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Part 1: Fragile Like Snow, Chapter 17: Into The Fray

  Genova strode confidently toward the crimson dome, her leather jacket flapping in the wind, the oppressive red glow reflecting sharply in her eyes. The air grew heavier with every step, charged with an energy that seemed to push against her, daring her to stop. She didn’t falter.

  When she reached the barrier, she raised a hand, her fingers brushing its surface. It was cold, unnaturally smooth, and pulsing faintly, as though alive. The vibration against her palm would have sent most people stumbling back, but Genova held her ground, her jaw tightening as she braced herself.

  "Let’s see what you’re hiding this time," she muttered, her voice low but biting.

  Planting her palm firmly against the dome, she pushed. The barrier resisted, shuddering violently, but Genova only pressed harder, her focus sharp and unwavering. The hum grew louder, an almost angry whine, before an ear-splitting crack shattered the tension. The crimson wall fractured like brittle glass, shards of energy breaking away and dissolving into the air. Before her, a small, shimmering passageway opened, the distorted light within beckoning like a twisted invitation.

  Reaching for the radio at her side, she brought it to her lips.

  "Yule reporting," she said curtly.

  "I’ve breached the barrier. Entering now."

  Her boot hovered over the threshold, ready to step forward—until a voice, calm and controlled, broke through the oppressive silence.

  "Wait."

  The single word stopped her mid-motion, not from fear but sheer irritation. Her head snapped around, her hand still resting on the edge of the fractured barrier. The red haze behind her shifted, and from its depths emerged a man.

  His figure was an unassuming plain shirt, worn jeans, boots caked with dirt, but there was an undeniable presence about him, one that demanded attention without raising its voice. A weathered axe hung across his back, its blade nicked and stained.

  Genova’s sharp eyes scanned him with the precision of someone trained to spot trouble. Her gaze locked on his face, and her breath caught.

  "E- Enoch?" she hissed, her voice rising sharply with disbelief.

  The composure she always carried, as sure as her shadow, cracked for just a moment. Recognition hit her like a physical blow, and the name slipped from her lips before she could think. Enoch didn’t respond immediately. He simply stood there, his posture relaxed but his presence unyielding. His piercing gaze met hers, calm and implacable, like a still lake hiding a dangerous depth.

  Genova’s expression twisted, shock giving way to anger as she stomped toward him, her hands balled into fists at her sides.

  "You’ve got to be kidding me," she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut.

  "What the hell are you doing here? You’re supposed to be dead!"

  Enoch raised an eyebrow, unperturbed by her outburst.

  "Nice to see you too, Genova," he said, his tone even.

  "Don’t you dare ‘nice to see you’ me," she shot back, pointing a finger at him like a weapon.

  "Do you have any idea what- how-" She cut herself off, running a hand through her hair in exasperation before jabbing it in his direction.

  "No. No way. You do not just stroll back from the dead and act like everything’s normal. Explain. Right. Now."

  Enoch’s calm gaze didn’t waver.

  "There’s no time for explanations," he said, his voice steady but firm.

  "If you’re going into that dome, I’m coming with you."

  Genova let out a bitter laugh, loud and incredulous.

  “Like hell you are!” she snapped, advancing until they were nearly nose to nose.

  "I don’t know where you’ve been or how you’re even alive, but you don’t get to just show up, fucking bark orders at me, and act like you’re calling the shots!"

  "I’m not here to call any shots," Enoch replied evenly, though his eyes flashed with a faint intensity.

  "But I’m going in that dome whether you like it or not."

  Genova scoffed, and laughed mockingly.

  "Oh, so now you’re the authority on the disasters? Did you come back from the dead with something I don’t know about? Because last I checked, I’m the one who’s been cleaning up this mess for years."

  "And you’ll die cleaning up this one if you go in alone," Enoch shot back, his tone quiet but pointed.

  The words hit her harder than she expected, her fury faltering for a split second before it reignited.

  "Don’t you dare lecture me about survival. You have no fucking idea what I’ve been through."

  "Genova," Enoch said, his gaze steady, "listen to me."

  His calm only stoked her temper. She clenched her fists, hesitated for a second, then threw a punch.

  "You arrogant piece of shit."

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  Enoch took a step forward, as her fist landed on his cheeks, slightly bruising them.

  "Genova," he said quietly but firmly, "you don’t have to like me. You don’t even have to trust me. But whatever’s in that dome this time, we both know it’s bigger than you or me. If we don’t stop arguing and focus, we’re not going to make it out."

  Genova clenched her fists, glaring at him, her breath coming fast as her anger simmered. For a long moment, they stood in tense silence, the air between them crackling with unspoken emotions.

  Finally, she exhaled sharply.

  "Fine."

  A faint smile ghosted across Enoch’s lips, so fleeting it might not have been there at all.

  Genova turned sharply on her heel, heading back to the shattered barrier.

  "But we’re talking about this later," she snapped over her shoulder. “And by ‘talking,’ I mean you spilling every damn secret.”

  "Of course," Enoch said mildly, his voice betraying nothing.

