One Day Earlier
"Brother, I can't believe you're still watching those people. Mom told me to call you for dinner."
Tyrin was sitting near the window of their modest home, observing the movement around the colony. He seemed absorbed, almost hypnotized by the sight of the workers and the imposing figures that passed by.
"Yes, of course. I'm coming," he replied.
Frida crossed her arms impatiently.
"You're not fooling anyone, Tyrin. You were watching that giant guy again, weren't you? I saw you peeking when he walked through the portal earlier."
Tyrin turned toward her with a mildly annoyed expression.
"Frida, you weren't supposed to tell anyone."
"Oh, as if Mom wouldn't notice. She always notices everything. Come on, dinner's ready."
At the small wooden table in their home, Cassandra served the meal carefully, dividing the simple portions equally. Despite their scarcity, she always made sure dinner was a moment of unity and comfort.
"Son, you're letting your food get cold. What's on your mind?" Cassandra asked, her sharp eyes focused on Tyrin, who was absentmindedly pushing his food around.
"Nothing, Mom, nothing," he replied quickly.
Frida, ever quick to intervene, seized the opportunity to expose her brother.
"I know! He was watching the giant guy go through the portal earlier!"
"Frida!" Tyrin protested, but his sister just shrugged with a mischievous grin.
Cassandra sighed, putting down her utensils. Her tone became firm but carried the same tenderness as always.
"Tyrin, you need to stop going near those places. What if something comes through that portal? I can't bear the thought of losing you too."
The silence that followed was almost unbearable. The mention of their father hung in the air like a shadow. Tyrin, sensing his mother's worry, finally broke the silence in an attempt to reassure her.
"There's no danger, Mom. Nothing non-human can cross the portal. They've installed biological barriers for that. That's why they vaccinate the dogs before sending them through, to trick the sensors."
Frida, always curious, leaned forward.
"What do you mean, brother? What do the vaccines do?"
Tyrin shifted in his seat, pleased to have something to explain.
"The portals are programmed to allow only human organisms. Anything else, like an animal or a Tyrano, would be instantly rejected or destroyed. So, they use a vaccine that temporarily alters the dog's DNA, making it pass through the portal as if it were human. It's safe, but it's cruel… I hate seeing the dogs being used like that."
Cassandra listened attentively, but the worry on her face didn't fade.
"And you think that's enough to protect us? Humans built those machines, Tyrin. And humans fail. What happens if something non-human forces its way through? What happens if we lose control?"
Tyrin fell silent for a moment, reflecting on his mother's words.
"I… I don't know, Mom. But they say it's never happened."
Cassandra sighed, returning to cutting her food in silence. The atmosphere grew heavy until Frida tried to lighten the mood.
"Well, if something does get through the portal, Tyrin can use that old stick he calls a weapon. That'll scare off any monster!"
The three chuckled softly, but the sound was muted by the lingering worry at the table.
After a few moments, Cassandra spoke again.
"Very well. I'm working overtime tonight. Even though we have food for this month, we need to be prepared for the future. So please, both of you, go to bed early."
"Of course, Mom. Promise you'll come home early tonight?"
"Yes, sweetheart. I'll try."
Cassandra, now alone, walked through the industrial corridors of the colony. The southern caldera was her second home, a place where she spent hours ensuring the systems stayed operational. It was grueling and dangerous work, but it was her only way to provide for her children.
As she walked, she overheard two coworkers speaking in hushed tones.
"Cassandra, have you heard about the northern portal? How many more people need to die before they realize that place is lost?"
One of the women nodded in agreement.
"We need to stand up to the leaders, or we'll all be sent there one day."
Cassandra, usually reserved, replied softly.
"I… I just think about the people they send. So many innocent souls."
Before she could continue, she was interrupted by Hanibal, a young, overconfident worker who always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"Innocent? They were weak. But what went through today is an Astra. A real hero."
The other women laughed derisively, clearly unimpressed.
"Hanibal, get back to work. You were selected last month, and you already think you're some great warrior?"
Uncomfortable with the interaction, Cassandra excused herself.
"I'm heading to the southern caldera. I'm late. Have a good evening, everyone."
"Alright, see you later," one of them replied dismissively.
As she walked away, she heard hurried footsteps behind her.
"Wait for me!"
It was Hanibal, running to catch up with her.
"You're going to the southern caldera? Can I come with you?"
To reach the southern caldera, one had to traverse vast pools of boiling, molten liquids that covered much of the inhospitable region. These calderas were immense, with hues of red and gold that bubbled and emitted suffocating vapors. The heat was so intense that the air shimmered, distorting the landscape. The narrow walkways that cut across these pools were the only practical routes, saving hours of detours.
But the walkways were far from reliable.
They were narrow and fragile structures made of ancient, rusted metal that groaned and swayed with the slightest movement. No one alive remembered their construction, and they seemed to have been built with knowledge long lost. Despite precarious maintenance, the relentless heat and time had eroded much of their integrity.
Cassandra, a veteran of these crossings, had learned to suppress her fears. As a child, the sight of the boiling calderas had made her knees weak, and for years, she had refused to use the walkways, opting for dangerous detours instead. But necessity and experience had hardened her resolve. She now faced the crossings with determination, though not without reluctance.
