Rain

  The sky is a smear of blue, the twin suns clinging to it with a small hue of red. The boat beneath me creaks with each icy wave that sps its sides. I y on the shivering carcass adrift in this vast graveyard, watching my foggy breaths curl into delicate wisps before dissolving.

  Numbness has become an old friend, one that wraps itself around me like the algid I can’t escape. I gnce at my hands—stiff, curled into fists that haven’t unclenched in hours.

  And pain. It has dulled to a slow throbbing, a kind that is enough to remind me that I’m alive, even if it feels like a joke at this point.

  “You should have died there.”

  His voice slithers.

  “I shut you out,” I rasp, on my final breaths. “You’re not real.”

  “I was never real to you, was I?” He muses, tone ced with venom. “But that didn’t stop you from screaming my name in the storm, did it?”

  I clench my teeth.

  Shut up.

  The water rocks beneath me in a slow, rhythmic lull, calling sleep to tch against my skull. But I don’t let it take me. I can’t. The cold will eat me alive if I do.

  I reach for my bag. I have some ice there. I can drink it—

  My frozen hand drops it in the water.

  I gasp, sitting straight, throwing my arms to grab it, but it's gone.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  Maybe I should turn back.

  Maybe that frozen hell is better than this after all.

  “It is only going to get worse.” Illume whispers. I can feel his hot breath against my ear.

  The wind howls through the emptiness, dragging ghosts across the water. I pull my coat tighter, but it does nothing against the ache buried underneath.

  A thunderous rumble wakes me from my failing slumber. I open my heavy eyelids.

  It's not from the sky, but from the ocean itself. The tremors rise through the wood, the waves ripple, pulled by something massive.

  I push myself up, lightheaded, muscles under the spell of the cold. And then I see it—emerging from the mist like a behemoth splitting the horizon.

  A ship.

  Not just any ship.

  It is colossal, a silhouette of steel and hunger, its engines growling menacingly. The hull rises from the water, glistening with frost, its surface jagged like the spine of some ancient beast. It moves with purpose, cutting through the ocean, bound for something unseen beyond the horizon.

  I forget to breath.

  I stumble forward, gripping the boat’s edge, raising a trembling hand. I have to make them see me.

  “I am here.” I croak.

  But they don’t hear me. They don't slow. The ship doesn’t acknowledge my existence.

  Because to them, I am invisible.

  “Insignificant. Like driftwood,” Illume whispers, almost fondly. “You always were.”

  No.

  If they can't see me, I'll find my own way in.

  I start paddling, my bones grinding against each other, stripping flesh off my arms. But I won't stop. I can’t stop. If I miss this chance, I'll die.

  I'll be a dead corpse floating in this ocean.

  A warning flickers in my vision: Do not trust anyone.

  I let out a sharp breath, half in frustration, half in acknowledgment. Five years of isotion drilled that lesson into me well enough. I made that mistake once. Not anymore, and the View is here to make sure of it.

  My eyes dart upward, catching the glint of a heavy chain swaying just above the waterline.

  I grit my teeth, reaching out, and yank it. The chain rattles, digging into my skin, but I don’t loosen my grip. My foot slips against the hull as I hoist myself up. The View pulses in the corner of my eye—Muscle fatigue detected. Risk of colpse. I shove the alerts aside, pulling my body higher. I’ve come too far to stop now.

  I'm halfway up, almost there. But my grip is faltering. I can feel my fingers peel away from the frozen links, one by one—then, with a violent jerk, I tch onto the chain again.

  I bite down a scream, forcing my limbs to obey. Not yet, I can do more.

  The wind howls past me, whipping through my soaked clothes as I haul myself over the railing and colpse onto the deck.

  For a long quiet minute, I just y there, sprawled across the metal, gasping for breath. I did it.

  I shut my eyes feeling the ship breathing beneath me, the hum of its engines sending warmth through the floor.

  Warmth.

  I exhale. Steam rises from my skin. My breath—my body—is releasing heat.

  Fascinated, I push myself up on shaking arms, watching the thin wisps curl into the sunlit air. The suns—they're rising. Golden. The rays stretch across the ship, catching on the frost that coats my sleeves, turning it into glistening droplets. The moisture slides off my skin like melting gss.

  It’s strange. Alien.

  I lift my hands toward the light, watching as the heat soaks into my fingers, prickling like tiny needles. My bones, my muscles, everything aches, but the warmth dulls it. I don’t remember the st time I felt something this… gentle.

  Laughter.

  I flinch.

  Down the deck, voices rise—talking, ughing.

  Human voices.

  People.

  I haven’t heard another person in years.

