Chapter 3 - The Threads of the Unbroken

  Lucine had always wandered the abandoned ruins alone. She couldn’t remember the st time she felt the warmth of another soul, or heard a voice that wasn’t ced with malice or echoing in screams. She was born wrapped in a darkness that never lifted, a blinding kind of void that clung to her skin like smoke.

  The memories of those who once held her, loved her — if they ever did, had become vague silhouettes, blurring at the edges. Slowly, they faded into the wind, carried away like ashes from a long-dead fire.

  Even then, Lucine had learned to survive in her own way. The world had not offered her safety, so she never asked for it. With no companions, no treasures to cling to, she lived without the fear of loss, because she was already left with nothing.

  Her footsteps have echoed through broken streets and hollow buildings, ruins long swallowed by time and silence. Where others saw desotion, Lucine saw routine. Solitude became her shield. Hunger her teacher. Silence her closest friend.

  Meeting the man before her, Lucine felt something stir in the silence of her heart: a pulse, a breath, a quiet flicker of something long buried. For once, she didn’t feel like a ghost drifting through the world. For once, she felt alive.

  And for the first time in years, she wasn’t alone.

  His presence wasn’t loud or overwhelming. It was quiet, like a fire lit in the cold, flickering gently but unwavering. Lucine didn’t know what to call the feeling. It wasn’t trust, not yet. But it was something close. Something warm.

  She knew she couldn’t survive much longer on her own. She had made it this far, yes, but through hunger, silence, and loneliness. The path ahead was a fog of uncertainty. In the quiet pces of her heart, she realized what she had always longed for.

  A companion.

  Someone to ugh with, even when the world refused to be kind. Someone to share the weight she carried, to lighten the burden pressing down on her fragile heart. Someone to stand beside her when the scavengers came, when the darkness crept too close and the night stretched too long. Not a savior. Just someone to remind her she didn’t have to face it all alone.

  She knew people weren’t born cruel. It was the world — broken, shallow, and cold — that twisted them into reflections of what they feared most.

  Still, her faltering heart wasn’t ready for trust. Not fully. Not yet.

  And the man before her… she didn’t know if he was safety or danger wrapped in warmth. But the truth was, the burden had grown too heavy to carry alone.

  She bent her head, closing her eyes as a quiet sigh slipped from her lips. Her fingers reached up, gently adjusting the cracked frame of her gsses, nudging them higher on her nose. A small, familiar motion that grounded her.

  When she opened her eyes, she turned her gaze to the man before her.

  He y with his back to her, resting on a rough, weather-worn cloth spread over the ashen ground. For a moment, he seemed almost peaceful — contrast to the storm turning in her chest.

  Her lips parted, trembled slightly, caught between silence and the words she couldn’t yet say. Doubt crept into her thoughts. Could she take the risk? Trust a stranger in a world where kindness is rare and often dangerous?

  Or would she once again let the weight of fear keep her alone?

  Her gaze dropped to the old letter in her hand, the paper worn and creased from being held too tightly. She clutched it now like a lifeline, a reminder. Of purpose. Of hope.

  Of the reason she could no longer walk this path alone.

  She parted her lips, and with a breath full of hesitation, she finally spoke.

  “I found a strange letter,” she said, her voice cracking with nerves.

  Elian stirred slightly, surprised. A small, curious smile tugged at his dry, cracked lips.

  For a moment, silence hung in the air.

  Lucine waited, her heart unsteady.

  She didn’t know if telling him had been the right choice, but the words were already out, and there was no taking them back.

  Elian sat up slowly, the weight of the long day evident in his movements. He turned to face Lucine, a faint grin tugging at the corners of his lips. Not mocking, just quietly curious.

  “Is it anything stranger than everything we’ve seen so far?” he asked, voice light but edged with interest.

  Lucine hesitated, fingers tightening around the worn paper.

  “It’s… different,” she said softly, eyes fixed on the ground.

  “This one isn’t just scraps or old warnings. It’s personal. It feels like it was meant to be found.”

  She paused, then looked up. “I’ve been following it. That’s how I ended up here… alone.”

  Elian raised his eyebrows, curiosity sparking in his eyes as Lucine reached for her worn-out bag. The fabric was frayed at the edges, stained by dust and time. A silent reminder of how far she had traveled.

  Her hands moved carefully, almost gently, as she searched through the few belongings she carried. Then she found it, the first letter. The paper was yellowed, edges curled, as though it had weathered years waiting to be discovered.

  Lucine held it for a moment, her fingers trembling slightly.

  “This was the beginning,” she murmured, offering it to him. “The first letter. It’s what led me to the arcade.”

  Elian reached out for the letter, his heart pounding with a quiet excitement. The idea of discovering something new, something different from the endless greys and broken remnants of the ruins, stirred something inside him.

  He had grown numb to the sameness of it all. The wastend offered little but dust, silence, and stories long erased. But this… this felt like a beginning.

  For once, it was something other than the voice of silence.

  Not the haunting screams of survivors echoing through empty walls, not the long-abandoned dreams scattered like bones across the ground.

  Elian held the letter in his rough, ashen hands, his eyes moving slowly across the faded words etched into the brittle paper. Each line seemed to speak through the rusted edges, a message from a time long past, now finally uncovered.

