack," said a strikingly handsome man with what was once neatly combed black hair and a loosened tie. His calm demeanor belied the fear in his dark eyes.

"Emily," said a red-haired girl quietly, sitting close to Freya as if hoping to disappear into the shadows.

Finally, Alice turned her icy gaze toward the whiskered man. "And then we have the murderer," she said, her voice laced with venom.

"I'm not a murderer!" he snapped. His whisker-like mustache twitched as his face contorted in indignation. "I won't sit here and be slandered! That boy—Alap or whatever his name is—tripped, okay?"

Alice's expression didn't change. "And the girl? The one you pushed toward the knight?"

"I was trying to protect myself!" he said, panicked. His eyes darted around the room, looking for support, but no one spoke up. "How was I supposed to know she'd die? I thought this was... I don't know, some reality TV thing! I thought there were cameras!"

Sophia perked up at that. "Maybe it is a show," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Like some kind of... social experiment?"

Alice sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose. "If this were a show, do you think we'd be bleeding and broken like this? Do you think someone would actually die?" She stepped toward Sophia, placing a firm but gentle hand on her shoulder. "No. This is real. And someone did die."

Her voice softened as she looked around. "Does anyone know her name?"

"Emma," Alan said quietly, his head bowed. "I worked on a group project with her once. She was... a good person. Sweet. She didn't deserve this."

For a moment, silence filled the room. One by one, we bowed our heads, even the whiskered man, though he only did so reluctantly after everyone else.

When the moment passed, Alice turned her sharp gaze toward me. "Now," she said, her voice cutting through the quiet like a knife. "Explain what you did back there."

All eyes fell on me. The weight of their stares was crushing, and I could feel their suspicion and fear pressing down like a heavy fog.

I swallowed hard, my mind scrambling for the words to explain something I didn't even understand myself.