  Guards clad in heavy armor surrounded Enoch as he stood at the edge of the crimson dome, their rifles and energy weapons trained on him, fingers tense on the triggers. The air crackled with tension, thick enough to suffocate.

  “Dr. Yule! Be careful!” a scientist shouted from the edge of the tent, their voice cutting through the commotion.

  Genova Yule, brushing dust from her leather jacket, barely spared them a glance before turning to the guards.

  “Stand down,” she commanded, her tone ice-cold.

  “He’s with me.”

  The soldiers hesitated, glancing at one another. Their fingers twitched near their triggers.

  “Dr. Yule-” one of them started, but she cut him off sharply.

  “I said stand down. Do you need me to spell it out for you?”

  Her glare was enough to freeze them in place. Slowly, the guards lowered their weapons, their unease still evident.

  Enoch gave a slight nod of thanks, though his expression remained unreadable. The axe on his back caught the crimson light, its weathered blade gleaming ominously. Genova studied him for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly before her lips curled into the faintest smile.

  “Some things never change.”

  Without waiting for a reply, she pivoted on her heel and stepped forward, pushing through the shattered opening in the dome. Enoch followed silently.

  Together, they stepped toward the crimson dome.

  ...

  The moment they crossed the threshold, the oppressive atmosphere of the dome bore down on them like a living thing. The air reeked of blood and burnt flesh, thick with the iron tang of death. Faint wails drifted through the silence, some close, some far, all blurring into the eerie hum of the cursed land. The crimson glow of the moon twisted the world in unnatural hues, bathing the ruined landscape in shades of dying embers.

  Enoch’s jaw tightened as the memories surged, this air, this crushing weight, this maddening light. He hadn’t felt it since the day he “died.”

  For a while, they walked in silence. Their boots crunched against the ash-covered ground, the sound swallowed quickly by the thick, stagnant air. The eerie quiet stretched between them, broken only by the occasional distant scream.

  Finally, Genova spoke, cutting through the silence like a knife.

  “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting to see you of all people.”

  Her voice was even, but there was something else beneath it, a curiosity laced with something sharper.

  Enoch hesitated for a moment before answering.

  “I’m here for my daughter.”

  Genova stopped mid-stride. She turned on her heel, facing him fully.

  “You’ve got a daughter?”

  The surprise in her voice was raw, almost accusatory.

  “Yeah,” Enoch said, his voice quiet but firm.

  Genova folded her arms, narrowing her eyes.

  “So what?” she asked, her tone laced with biting sarcasm.

  “You just waltz back into the land of the living, play house, and now you’re here on some father-of-the-year redemption arc?”

  Enoch exhaled sharply through his nose, his patience fraying.

  “It’s not like that. She was on a school trip. I didn’t expect…”

  He gestured to the blood-soaked landscape around them.

  Genova tilted her head, scrutinizing him.

  “A school trip? Here? To this godforsaken nightmare?”

  Enoch shrugged helplessly.

  “Pretty sure it wasn’t this when they got here.”

  She snorted, turning on her heel and resuming her pace.

  Maybe she briefly wonders if he’s changed, but before the thought can settle, she chuckles out.

  “Great parenting, as always.”

  Enoch didn’t respond, but he quickened his pace to match hers. The silence stretched again, tense and brittle. After a beat, Genova spoke once more, her tone sharper than before.

  “So, what’s your wife like?”

  Enoch blinked, caught off guard.

  “Come again?”

  “Your wife,” Genova repeated, her voice casual, too casual.

  “The mother of your daughter. She must be something else to have... tamed you, of all people.”

  There was sarcasm in her tone, but underneath it, something colder.

  Bitterness, well-masked but not hidden.

  Enoch sighed.

  “She’s… kind, very kind. Strong. The best person I could ever fall in love with.”

  Genova scoffed, her jaw tightening ever so slightly.

  “Figures. Must be nice, having that kind of life waiting for you.”

  Her pace quickened, her boots grinding against the dirt.

  “Meanwhile, some of us have been cleaning up the messes you left behind unfinished.”

  Enoch stopped walking, his expression darkening.

  “Genova-”

  She didn’t let him finish. She waved him off, her voice clipped.

  “Forget it. Let’s just get to the town before your daughter gets herself killed.”

  For a moment, Enoch just watched her, his mind cycling through things he could say, but he knew better. He had known Genova for a long time. This was her way of building walls, and now wasn’t the time to try and break them down.

  With a sigh, he fell in step beside her. The burning lights of Krenkol came into view, flickering like dying stars on the horizon. Fires raged in the distance, painting the broken buildings in violent oranges and sickly yellows. The scent of scorched wood and burning flesh mingled in the air, thick enough to taste.

  The groans in the unseen distance grew louder.

  Genova didn’t slow, her expression set, unreadable.

  “Your daughter’s either really lucky or really stupid if she has survived this long. Let’s hope it’s the former.”

  Enoch’s grip tightened around the handle of the axe strapped to his back.

  “She’s stronger than you think.”

  Genova’s eyes flickered toward him, but she said nothing. Then, in a voice quieter than before, she muttered,

  “Let’s hope so.”

  The two figures pressed forward, disappearing into the burning chaos ahead.

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