  With every word, something inside him felt moved, a dimmed hope flickering to life, a promise of something new in this broken world.

  As he read the final words, a sense of certainty settled within him. This wasn’t just another piece of forgotten history, this was something different, something that might change everything.

  This was a whisper from the past and maybe, just maybe, a thread to the future.

  Elian was left speechless for a moment, his eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and excitement. The words on the page awakened something deep inside him, but as quickly as the hope sparked, doubt crept in.

  Could it be real? Or was it some cruel prank, a mockery from those in the elite cities who pyed with lives like toys?

  His fingers tightened around the letter, but his gaze remained fixed on the faded ink, a lingering doubt in his expression.

  Lucine stared at Elian, her gaze sharp, as if trying to peer past his carefully composed expression. She studied the faint unease in his eyes, weighing whether she could trust him with the truth, with everything.

  Her heart fluttered with hesitation. Could she really open up to him? Could she trust someone who might just be as lost and broken as she was?

  Both their minds spoke in silence, unvoiced thoughts swirling between them like shadows in the air. Lucine’s gaze held steady, trying to read the deeper yers of Elian’s expression, wondering if he shared the same doubts, the same fragile hope.

  Elian, on the other hand, felt her scrutiny, the weight of her silence pressing down on him. His mind raced, unsure whether this was just another trap. Another fleeting illusion in a world full of broken promises.

  Neither of them moved, as if waiting for the other to break the silence, to reveal something deeper.

  Finally, Elian let out a breath, his fingers still gripping the letter. He gnced up at Lucine, a brief shadow of doubt crossing his face.

  “This could be a trap,” he said quietly, the words ced with both caution and a tinge of regret. “It could be just another game pyed by the elites… or worse, someone who wants to see us fall.”

  Lucine’s heart skipped. She’d heard those voices before. Voices that mocked hope, that crushed dreams with cold logic. She opened her mouth, but no words came. She only nodded, the uncertainty in her eyes mirroring his.

  Then, slowly, she took a step forward, as though deciding that despite the risks, there was something worth fighting for.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. “But I have to find out.”

  Elian couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter, not just from the mystery of the letter, but from the quiet strength in Lucine’s voice. There was something admirable in the way she faced uncertainty with resolve. Despite her hesitation, she chose to move forward.

  He liked that.

  Elian had always been drawn to the thrill of the unknown. Risk was the rhythm of his life: adventures, dangerous roads, and impossible odds were his forté. But this… this felt different. This wasn’t just another ruin to explore or a scavenger run to gamble with. This was personal. And now, it was theirs.

  Elian, as if unable to control himself, painted a wide grin on his face, the kind that broke through the ash and silence like sunlight piercing through storm clouds.

  “Well,” he said, his voice lighter now, tinged with excitement, “you can’t expect me to just sit back after hearing all that.”

  He leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming. “If you’re heading into something this big… then count me in. I’ve walked every ruin and outrun every kind of scavenger, but this? This feels like the kind of madness worth chasing.”

  He paused, then added with a smirk, “Besides, someone has to keep you from falling into any more death traps.”

  Lucine couldn’t stop the small ugh that escaped her lips, soft, almost shy. For a moment, the weight on her chest eased. The ache of solitude didn’t vanish, but it loosened its grip just enough to let her breathe.

  She didn’t say much, just gave a slow nod and looked away, the corner of her mouth betraying the faintest upward curve.

  That night, the ruins were unusually still. No distant cries, no shifting rubble, only the soft hum of the wind weaving through broken metal and cracked stone.

  Neither of them slept.

  Not because of fear, or the cold, but because their hearts were too full of something unfamiliar. Not quite joy, not quite peace. But something warm and restless. Excitement. Relief.

  For the first time in a long while, they weren’t alone.

  And for two people who had grown used to walking through silence with no footsteps beside their own, the thought of having someone, just one person, to walk with was almost too much to believe.

  But it was real.

  And that made the night feel just a little less dark.

  When the sun arose, it felt lighter.

  Brighter.

  The ruins still crumbled. The wind still carried dust and ash. But something had changed.

  Or maybe… the world hadn’t changed at all.

  Maybe it was simply because, in the quiet of the night, they had shared the dim lights within their hearts. And together, those small flickers had cast enough warmth to make the morning seem less hollow.

  For once, the day didn’t feel like a burden waiting to be survived. It felt like the beginning of something.

  Elian and Lucine gathered their belongings as they braced themselves for the journey ahead.

  There was still ambiguity, the road stretched far beyond what they could see, scattered with ruins, whispers, and the remains of stories long forgotten. But now, they weren’t walking it alone.

  The thought of having a partner, a companion to face the silence, the danger, and the unknown, made it all feel less terrifying. The burden wasn’t lighter, but it was shared.

  And somehow, that made all the difference.

  Elian slung his worn pack over his shoulder and gave Lucine a sideways gnce. “Still sure about this?”

  Lucine adjusted her broken gsses and gave a quiet nod. “I’ve never been more certain.”

  They walked forward — two small figures against the vast, broken world.

  But not alone.