Ashfall skies
979 Words
With every step, Kael inhaled—then exhaled.
He had been walking for two days now, Echo still unconscious across his back.
The wind howled low, like a warning whispered through broken trees.
Kael pressed forward. Her weight seemed to grow heavier with each passing mile.
The sky churned above them, painted in unnatural gray—thick clouds swirling in chaotic patterns as though the heavens themselves had been scarred by the Cataclysm.
A distant rumble echoed overhead.
Not thunder.
Something deeper.
Unearthly.
Then, the first drop hit his shoulder with a hiss.
Kael felt it before it landed: the sudden stillness.
The way the wind coiled, thick with tension—like the air itself held its breath.
His eyes flicked toward the sky—not in hope, but for confirmation.
The clouds had darkened into a sickly green-gray, laced with flickers of red static.
A storm born of the Cataclysm.
He adjusted his grip on Echo’s limp body.
"Not now," he muttered. "Not this kind."
They were still miles from the nearest safe zone.
The terrain was treacherous—fractured roads, skeletal buildings.
The rain was seconds away. And this wasn’t the kind that nourished.
This was corrosion from the sky.
Since the Cataclysm, weather had become something else. Acidic. Unstable. Alive.
Survivors called it blood rain.
Some said it peeled flesh. Others whispered it could embed memories in your mind.
Kael knew enough to believe both.
He broke into a run, boots pounding against cracked asphalt, shielding Echo beneath his coat.
She stirred faintly, her breath still shallow.
"Stay with me," he whispered, unsure if she could even hear him.
Then he spotted it—an old subway entrance, half-buried in debris.
Rusted rails. A broken sign. Stairs descending into shadow.
Shelter.
He lunged through the threshold just as the storm burst open.
A sharp hiss filled the air. Rain collided with metal and stone, leaving sizzling burns wherever it touched.
The tunnel filled with the scent of ozone, acid, and something far worse—unnatural.
Kael gently laid Echo on a dry patch of concrete, then leaned against the wall, chest rising and falling in deep, controlled breaths.
He unwrapped the scarf from his face, letting the air cool his skin.
Suddenly—crack!
A pipe snapped overhead.
A jagged piece of metal dropped straight toward Echo’s head.
Kael didn’t flinch.
Didn’t even blink.
The shard stopped midair—frozen, inches above her skull.
A low hum filled the tunnel.
The metal trembled, then warped, curling in on itself before clanging harmlessly to the ground.
Silence.
Kael’s gaze pierced the dark. His eyes glowed faintly—not bright, but deep, like looking into something ancient.
Something waiting.
Then, it faded.
He exhaled slowly, rubbing his face like a man bone-tired.
"If only we had met under different circumstances," he muttered, resting Echo’s head gently on his shoulder.
A puddle reflected their image—two broken figures in a broken world.
"Wow... you really are beautiful," he whispered. "I wonder... if you'll remember me, once your memories return."
He yawned, slow and deep, like a tired construction worker after a long day's labor.
His eyes drifted shut.
"What if we never fought the Serum Soldiers? Never caused the Cataclysm? Would the world still have turned out this way?"
His voice faded into sleep.
Time's reversal is as impossible
as wishing the wind to slow.
Splash!
Water hit his face.
Kael jolted awake.
Voices echoed all around.
Echo lay nearby—unmoving.
He was a few feet from her, arms bound.
Movement felt restricted.
His vision adjusted.
They were surrounded.
Scavengers.
"Scavengers!" Kael spat.
"Hey, who the hell you calling scavengers?" one barked.
"What do you want from us?" Kael asked, his tone steady.
"Just two questions," one said with a twisted grin.
"What’s a fine shawty like her doing with a guy like you?"
"And what’s a guy like you doing with a fine girl like her?"
Laughter followed—sharp and cruel.
One of them stepped closer, his gaze locked on Echo.
"Wait a minute…" he muttered.
"I’ve seen her before."
Others turned toward her.
"You’re right," another murmured. "Ain’t she with... the Order?"
The laughter died.
Their expressions changed.
Eyes widened. Mouths trembled.
Their bodies stiffened with fear.
"Kill her while she’s unconscious!" someone screamed.
A scavenger yanked an axe from his belt, raising it above Echo’s head.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen... let’s be civil," Kael tried.
"Kill her!" they shouted.
The axe came down—
—and stopped.
Inches from her face.
"Why did you stop?!" one yelled.
"I… I don’t know!" the wielder stammered, trembling.
His arms shook. His stance wavered.
Then… he began to rise.
Weightless.
Levitating like paper caught in the wind.
Kael’s eyes glowed faintly red.
"You people never learn," he said coldly.
"You… you’re one of them!" they gasped, stepping back in horror.
"I’m not here to kill anyone," Kael said as the ropes around him snapped.
"Leave us, and you’ll be fine."
"You monsters should all go to hell!" one screamed, pulling something from his pocket.
A whistle.
Small. Wooden. Dark brown.
Kael’s eyes widened.
Wait…
That whistle…?
"Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!" he yelled.
"You’ll kill us all!"
"Do you think I care?" the man sneered.
"Even if it means my life—as long as the Order dies with me."
"We’re not with the Order," Kael said, his voice calm and sincere.
"Lies! I know what I saw!"
"The Order will rot in hell!"
He raised the whistle to his lips.
"Noooo!" Kael screamed.
He blew.
The sound was faint—
—but shrill.
Like rusted metal grinding against itself.
Then—
Silence.
A silence so complete,
you could hear a pin hit the floor.
Kael’s hands trembled.
His heart thundered in his chest.
"You fool..." he muttered, voice thick with dread.
"What have you done?"
- Writer