  I—I can finally get out of this nightmare.

  My feet lift before I can think. I—

  Do not trust anyone.

  The View cuts through my thoughts, static ripping at the edges of my vision.

  I freeze.

  The warmth, the golden light, the voices—it all fades under that single reminder.

  I swallow hard. My stomach churns, twisting with something ugly. It doesn’t matter how much I want to go to them. I mustn't.

  The ache in my gut sharpens, my stomach growling heavily.

  My eyes dart around, nding on a man slumped in a chair, snoring softly. A bag hangs from the back of his seat.

  I move.

  Slow. Careful.

  I reach into the bag, fingers brushing over pstic—it's water—and something crinkly. I pull out both and retreat. But then—

  A sharp cng.

  Shit.

  My foot hit a loose crate. The man stirs, muttering.

  “Hey—” he shouts, searching around. “Where’s my damn water!?”

  I duck behind another crate, heart hammering.

  I need this more. He should eat ice for a change.

  I scan the ship—an iron container looms just ahead. If I climb it, I can get a vantage point.

  I cw my way up, fingers still slick with seawater. Sunray hits my face as I roll on top.

  I tear open the food packet with shaking hands. The scent wafts up, rich and earthy. I know these—truffle chips. My View stutters, they’re bitter.

  But it’s all I have.

  As soon as I shove one into my mouth, something inside me explodes.

  Salt. Oil. Fvor.

  It’s overwhelming. My throat tightens. I don’t know if I want to ugh or cry.

  I shove another in. Then another. I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. It’s so different from the bnd, dense bricks I had to survive by.

  This is life. This is pleasure.

  I twist the cap off the water bottle, tilting it back. The lukewarm liquid rushes down my throat, and I nearly choke on it. It burns in a way ice never could. My body shudders as the warmth spreads through me, deep into my frozen bones.

  I stare down at the bottle, fingers curling around it. How could something so simple be so—

  The View flickers again, fshing warnings:

  Body temperature rising.

  Fever detected.

  Risk of system failure.

  I scroll past them, half-focused, my fingers sluggish. The usual alerts—fatigue, muscle degradation, hypothermia—blur together.

  I want them gone.

  I just want to enjoy this.

  Then—

  It glitches. A flicker of corrupted text.

  And in its pce—

  The Consummates. The pinnacle of human evolution.

  I freeze.

  The food I was enjoying, the water that felt like nectar sliding down my parched throat—all of it dies away.

  The Consummates. Better. Smarter. The ones who reshaped themselves into something beyond human.

  And here I am. A half-dead wreck, picking scraps from a sleeping man’s bag.

  “You are worse.” Illume mutters, returning with a breeze.

  I remember his hands pressing against my throat.

  He said his state was because of me.

  “That's right,” he agrees, almost gleefully, “Just end it already.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut. My pulse pounds in my skull.

  Then—

  A deep rumble.

  I jolt upright. The deck beneath me is vibrating.

  A shadow falls over me.

  I gnce towards the horizon.

  The suns, once golden and high, now hang behind a wall of bck water.

  A tidal wave.

  It stretches across the ocean, blotting out the sky, swallowing everything. The ship tilts as the engines roar, fighting against the pull of the oncoming wave.

  Shouts rise from the crew. Arms go bring.

  Panic. Fear. Urgency.

  The wind howls, and with it—

  “Here, an easy way out.”

  Illume’s voice.

  I grit my teeth.

  I won’t drown.

  I won't die.

  My eyes dart around the deck.

  —there!

  A lifeboat. To the side of the ship. Small, but enough.

  I push myself up, legs weak but moving.

  The waves are closing in.

  One kilometer till impact.

  The View practically screams.

  I ignore it.

  Five hundred meters.

  I jump the lifeboat, fingers closing around the release lever. I yank. It jams.

  Three.

  I grunt, bracing myself, and shout, “Open!”

  —Two.

  Pulling again. Harder—One!

  The lever snaps free. The lifeboat crashes into the water. The wave comes crashing against the ship.

  I don’t have time to jump—I fall over.

  The ocean swallows me whole. Cold. Darkness.

  I am not dying.

  I am not dying.

  I break the surface, gasping, reaching. My fingers tch onto the boat’s edge.

  I haul myself inside.

  I made it.

  But now what?

  What difference does this make?

  Then—

  The world breaks apart.

  Another tide. Bigger.

  The ocean itself—Crash.

  The shouts drown. Metal groans. The ship tilts, the deck lurching. I grab at my wooden boat, twisting as the shadow of the ship looms. The sky vanishes. Water swallows everything in a wall of bck.

  Impact—

  Like being smmed into stone.