In the familiar darkness of the lower district, the flickering light of a makeshift fire cast dancing shadows on the crumbling walls. A small circle of young people huddled closer, as if the warmth might chase away the chill of their thoughts. Tonight, Kaïra was the storyteller. At just 19, her voice carried a blend of defiance and curiosity, laced with that hint of mystery that demanded attention.
"Do you remember old Marlen?" she asked, her gaze fixed on the flames. The group murmured their agreement. Everyone knew Marlen, the grizzled man with the gray beard who wandered the depths of the city, trading eerie tales for scraps of bread or a sip of synthetic liquor.
Kaïra took a deep breath, her voice steady but low. "He used to say this city wasn't always here. Neither was the dome. Out there… things were different once."
Faces turned toward her, rapt with curiosity.
"Before the dome, there were lands," she continued. "Open, endless lands where people lived without walls to contain them. But then something happened. Something powerful enough to erase it all. He said the sky broke apart, the ground split open, and the world collapsed in on itself."
Freya, sitting beside Kaïra, frowned slightly. "And that's when they built the city?"
Kaïra nodded. "Yes, but not just this one. Marlen said there were other cities. One in every region, each protected by a massive dome. That's all that's left now: bubbles of life surrounded by death and desolation. But why were they built in the first place?"
Elior, leaning casually against a concrete wall, crossed his arms. "Because they knew it was over. They wanted to save whatever they could."
Kaïra shook her head, a sly smile tugging at her lips. "Maybe. Or maybe there was another reason. Marlen said there was something they were hiding."
A heavy silence fell over the circle. The firelight seemed to waver, as though unsure whether to illuminate their faces any further.
Kaïra leaned in, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "He said the gray zones, the lands beyond the dome, aren't completely empty. That echoes of the past linger there. Ruins, machines, fragments of a world we can't understand. He said that sometimes, if you listen closely, you can hear voices."
Freya stiffened. "Voices?"
"Yes," Kaïra replied. "Whispers. As if time itself cracked, and fragments of the past are trying to break through to us."
Elior rolled his eyes. "He's just a crazy old man. He tells these stories to scare us, to keep us in line."
Kaïra shrugged, but a spark of excitement lit up her gaze. "Maybe. But why don't they let us leave, then? Why is it only agents who are allowed beyond the dome? If it's so terrible out there, why won't they let us see for ourselves?"
The fire crackled, its sparks filling the silence that followed. Kaïra's eyes darted around the circle, studying the faces of her friends. She knew some thought her obsession was reckless, but she couldn't help it. These questions gnawed at her, restless and insistent.
"I want to know," she murmured finally, more to herself than to anyone else. "I want to see what's really out there. Whether they're lying to us or not."
The fire sputtered and went out, plunging the group into shadow. But in the darkness, Kaïra felt something stir deep within her a spark, a hunger. Maybe one day, she'd find the courage to step beyond the dome and discover the truth for herself.