Chapter 5
May 12, 2029
Jace POV
"Well, my friend has agreed. We can start moving in their general direction," Elias says.
I exhale a long breath I didn't know I was holding.
Apparently, there's finally a place safe from mana storms. I'm tired of all the moving. We all are.
This friend of Elias'—someone he worked with to invent the mana guns and get the radio phones up and running—had figured out how to sync with mana frequencies in the air.
I didn't really get the science.
Something about manipulating mana drift fields to anchor frequency signals. Whatever.
But thanks to Elias, we've had the upper hand in negotiations with other factions. We have weapons. Communication. And control.
People tried to steal the tech. Those who tried to replicate it often met unfortunate ends—mana overloads, misfires, internal explosions. The lucky ones ended up scarred. The unlucky ones? Charred.
Elias and his friend—whoever they are—helped keep us from being completely at the mercy of this new world. Not that we were ever in charge. But without them, we would have been wiped out.
The mana guns are stable now. They only break down after a hundred consecutive shots. That's huge. Back then, the prototypes overheated after six.
Now, I don't have to use my ability unless I absolutely have to. And every time I don't, I count it as a win.
*
May 15
We move at dawn.
The convoy winds forward: old military trucks reinforced with scavenged armor, off-road vehicles with mana plates screwed onto the hoods, and our engineers walking alongside, keeping the formation tight. Children peek from the back of cargo beds, wide-eyed. Adults march with weapons strapped across their backs.
I ride at the front, standing beside the lead vehicle. The sand here is deep and loose, even before the storm hits.
"If we had a space manipulator," I mutter under my breath, "this would take five minutes."
Instead, we rely on Elias. When the path ahead twists into a newly formed canyon or becomes impassable jungle, he lifts the heavier trucks with his telekinesis, muscles taut, face grim, complaining the entire time. But he does it.
He's the closest thing I have to a friend in this world. He could've gone with his genius partner—the one who helped him design all of this—but stayed with me instead. Said he was looking for his sister.
We both know she might be dead.
But I would never say that out loud.
Instead, I make good on my promise. Every time we hear of a possible faction, a new survivor group, a name drop that could mean something—we check. We divert. We chase shadows. It's the least I can do.
He's saved our lives more times than I can count.
And in his own way, I think he knows I'm grateful.
That night, we camp in a hollow where the ground dips naturally. Earth ability awakeners shape a dome over us, thick enough to keep the mana storm out.
The storm comes at midnight.
The air changes first. Heavier. Buzzing. Like the pressure right before a lightning strike. Sparks dance between our fingers if we touch metal. Then the sound hits.
It's never just thunder.
It's creaking, groaning, whispering. It's screams. Static. An orchestra of nightmares. A symphony of wrongness.
Every mana storm sounds different. This one sounds like crying.
We hunker down for the night. No one sleeps.
Even the children stay quiet. That says everything.
The ground shakes a few times, but the dome holds. We ration food, listen to Elias swear at malfunctioning monitors, and pray the walls don't crack.
The storm lasts longer than most. A full day. By the time it passes, we're already on edge.
Elias finally gives the all-clear. The earth awakeners collapse the dome. We step out.
And I swear.
Fuck.
We were on the outskirts of the storm—just barely.
But it still shifted the landscape.
What used to be rocky hills and clay paths is now desert. Endless. Blinding.
Sand, stretching to the horizon.
Heat beating down from a bruised sky.
I hate mana storms.
We don't know how long water will be hard to find now. And worse? This terrain is perfect for them.
Sandworms.
Monstrous mana beasts that swim through dunes like water. You don't hear them coming. You just die.
Everyone starts setting up temporary shade. Engineers start building quick shelters. I hear complaints. Some people want to turn back.
But there's nothing to go back to.
I clench my jaw, watching the horizon.
Somewhere out there, Elias's genius friend is waiting. Maybe this place really is stable. Maybe it won't all fall apart again.
And maybe, just maybe, I'll finally stop feeling like something's missing every time I wake up.
I don't even know what I'm waiting for.
But I know the shape of the hole it left behind.