we die together

Cough, cough...

Blood stained my hand. So, my time had come.

A week had passed since that conversation on the rooftop. So much had happened.

The next day, the city had awakened. People went out, worked, and returned home. Parents walked their children to school.

I could have believed that yesterday's events were just my imagination—if not for the damage left by the explosions, the scattered debris. No one had bothered to remove the rubble. Only the bodies of the traitors had been incinerated, reduced to dust. The strangest thing was that the Enforcers hadn't investigated further, as if their objective had already been met the moment they announced the recruitment.

People tried to act normal, but their anxious eyes, forced smiles, and distant conversations betrayed their unease. The parents had finally grasped the situation, yet no further disturbances occurred. Maybe only the children behaved normally? Could they sense the fear of the adults? I had no idea. But how many of them would be orphans in a few days? Those who had yet to reach the age when symptoms appeared could never awaken. Would they be discarded like trash? Did the Calamities have plans for them?

My thoughts wandered endlessly. As I walked through the city, the symphony of cars on the road seemed to promise that tomorrow would be just another day. But I knew the truth—nothing would ever be the same again. Maybe we all knew it, yet no one dared to say it out loud. Each person would have to reflect on their own life. It was said that those who truly understood who they were had a better chance of surviving. Unfortunately, while no study could prove it, none could disprove it either.

Brenda still hadn't woken up. The symptoms had officially begun to manifest. What could possibly accelerate her awakening? Victor had been by her side the entire time.

Then, there was something strange. Everywhere Iris went, people greeted her. She had become a sort of mascot for the city. Every time someone saw her, they gave her gifts. Her performance must have truly left a mark on them.

Time passed like this, like the calm before the rising tide.

On the third day, the townspeople began showing signs of ether oversaturation. That's when the Enforcers officially took action. They requisitioned police officers who hadn't yet shown severe symptoms and sent them door to door, transporting the infected to the town's main square, which had been cleared of rubble the day before.

When I visited Brenda, I saw from Victor's window the lifeless bodies scattered across the square. There was no blood, no wounds. They looked as if they were simply asleep. They were laid directly on the ground, without care, without respect. If that person's words were to be believed, such scenes were common in the early years after the ether arrived, long before the serum was invented.

How many of them would manage to awaken? And how many would be gone forever?

Parents who had children left them in the care of an Enforcer. She was a beautiful woman, in her thirties, with a constant smile on her lips. I didn't know what stories she told them, but none of the children seemed agitated despite their parents' absence. She took them to the city's grand theater hall, providing them with food and everything they needed.

Her actions felt so unnatural to me that they only made me feel sick. After a while, I stopped wandering the city and spent more time with Iris and Lucy.

On the fourth day, an event shattered the illusion of tranquility we had been desperately trying to maintain.

Lucy died.

We secretly moved her body to the basement of Victor's building, right next to Brenda. We didn't want her to be thrown among the countless corpses left to rot across the city.

— Do you think she'll make it? Iris asked me.

— Yes. She's strong.

It was rare to see Iris worried. She, who was always so cheerful, so confident… I pulled her into my arms, trying to reassure her.

— We'll all make it. We promised, I whispered.

The next day, we found Victor in his office, lifeless. A cigarette still burned in his left hand, a glass of whiskey in his right. Even in death, that old miser never failed to surprise me.

On the sixth day, under a moonless night, only the stars—so distant, so small to our eyes—illuminated the city.

There was no more electricity. No one left to maintain the infrastructure. No more sound. Nature had reclaimed its place. Only its whispers echoed through the small town of Astoria, where thirty thousand souls were undergoing their awakening.

Iris and I were likely the only humans still conscious. The pounding headaches, the blood dripping from our noses, our pale faces… We didn't have much time left. So, we decided to take one last walk through what remained of Astoria.

No more life. The city had lost its colors.

After walking for a while, we stopped in a park, sitting side by side on an old bench by a lake that reflected the sky.

"Will this city ever be reborn?"

I took my time to think, but the answer was obvious. I tried to turn my head toward her, a sharp pain locking my muscles in place, yet I forced myself to respond:

"Yes. One day, we'll come back and build a castle here. Not just a shack we call home."

She nodded, offering me her most beautiful smile.

Hours passed. We no longer had the strength to return to the basement. We remained there, unmoving, gazing at the starry sky, until dawn arrived.

" Iris, let's die together."

"Yes. I'll see you in a bit."

Those were the last words I heard before I died.