I heard the faint sound of fluttering outside my window—delicate, almost like a whisper. I turned toward it and saw the familiar crystal butterfly hovering just beyond the glass. It was as breathtaking as ever. The morning light caught its wings in motion, refracting brilliant shards of color across my room like scattered stars.
But the beauty didn't last.
The ground trembled, sudden and sharp, followed by a deafening screech that cut through the air like broken glass. I staggered to the window, heart racing, and what I saw made my blood run cold. People were pouring into the streets, their screams rising in panic, some clutching children, others running without looking back.
My eyes shifted toward the prison on the horizon—and there it stood.
A massive humanoid figure, towering like a building, its height rivaling three stories. Its skin shimmered like quartz—faceted and pale, catching the sunlight in cruel, jagged angles. Two twisted horns jutted from its head, curling backward like the branches of a dead tree. And its eyes… they weren't monster eyes. They were human. Human, and somehow everywhere, as if they stared into every corner of the world at once.
Its screech came again. Not just loud—wrong. A sound that didn't belong in this world.
Sirens wailed from the base. Shouts echoed in the streets. Then I heard them—footsteps charging toward my room. The door slammed open.
It was Joeress.
"What are you still doing?!" he shouted, grabbing my wrist and yanking me toward the stairs.
We ran—barefoot, breathless—down the creaking steps and out into the chaos. Mom and Aunt Gaizell were waiting outside, panic plain on their faces. Without a word, we ran together, weaving through crowds, smoke, and falling ash until we reached the closest evacuation center.
Inside, the air was thick with fear. People huddled in corners, some sobbing, others whispering prayers into their hands. A few sat in stunned silence, as if their minds had already gone elsewhere. The lights flickered above us, and the floor was cold beneath our feet.
We found a quiet corner, if anything in that moment could be called quiet. We waited. Minutes bled into hours. Eventually, the chaos softened. The screaming stopped. The murmurs faded into the background.
Mom and Aunt Gaizell had fallen asleep, their arms around each other like lifelines. Joeress sat beside me, his legs crossed, a small notebook in his lap. His pen scratched steadily across the paper, a rhythm in the silence.
"Remember the first time we met?" he asked, without looking up.
"Not really," I said honestly.
"You must've thought I was weird. Calling you cute and all."
"I didn't really think about it," I replied.
He glanced up at me. His eyes were softer than usual, but there was something else too—some weight behind them.
"You really are like him," he said.
"Him?"
"My younger brother," he said quietly. "You look like him too."
I hesitated. "Can I ask what happened to him?"
Joeress didn't answer right away. He stared at the notebook for a moment, as if trying to find the right page in his memory.
"He was killed," he said finally, bowing his head slightly. "They treated him like he was nothing. Like he was less than human."
I didn't know what to say. "I'm… I'm sorry."
He didn't acknowledge the apology, but kept going, voice steady like someone reciting something they'd memorized too well.
"Our family didn't have much. We lived in the old house my grandma left us before she died. It was cramped, but we were happy. Just me, my mom, and my brother. Then a robber broke in one night. Took everything worth selling. After that, we had nothing."
He paused.
"My mom started… working," he said carefully, "selling herself to keep us fed. I started selling things on the street. My brother stayed home."
Joeress's voice cracked. He took a deep breath.
"One night, she brought home three men. I came back late, opened the door, and found the living room trashed. Something felt wrong. I called out, but no one answered."
He swallowed hard.
"I found her in the kitchen. She was on the floor. A bottle shoved into her eye sockets. Her wrists and ankles tied like a puppet tossed aside."
A lump formed in my throat.
"Then I heard my brother. Whimpering." His hands tightened around the notebook. "I ran to the bedroom. Kicked the door open."
Silence stretched between us.
"They were on him. Three grown men. I froze. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. I charged at them, but they were stronger. Drunk, but stronger. They pinned me down and made me watch."
He looked up at me, eyes glassy with unshed tears.
"One of them whispered, 'You're next.'"
I clenched my fists.
"I panicked. Thrashed. They were drunk enough to lose their grip. I ran for the door. But I looked back… and I saw one of them holding a rope, tugging it like reins. My brother's neck… his body…"
He couldn't finish. He didn't have to.
Joeress broke down, tears falling silently onto his notebook. His whole frame trembled, but he didn't make a sound.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, helpless. "I didn't mean to bring that back up…"
"No," he said, shaking his head and wiping his cheeks. "It's okay. I've never told anyone the whole thing before."
He looked down again.
"I was weak," he said. "I should've saved him."
I leaned closer, my voice as steady as I could make it. "You were doing your best in a moment you didn't ask for. That doesn't make you weak."
He looked at me—really looked—and something in his expression softened.
"Thanks," he said quietly, then rested his head on my shoulder.
The room fell into a thick silence. The only sound was the low buzz of the lights above us—steady, cold, artificial.
Then, without warning, a sudden explosion echoed in the distance. The walls quivered. The floor shuddered beneath us. The lights flickered violently, casting the room into momentary darkness before buzzing back to life in a dull, twitching glow.
Gasps echoed. Children began to cry. The silence shattered into a chorus of murmurs and anxious voices rising like smoke.
I turned to Joeress, expecting panic—but he was still. His expression unreadable. Calm, almost unnervingly so, like his mind had wandered somewhere far away. Maybe he had already lived through worse.
Slowly, the noise dulled again. The ground stopped shaking. People settled back into their corners like frightened birds returning to a nest.
My body was heavy. My limbs slack. Every breath felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. My eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open. The warmth of Joeress beside me, the way his notebook had stilled, the dim flickering of the light above us—it all blurred together.
I let my head fall gently onto his shoulder, then to the side of his head.
And sleep took me.