I awoke to the jarring cold splash of water—a torrent that struck my skin like a thousand tiny needles, each droplet a sharp shock that shattered the last remnants of sleep. My mind, still wrapped in the warmth of dreams, fought against the sudden, biting chill of consciousness. It was as if I'd been yanked from a peaceful slumber and thrown into a world of ice and steel, the comfort of sleep evaporating in an instant, leaving me wide-eyed and disoriented, caught between two worlds.
I shot upright from my cot, heart pounding as the icy sensation raced down my skin, clawing at my senses. I could feel my breath catch in the cold air, and my pulse quickened, disoriented and angry.
"Time to get to work, new recruit," Finn's voice came, startlingly calm as he stood over me, an empty tin bucket still dripping in his hand, completely unbothered by the scene he'd just caused.
I groaned, wiping the wetness from my face with the sleeve of my shirt. "You could've just shaken me awake like a normal person," I muttered, trying to shake the shock from my body, my teeth already beginning to chatter.
Cass, lounging nearby with that infuriating smirk of his, stretched his arms lazily behind his head, as if he'd been lounging in comfort the whole time. "Where's the fun in that? I, for one, enjoyed the show." His eyes sparkled with mischief, clearly finding amusement in my discomfort.
Elric, ever the voice of reason, let out a weary sigh from where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed in a posture of quiet disapproval. "Finn, was that really necessary?" he asked, his voice a gentle reproach, but I could tell he wasn't truly angry—just tired.
Finn didn't even glance at him as he tossed the bucket aside, its clang against the stone floor sharp and final. "Up," he commanded, his tone brokering no argument. "You don't get to sleep in while the rest of us are working."
Reluctantly, I swung my legs over the side of the cot, the old wooden frame groaning beneath me in protest. I exhaled sharply, rubbing my chilled arms, and cursed the morning's icy bite. The rough fabric of my shirt scratched at my skin as I shivered involuntarily. "And what exactly is so urgent that it requires attempted drowning?" I asked, trying to keep my annoyance in check.
Finn crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Scouting, supply runs, and training. Pick your poison."
Elric, his voice softer, added, "We need to replenish food stocks, secure new intel, and reinforce the perimeter. We can't afford any weak links."
Cass stretched languidly, as though this was the most relaxed he'd been in days, and his smirk never wavered. "Or, if you'd rather, you can help me with morale duty," he suggested, his grin stretching wider.
I raised an eyebrow, my suspicion piqued. "Which is?"
Cass's grin deepened. "Making sure spirits stay high. Playing cards, telling stories, the occasional back rub if you ask nicely." His tone was teasing, but there was something else in his voice—an edge of sincerity beneath the humor.
Finn sighed, his expression one of exasperation as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Ignore him," he muttered, sounding just short of frustrated. "We've got a job for you, Lyra. Since you're new, we'll start simple—helping with rations. After that, you'll shadow us on a scouting run."
The mention of a scouting run twisted my stomach into knots. Outside the safety of the hideout, the city belonged to the regime. Every corner could be a trap, every alley a place where they might drag me away, just as they'd done with Aldrick. The memory of his eyes—wide, unblinking, and filled with a strange acceptance in those final moments—still churned in my gut like bitter bile.
But I couldn't afford to hesitate. Not now. Not when every action I took could mean the difference between life and death. I met Finn's stare and nodded. "Fine. Where do I start?"
Finn's lips curled into something resembling approval. "Follow me," he said, his voice firm but not unkind.
I grabbed my cloak, the fabric rough against my skin, and pulled it on, the weight of it settling uneasily around my shoulders. The cold air outside the cot hit me immediately, and I shivered again. One thing I could say for certain—mornings here were the worst. The bleakness of the place seemed to seep into my bones, making every moment feel heavy, cold, and unforgiving.
We passed through the dimly lit hallways of the hideout, the faint smell of mildew clinging to the stone walls, a constant reminder of how long this place had been abandoned before we found it.
Elric's voice floated softly behind us. "The place had been abandoned long before we found it," he said, almost as if he were speaking to himself. "But we've made it our own, filling it with the remnants of a thousand forgotten lives—crates of canned goods, tattered books, and makeshift furniture. It's not much, but it's ours. It's as close to home as I've had in a long time."
His words felt like a quiet lament, a truth too heavy for him to say outright. The bitterness of loss seeped into his tone, but there was a flicker of something else—a spark of hope, however faint.
Finn led me to the common room, where the rations were stored. The air in this room felt thick, heavy with the scent of dried food and stale air. Shelves lined the walls, stacked high with crates and bags of preserved food, a silent testament to our struggle to survive. The shelves creaked under their weight, as though even the building itself knew how precarious our existence was.
"Start with the dried beans," Finn said, his voice steady, but there was an urgency in his movements as he pulled a crate from the shelf and set it down on the table with a dull thud. "We're rationing everything. We can't afford to run low on supplies."
I nodded, the familiar task of sorting through bags and measuring portions providing a small comfort in this cold, sterile space. My fingers moved automatically as I measured out the portions, trying to focus on the rhythm of the work rather than the gnawing unease twisting in my stomach. Each small bag I sealed felt like another weight added to the burden I was carrying, each action another step further into this war we were fighting, not just against the regime, but
against a world that had long forgotten peace.
For a while, I worked in silence, letting the steady, monotonous task ease my racing thoughts. Finn didn't speak much, his presence a quiet reassurance, and I appreciated that—sometimes, it was easier to exist in the quiet, where my thoughts could swirl around without being interrupted.
When the last of the rations were packed and stacked neatly in crates, Finn's voice broke through the silence, blunt as always. "Time to head out," he said, his tone giving me no room for hesitation.
I felt a knot of apprehension settle in my chest as I stood up and followed him toward the door. The calm before the storm was always the worst part.