Hope

Ash and Promise

The sun was a pale coin in a sky of ash.

Every gust threw little knives of grit against their faces. Riven pulled his scarf higher and kept walking. The ruins rolled away in endless gray: half-collapsed towers, rusted highways, slag pits that steamed where heat still lived beneath the earth.

They had been walking for two days. Food was low. Shoes were wearing thin. The radio Dray had salvaged from the ARC lab still hummed sometimes, a pathetic thread of hope in a broken world.

Lio walked at Riven’s side, shuffling his feet through the dust. He carried a small pack with a battered metal bird inside—a dented toy that squeaked if you wound it. Riven had seen him do it each night, like winding it kept something alive.

“You think the bird remembers flying?” Lio asked.

Riven smiled faintly. “Maybe it remembers better than we do.”

The boy laughed—a small, real laugh that made the wasteland seem a little less cruel.

Shelter

They stopped when the wind picked up again. Nyra found an old station half-buried under rubble. They took shelter beneath the collapsed ceiling while Dray tinkered with his drone, and the group shared a silent meal of dried rations.

The wind howled outside. Firelight flickered against the cracked tiles.

It was Lio who broke the silence first.

“Can I tell a story?” he asked. His voice was shy, almost like he was asking for permission.

Riven nodded. “Go ahead.”

Lio turned the toy bird in his hands, thumb brushing its dented wing. “Before everything went bad, I lived near the river in the old city. My dad worked at the docks—he fixed boats, real ones, not those old scavenger things. He used to take me to the water at night.”

He smiled faintly. The firelight softened his face.

“He said if I listened close, I could hear the city breathe. The water made this sound—like the world’s heartbeat. I didn’t believe him, so one day he gave me this.” He held up the toy bird. “Said it would remember for me, in case I forgot what the world sounded like.”

No one spoke. The crackle of the fire filled the space.

“When the sirens started,” Lio continued, “we were supposed to go to the shelter. But Dad went back to get Mom—she was still at the clinic. The sky was already turning red by the time I saw them run back.” His voice faltered. “They didn’t make it through the gate before it closed.”

He wound the toy once, and the small, squeaky chirp broke the silence.

“So I keep this with me,” he said softly. “If the world ever breathes again… I want to hear it.”

Riven’s throat tightened. Even Nyra, who always looked like stone, had her head bowed.

Lio smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “Sorry. Guess that was a sad story.”

“No,” Riven said quietly. “It’s hope.”

Lio shrugged and tucked the bird close to his chest. “Then maybe I’ll tell another when we find your sister.”

The Storm

They moved again the next morning. The sky boiled gray and orange—storms building in the east. Dray checked his instruments. “Electrostatic front moving in fast. We need cover, or the charges will fry everything.”

But there was no time. The storm hit like a hammer. Dust and lightning tore across the plain. Visibility dropped to a few meters.

Through the chaos, Dray’s drone picked up faint movement—figures ahead, moving fast. Raiders.

“Down!” Nyra shouted.

They ducked behind rusted train cars. The storm howled, and within it, the Changed screamed. The monsters were drawn by the noise, twisting through the dust.

Dray’s fingers flew over his console. “I can jam the Raider signal for two minutes if I overload the emitter!”

“Do it!” Nyra barked.

He hesitated, then smiled faintly. “Guess I finally get to make something go boom.”

He linked the drone’s core, sparks leaping across the wet metal. The radio screamed into static. Vehicles stalled. The Changed turned, confused.

Then a shadow leapt out of the fog. One of the Changed—huge, fast, its flesh glowing faintly blue. It slammed into Dray before anyone could react.

Riven fired wildly, blowing chunks of flesh away, but it was too late. The creature’s claws tore through Dray’s side. Still, the man grinned through the blood.

“I’ve got it,” he wheezed, slamming the final switch. The jammer flared, and all Raider comms went dead. “Get them out!”

He pushed the pack toward Riven before the beast crushed him under its weight.

The drone exploded, frying the Changed and Dray with it in a burst of light.

Nyra’s scream was lost in the thunder.

The Last Promise

“Run!” she shouted.

Riven grabbed Lio’s hand and pulled him through the smoke. Eloen covered their flank, firing until her rifle clicked empty. They sprinted through the storm, the wind cutting like blades.

A flare went up—red. Raiders regrouping.

Then came the sound of metal slicing air.

A bolt from a Raider’s rifle struck the ground near Riven. The explosion threw him aside.

When the dust cleared—Lio was down.

He was lying on his back, clutching the metal bird to his chest. The fall had thrown him against a broken steel beam; blood soaked through his jacket.

Riven crawled to him, shaking. “No—no, stay with me.”

Lio’s eyes fluttered open. The faintest smile touched his lips.

“Riven… did you… wind the bird?”

Riven laughed through tears. “Yeah. Every night.”

Lio’s breath hitched. “Then don’t stop. Until you find her. Promise?”

“I promise,” Riven said, choking on the words.

Lio’s fingers trembled, then went still. The toy bird slipped from his hand and gave one soft squeak before falling silent forever.

Riven screamed into the storm, but the wind swallowed the sound.

They buried him when the sky cleared—a small mound under the rusted rail, marked by the blue scrap of cloth and the little metal bird.

Nyra stood behind Riven, face streaked with dirt and tears she refused to show. “We move at dawn,” she said quietly.

Riven nodded, staring at the grave. His hand shook as he touched the mound once more. “I’ll keep your story, Lio,” he whispered. “I’ll keep all of them.”

They turned toward the horizon, the faint signal of Epsilon blinking like a dying star in the ash.

Hope felt heavier now—but still alive.

And that was enough to keep walking.