Broken Sage

Chapter 1.0

The wind howled through the trees, rustling the branches of towering pines as the afternoon sun filtered through the thick canopy. Birds chirped somewhere in the distance, but the deeper parts of the woods remained silent.

Amanda Flynn crouched outside their cabin, sharpening a crude dagger against a river stone. The blade, carved from an old metal scrap they had scavenged long ago, wasn’t much, but it was sharp enough to kill if needed.

She glanced toward the cabin’s entrance.

A small, broken-down structure nestled in the heart of the wilderness; the cabin was barely standing. Its wooden frame sagged with age, patches of moss creeping over the rotting walls. The door hung slightly off its hinges, a testament to years of exposure and weathering. Inside, they had done what they could—patching holes with cloth, reinforcing weak spots with salvaged wood, building a small fire pit. It was home.

For seven years, Amanda and her twin sister, Addison, had lived in the wilderness. Seven years of survival, of running, of hiding from something they barely understood.

A rustling sound made Amanda pause. She looked up as Addison stepped out of the cabin, bow slung across her back, her forest-green eyes scanning the woods.

“You feel it too?” Amanda asked.

Addison nodded. “The forest is too quiet.”

Amanda sighed, sheathing her dagger at her hip. “Maybe the animals just don’t like us today.”

When the forest fell into unnatural silence, it meant something was wrong.

“Let’s not take chances,” Addison said. “We need food anyway.”

Amanda stood, brushing dirt off her pants. “Fine. But I swear, if we eat fish again, I’m going to lose my mind.”

Addison smirked slightly. “Then let’s find something better.”

They moved through the trees like ghosts, silent and careful. Addison led the way, her bow in hand, arrow nocked but not drawn. Amanda followed closely; her senses sharp. The twins were no longer helpless children. The years had shaped them into skilled hunters, their movements calculated and efficient.

Addison paused, scanning the forest floor. “Tracks,” she whispered.

Amanda crouched beside her, eyes tracing the indentations in the damp earth. “Deer,” she confirmed. “Fresh.” They followed the tracks, weaving through dense foliage. Every step was precise, their bodies moving in harmony with the forest.

Then, Amanda saw it—just beyond the trees, a young buck stood grazing, its ears twitching at the faintest sound.

Addison raised her bow, drawing the string back in one fluid motion. She exhaled slowly, steadying her aim.

Then, a soft snap echoed through the trees.

The deer’s ears flicked up. In an instant, it bolted, disappearing into the forest.

Amanda cursed under her breath. “You stepped on a twig.”

Addison lowered her bow, frowning. “That wasn’t me.”

Amanda’s heart skipped a beat.

They weren’t alone.

The twins exchanged a glance, their silent bond confirming what they both felt.

Someone had been here.

Amanda turned her attention to the ground. A second set of tracks—boot prints. Deep, deliberate.

Her stomach twisted.

“Whoever it was, they were watching us,” Addison murmured.

Amanda swallowed hard. “Then we need to go.”

Addison hesitated. “Not yet. We still need food.”

Amanda clenched her fists but nodded. Even with the unease creeping into her bones, survival came first.

They continued hunting, eventually managing to bring down a smaller deer. As they worked quickly to prepare the meat, Amanda’s thoughts remained elsewhere.

They had been careful all these years. Never staying in one place too long. Never leaving obvious tracks.

So how had someone found them?

The sun had barely begun to set when they started heading back toward the cabin, the weight of their kill balanced between them. The quiet of the forest had not returned to normal.

Amanda’s instincts screamed at her. Something was wrong.

Then, the gunshot rang out.

Amanda didn’t think—she moved.

She tackled Addison to the ground just as the bullet tore through the air where her sister’s head had been. They hit the earth hard, rolling behind a fallen log.

Addison gasped. “Sniper.”

Amanda’s pulse pounded in her ears. “One shooter.”

More shots followed, splintering the wood near them. They pressed themselves against the ground, breathing hard.

Amanda scanned the trees, searching. A glint of metal—there.

We need to move.

Through their twin bond, Addison’s voice echoed in Amanda’s mind. I’ll draw fire. You flank.

Amanda hesitated. That’s risky. So is sitting here waiting to die. Amanda exhaled sharply. Fine. On your mark.

Addison gripped her bow. Then, in one swift motion, she sprang up and sprinted toward the trees.

