I woke to the sound of rain tapping against the roof, a steady, unrelenting rhythm that did nothing to ease the knot in my chest. The air in the shack was damp and cold, the kind of chill that seeped into your bones and made you feel like you'd never be warm again.
The thin blanket I'd wrapped myself in did little to help; it clung to me like a second skin, damp and heavy. I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, listening to the rain and the faint creak of the shack's walls as they shifted in the wind.
The sound was almost comforting, in a way—familiar, predictable. But the feeling in my chest wasn't. It was a weight I couldn't shake, a gnawing unease that had been growing for days.
The idea that Soren—the lanky boy who always had a dry remark ready by the campfire—would never speak again, that his quiet, reassuring presence was gone for good, made it painfully clear: what had once been just a gut feeling was now an undeniable, disturbing reality for all of us.
I sat up slowly, my body stiff from another night on the thin, lumpy mattress. The springs groaned beneath me, the sound sharp in the quiet.
Elias was already awake, sitting at the small table by the door, his hands wrapped around a chipped mug of something steaming. He didn't look at me as I shifted, his gaze fixed on the wall like it held answers to questions I didn't even know how to ask.
The dim light from the single oil lamp flickered across his face, casting shadows that made him look older, harder. He'd been like this for days—distant, closed off. It was like talking to a stranger.
"Morning," I said, my voice rough from sleep. I rubbed my face, trying to shake off the remnants of a dream I couldn't quite remember—only the feeling of it lingered, a sense of being chased, of running and never getting anywhere.
My hands were cold, my fingers stiff as I ran them through my hair. The rain outside seemed to echo the heaviness in my chest, each drop a reminder of the storm that had been brewing between us.
Elias grunted in response, still not looking at me. The silence between us was heavy, thicker than the rain outside. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching out the knots in my back. My joints popped, the sound loud in the small space.
I glanced at my brother, noting the way his shoulders were hunched, the tension in his jaw. Something was off, more than usual. Elias had been distant for days, but this felt different. This felt like a wall had been built between us, one I wasn't sure I could climb.
"Elias," I started, hesitating. I didn't know how to broach the subject again, not after the last time. But I had to try. "We need to talk about Soren."
Elias's head snapped up, his eyes sharp and cold. "What about him?"
I swallowed, steeling myself. "He's gone. Just vanished. Doesn't that seem… wrong to you? People don't just disappear like that."
Elias set his mug down with a loud clink, the sound cutting through the quiet like a knife. The steam from the mug curled upward, dissipating into the cold air. "Maybe he ran. Maybe he didn't want to stick around and listen to you whine about how everything's a conspiracy."
The words stung, but I pressed on. "You know that's not true. Soren wouldn't just leave. Something's happening here, Elias. Something's wrong with this place. With the Risen. Can't you feel it?"
Elias stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. The sound was harsh, grating. "You always do this," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You always look for the worst in everything. Can't you just be grateful we have a roof over our heads? Food? Safety? Or is that not enough for you?"
I took a step back, startled by the venom in his voice. This wasn't the Elias I knew. The Elias I knew would have listened, would have at least considered the possibility. But this boy in front of me—his eyes were hard, his loyalty to the Risen unwavering, almost fanatical. It was like something had taken hold of him, something I couldn't understand.
"I'm not trying to—" I began, but Elias cut me off.
"Enough," he snapped. "I don't want to hear it. If you can't see how good we have it here, that's your problem. Not mine."
With that, Elias grabbed his coat and stormed out of the shack, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoed in the small space, leaving a ringing silence in its wake. I stood frozen, the sound of the rain filling the void left by his absence. My chest ached, a hollow feeling spreading through me. I had always been able to count on Elias, even when we disagreed. But now… now it felt like I was losing him, piece by piece.
---
I found Talia and Tobias near the edge of the camp, huddled under a makeshift shelter to escape the rain. The shelter was little more than a tarp stretched between two poles, but it was enough to keep the worst of the rain off.
Talia was pacing, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, while Tobias sat on an overturned crate, his head in his hands. The rain had turned the ground to mud, and their boots were caked with it. They both looked up as I approached, their expressions a mix of hope and despair.
"Any news?" Talia asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Her hair was plastered to her face, and her eyes were red-rimmed, like she hadn't slept.
I shook my head. "Nothing. Elias thinks Soren ran away."
Talia let out a bitter laugh. "Of course he does. He's so far up the Risen's ass he can't see what's right in front of him."
"Talia," Tobias said softly, a warning in his tone. But she ignored him.
"No, Tobias, I'm done pretending everything's fine. Soren's gone. And we all know he didn't just leave. Father Gideon is suspicious of us and if we don't find a way out soon, we're next."
I stepped forward, placing a hand on Talia's shoulder. She flinched but didn't pull away. Her jacket was damp under my fingers, and I could feel the tension in her muscles. "I'm not going to let that happen," I said, my voice firm. "I don't know how yet, but I'm going to figure it out. And when I do, we're getting out of here. All of us."
Talia looked at me, her eyes searching my face. For a moment, I thought she might argue, might tell me I was being naive. But then she nodded, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "Okay," she said. "Okay."
Tobias stood, his expression grim but determined. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, and his jaw was set. "What do you need us to do?"
I hesitated. I didn't have a plan, not yet. But I couldn't tell them that. They needed hope, even if it was just a sliver. "Stay close," I said finally. "Keep your eyes open. And don't trust anyone. especially not these Risen fuckers."
---
It was later that day, as the rain finally began to let up, that I found it. I had been wandering the edges of the camp, my mind racing, when I noticed a gap behind one of the old wooden shacks, hidden beneath piles of discarded cloth and crates.
I hesitated, glancing around. No one was watching. Slowly, I crouched down and moved the crates aside
and uncovered a hole just large enough for a person to fit through. My heart leapt into my throat as I peered inside, the faint smell of damp earth and something else—something metallic—reaching my nose.
Without thinking, I lowered myself into the hole, my feet finding purchase on a narrow ledge. The space was tight, the walls pressing in on me as I descended, but I forced myself to keep going.
The air grew cooler the deeper I went, and the smell of damp earth gave way to something sharper, more acrid. After what felt like an eternity, my feet hit solid ground. I was in a tunnel, the air cool and damp, the walls slick with moisture. A sewer system.
My pulse quickened as I began to explore, my footsteps echoing in the narrow space. The tunnels twisted and turned, branching off in different directions, but I pressed on, driven by desperation and hope.
The walls were rough under my fingertips, the stone worn smooth in places by years of water and decay. And then, after what felt like hours, I saw it—a faint light in the distance.
I hurried toward it, my breath coming in short gasps, until I emerged into a larger chamber. The light was coming from a grate above, the outside world visible through the bars.
We had a way out.
On my way back, my foot caught on something half-buried in the muck. I knelt, brushing away the filth, and uncovered a small, leather-bound book.
The cover was cracked and brittle, the pages yellowed and water-stained. I flipped through it, my heart sinking as I realized I couldn't read the words.
The script was unfamiliar, the letters jagged and foreign. But something about it felt important. I tucked the diary into my coat and made my way back to the camp.
That night, I gathered Talia and Tobias. The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words. After I checked that Elias was sound asleep, after this morning, I didn't know if I trusted him with what I'm about to share.
Talia and Tobias sat on the bed, their eyes fixed on me. The oil lamp flickered, casting long shadows on the walls. The rain had started up again, tapping against the roof like a constant reminder of the storm outside—and the one brewing within.