THE PLOWMAN WAS HERE. After days and months of dreading to see its ugly face, it’s no wonder that it had finally shown its hooding white cloak and cold sharp fangs. Trees had lost their green and were bending their heads in subjection, wailing with the blistering winds that dusted the white fog. There were no sands, stones or anything that could contrast its challenging tuff. This time of the year was a time Kristen would have wished to be in the comfort of her bed. If this were Freetown, she would have used the heater to keep her room warm, and since the emperor normally declares holidays, she would have had every single moment to herself. Even if she wanted to work, it would be indoors, within the comfort of a nice hot coffee, and a warm fire to keep her body from these angry white fangs. And with Cazlin cracking one of those silly jokes of his. Cazlin. She breathed in as the thought walked through the edges of her mind. The man was full of jokes and would make her life until her c

It was the ringing in her ears and the dust in her mouth that made her realize she was no longer spinning in the air. Coughing, she tried to raise her head, but her hands and feet were suddenly numb. There was even a thump at the back of her head, pulsing slowly like a second heart. Swallowing was difficult, and the dust in her mouth caused the side of her lips to burn terribly. Everywhere burnt. From her nose, the side of her face, and her ears. She must have brushed her face on the surface of a stone. And the ringing in her ears was becoming too loud that she could barely hear herself think. Why did it hurt so bad? The first fall had been better. The ground had cushioned her and had prevented her from getting aching muscles. What has changed? Why did it hurt so badly?Coughing, Kristen tried to return to her feet. She could move her head, and it seemed the stiff neck had regained its grace. However, the rest of her body kept their mind, preventing her from even moving her fingers, f

Despite having the hood on, they kept their heads down as they walked through the seas of people, swimming to the far side and hoping to beat the crowd or be swept by its unfavorable tides. Smells of sweat followed their hasty feet, blending with the shouts and screams of excitement. Catherine had said something about a game that was held once in four years. At first, Damian’s curiosity had piqued him into thinking that it was the world cup. But after Catherine had explained that the ball was not played with the foot but with hands, he had lost every interest. He was not a fan of sport but had loved football at one time. It was a long time ago. Handball was his least favorite. He had always wondered why adults would engage in children’s activity and call it a sport.“Towards the alley,” Catherine coughed and nodded to the other side of the road. Damian pulled her in, shading and guiding her by the shoulders towards the lone street. That didn’t register well, especially since they were

Damian shuddered, walking towards the lone streets and hanging his air pipe on his nose. Night was heavy on its cloak and had huddled the world with its cold hands. Winter was a few months away, yet he could see the mist, forming slightly on the horizon, a harbinger of what would be, in the coming days. He hated the cold, and winter especially. It was not because of the discomfort, but because of the memory, they birthed with them. His parents had passed away on a winter night, and even though Damian had been about five or so years, he could still remember crying all by himself as the undertaker lowered their corpse into the white earth. Money had not saved them, and certainly not technology. Elixa would have brought them back to life, but the doctors had said something about their blood not being compatible with the mechanics of the system. He had not understood what they meant then and had not understood it now either. There have been too many speeches and little action. His parents

CHAPTER 58"I am not a bloody cat. The name is Catherine. Get it?""Okay, fine, I get it," Tom said slowly before dropping his hands as if dejected.Catherine felt like screaming at him or yanking those mockeries out of his eyes. Well, that would not help anyone, especially since she needed his help."I think the elevator would be better," she hissed before walking towards the door."Of course," Tom laughed. "But are we not supposed to plan or think things through? What if he is being held hostage or worse. What are we going to do?""Listen to me," Catherine turned her attention to him, "We should focus on looking for Damian. That should be our priority."I