The sniper reacted instantly. A bullet ripped through the air.

Amanda moved.

Darting through the underbrush, she circled wide, using the trees for cover. She spotted him now—a masked figure, rifle raised, tracking Addison.

He never saw Amanda coming.

She lunged, her dagger flashing.

The man barely had time to react before she tackled him, slamming him into a tree. His gun fired into the air as they struggled. Amanda fought like an animal, years of survival instinct taking over.

Addison emerged; bow drawn. “Amanda—!”

Amanda pressed the blade to the man’s throat. “Who are you?”

He chuckled.

Amanda’s grip tightened. “I asked you a question.”

The man exhaled. “You don’t remember, do you?”

Amanda’s blood ran cold.

Addison stepped closer; her green eyes dark. “Remember what?”

The man smirked beneath his mask. “Project Ethos.”

Amanda’s head exploded with pain. Memories—fragments of something long buried—rushed to the surface. Cold metal tables. Needles. Voices whispering in the dark. Shadows moving around them. Pain. Fear.

She gasped, stumbling back. Addison caught her.

The man laughed. “You thought you escaped?” His tone was mocking. “You were never free.”

Amanda’s vision blurred. The name Project Ethos felt like a curse.

Addison’s hands shook on her bowstring. “You should’ve stayed dead.” She loosed the arrow.

The man barely had time to react before the arrow struck his shoulder. He cursed, staggering backward. But before Amanda could finish him off, he threw something to the ground—

A smoke bomb. The forest exploded into thick, choking fog.

Amanda coughed, waving her hand in front of her face. “No—!”

By the time the smoke cleared, the man was gone. The twins stood there, breathing hard, their hearts pounding.

Amanda turned to Addison. “Project Ethos.”

Addison nodded grimly.

They didn’t need to say it.

The past had found them. And it wasn’t going to let them go.

Great! I’ll expand on Chapter 2, giving it the same depth and detail as Chapter 1, focusing on the aftermath of the attack, their emotional states, and the decisions they face as night falls.

________________ 9 hours Later... Night

The night had fallen quickly, the dark sky blanketed with stars as the twins sat in their cabin, the flickering glow of a small fire casting long shadows on the walls.

Addison’s hands were stained with the blood of the masked man they had confronted, but it didn’t bother her. She had grown numb to the sight of blood over the years—hers, Amanda’s, and others.

Amanda sat beside the fire, staring at the flames as they danced, her face pale in the dim light. Her usually sharp eyes were clouded with thoughts she didn’t want to speak out loud. The memories of Project Ethos had surfaced violently, and they left a deep scar on her mind.

Neither of them spoke for a long time, the silence pressing heavily between them.

Addison’s voice broke the quiet, quiet but firm. “We need to leave.”

Amanda blinked slowly, as if trying to understand what her sister was saying. “Leave? What do you mean?”

“The cabin. The forest. Everything. They know where we are now. They’ll come for us.”

Amanda opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Addison was right. Deep down, she knew it too. The encounter had been too close. Whoever the man was, Project Ethos was far from a simple memory. It was a threat.

“I—” Amanda paused; her fingers clenched tightly into fists. “I didn’t think they would find us.” Her voice was shaky now. “I thought we were safe.”

Addison’s gaze softened, but it wasn’t pity. She understood the weight of that hope. “We never were. Not really.”

The words stung. Amanda didn’t reply. Instead, she reached for the water skin near her side and took a long drink, the cool liquid refreshing, but still unable to wash away the weight of the fear that had returned.

They had never spoken much about what had happened to them before they ran—too much of it was lost in the fog of their minds. But Project Ethos, that name alone, brought back flashes of their past—of the lab, the experiments, the whispers of people they could not see. They were more than just survivors; they were the product of something monstrous.

“Addison…” Amanda’s voice broke through her thoughts, softer now. “What if we’re not just running from them? What if we’re running from ourselves?”

Addison tilted her head, her face hard but a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

Amanda shifted uncomfortably, her hands clasping around her knees. “What if we’re not supposed to be free? What if we were created for a reason? A purpose?” Her voice cracked. “What if we can’t escape that?”

The question hung heavy in the air, and Addison stood up, pacing in front of the fire. Her eyes were sharp, but her thoughts betrayed her uncertainty. “We’ve been free for seven years. You and I."