Hanibal, however, was in a different position.
New to the task, his eyes widened at the columns of steam rising incessantly from the bubbling liquid below. He tried to mask his fear, but Cassandra knew the look all too well—it was the same fear she had felt years ago.
"Are you nervous, Hanibal?" she asked, her voice calm but teasing.
He glanced at her, trying to appear confident. "N-no. I'm just… evaluating the walkway. It looks… fragile."
"Fragile is a compliment," Cassandra replied with an ironic smile. "These walkways were already old when I was a child. But they're still here, aren't they? They hold."
Hesitantly, Hanibal stepped onto the walkway. The heat from the calderas rose like an oppressive wave, instantly drenching him in sweat.
"Are you sure this is safe? I mean… if someone falls…"
Cassandra interrupted, pointing to the boiling liquid below.
"If you fall, Hanibal, you won't feel a thing. It'll be quick—like diving straight into hell."
He swallowed hard, and Cassandra regretted the joke when she saw the panic in his eyes.
"I'm kidding," she said, softening her tone. "Just keep moving, one step at a time. Don't look down. Just follow me."
As they crossed, a sudden high-pitched noise cut through the air. It was the unmistakable sound of a pipe malfunctioning nearby.
"We need to go back. Now!"
The walkway trembled violently under their feet as the structure began to fail. The rusted metal groaned in protest, and Cassandra and Hanibal realized the walkway was collapsing. Below them, the primary caldera churned, its molten magma threatening to engulf them.
"Faster, Hanibal! Don't stop!" Cassandra shouted, trying to keep the boy moving.
But no matter how quickly they ran, the walkway was collapsing too fast. A deafening sound of metal tearing filled the air, and before they could reach safety, the structure gave way entirely. In an instant, both were falling toward the seething magma below.
Cassandra felt her feet leave the ground, and in pure instinct, she reached out and grabbed hold of a two-inch iron pipe still attached to the wall. Her hands trembled with the impact, and she held her breath as she felt the weight pulling her downward.
That's when she realized something even more terrifying: Hanibal was dangling from her legs, clutching them desperately. His wide, terrified eyes met hers as he screamed in panic.
"I can't... I can't hold on..." he stammered, his voice breaking under the weight of his fear.
A sharp, searing pain shot through Cassandra's legs as the boy's additional weight threatened to pry her hands free from the iron pipe. Her palms, slick with sweat, slipped inch by inch. She glanced down, catching sight of the boiling caldera of magma and uranium beneath them. The blistering heat surged upward in waves, threatening to consume them both.
The voices of her coworkers, now helpless spectators, echoed from a distance:
"Kick the boy off! You're both going to die if you don't!"
"Let him go, Cassandra! He's going to drag you down with him!"
Cassandra clenched her teeth, blocking out the voices around her. She knew they were right, but something deeper, more primal, refused to listen.
"I can't!" she screamed, her voice filled with an emotion so raw that it silenced everyone watching.
Her arms and legs burned with excruciating pain, but she tightened her grip on the heated pipe, feeling her knuckles nearly pop from the strain.
"I just... can't..." she whispered to herself, tears welling in her eyes.
The weight pressing on her was more than just physical—it was the emotional burden of a lifetime. Memories flashed through her mind: how she had relied on her husband to care for their family, only to feel powerless when he left and never returned. But this moment was different. This time, she couldn't fail.
For what felt like an eternity, Cassandra held on, defying the impossible. Minutes passed, her body trembling under the relentless strain. She glanced down at Hanibal, now silent, his face etched with both fear and shame.
Gritting her teeth, Cassandra focused on the iron pipe. In the distance, she could hear faint shouts—someone was coming with rescue equipment. But just as a glimmer of hope began to surface, the pipe let out an ominous groan.
With a terrible screech, the metal gave way.
For an instant, time seemed to slow. Cassandra felt the void around her, the crushing inevitability of their fall. As the heat from the caldera rose to meet them, she whispered a final thought to herself:
"I hope he takes care of his little sister. I tried to protect them… but I failed."
Even in freefall, Cassandra never let go of Hanibal. Her arms wrapped around him with unyielding strength, defying the searing heat and the inevitability of their fate.
To those watching from afar, what they saw in that moment was extraordinary. For ten grueling minutes, Cassandra had fought against every force pulling her down, holding onto Hanibal with the ferocity of a lioness protecting her cub.
Despite the tears that streaked her face, bearing the unbearable weight of pain and despair, Cassandra never screamed. There was no cry of fear, no wail of hopelessness. Her strength was silent, a defiant resistance that spoke louder than words ever could.
Even when the iron gave way and gravity pulled them to their final descent, she did not abandon the boy.
Her sacrifice was more than an act of love—it was a profound display of courage that transcended fear and agony.
For the witnesses, the image of Cassandra's fall became something rare, almost sacred. In a world as merciless as Helheim, where selfishness often triumphed over solidarity, Cassandra became a symbol of selflessness and sacrifice.
It was like watching a flame burn brightly against the darkness, blazing with an intensity that left an indelible mark before finally extinguishing.