Live together?

The brutal sun beat down on Vraal, a low-tier city perpetually shrouded in its own dust and despair. Its cramped, crooked streets were a constant, aimless shuffle of the homeless, their gaunt figures a stark reflection of the city's decay. Vraal lay crummy and isolated, nestled deep within a sprawling expanse of ancient forests and dwarfed by towering, indifferent mountains. The nearest city was a full day's arduous journey away, yet distance offered no escape from the harsh reality of the world.

Vraal was a city under siege from within, its fractured peace violently enforced by a network of ruthless gangs. They were the true rulers of the streets, an unofficial brutal force maintaining order within their territory. Their " protection" came at a steep price: a monthly tax levied upon the populace, extorted with chilling regularity. The people of Vraal had no choice but to comply. Failure to pay was met by swift, brutal consequences-savage beatings, homes reduced to rubble, what little possession they had forcibly seized, and for some, the ultimate price of death. Yet no one dared to utter the word of protest. This was simply how the world worked now, a grim reality Vraal had long embraced.

To the Northwest, where the scarred city of Vraal clawed at the edges of the wild, the very air seemed to weep. Here the last remnants of what we're once parks dissolved into a deeper, brooding heart of the forest. This was a realm of perpetual twilight, choked by thick, sympathetic fogs that clung to every surface, muffling sound and swallowing light. The sun, a distant memory, rarely pierced this murk, its rays struggling to tear through the damp, heavy air. Litters of refuse choked apartment doorways, and pathways crumbled underfoot, each hole on the ground a testament to the area's neglect.

In a cramped apartment on the seventh floor of one such decaying building, two teenagers teetering on the cusp of adulthood, found their meager refuge. Despite the perpetual gloom outside, the morning's arrival was announced by a thin, persistent shaft of sun light that bravely sliced through the grimy, old window, momentarily brightening the single room.

The apartment bore the scars of its long, hard life. The ceiling bowed precariously, hinted at by a dangling, unstable lamp. Once white, the walls were now a canvas of grimy footprints and chipped concrete, dotted with small, ominous holes-a testament to long-abandoned attempts at decoration. A battered closet dominated one wall, its middle section awkwardly housing a small, outdated small television. A lone chair and desk huddled in a corner, while two narrow beds, mirroring each other were pushed against opposite walls, framing the solitary window between them.

On one of these smaller beds, a curly-haired boy, stirred. His eyes, dark pools in the dim-light, fluttered open not to the sound of an alarm, but to the subtle warm caress of the sun's persistent, if weak, rays touching his skin. This way Valen Rune, a simple ordinary seventeen-year-old, entering his final year of school.

But as consciousness fully returned, his thoughts didn't drift to classes or his friends. İnstead, they swirled, as they often did, to a specific, haunting memory from his past. İt was a recurrent nightmare that had plagued him since a month after his fifteenth birthday, a grim anniversary that marked his isolation and the loss of his parents.

"I really didn't get to know the reason behind that dream," he mused, his brow furrowing." And who was that man?"

The nightmare surged through his mind; the park leading to the forest, a place just like the one beyin Vraal's western edge. The chilling, whispered call of his name, Valen, Vallen," then, the shadowy figure, emerging from the deepest gloom. The sudden, brutal grip, his vision blurring as he was choked into unconsciousness. And then when the darkness claimed him, that final, horrifying whisper, echoing even now in his waking mind." This is the end of the Rune family."

Valen clenched his jaw, the phantom pressure of hands around his throat still vivid. He forced himself to take a slow, ragged breath, pushing the cold dread back down, deeper into the dark corner of his memory. This was just another morning, another sunrise in Vraal. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the thin mattress groaning under his weight.

But the questions still clawed at him;" How did he know my name? And more importantly what did he do to me?" That night, something inside him shifted, like something was released, and yet he couldn't access it. He had a feeling, it wasn't a simple dream at all, it held a profound, unsettling significance — a secret he has yet to unravel, a purpose be had yet to discover. The frustration of it, gnawed at him.

He scanned the room. The other bed was empty, but a folded letter lay neatly on the pillow. He crossed the worn floor, picking it up and read it:

" Sorry, for not informing you. I'm not home this week; I'm asked for additional work at the site. I've placed some money for you and don't worry, I'll be back soon. By the way, the breakfast is ready, eat something before school. Sen!"

A soft smile, rare in Vraal, curled Valen's lips. Sen, his brother in all, but blood. Always shouldering the burdens,always ensuring Valen could focus on his studies, shielding him always from the relentless grind of their existence. Sen was the sole reason for his smiles, in this cruel world. The only one who believed in him, truly, since the day they met.

Lost in the warmth of that thought, Valen's mind spiraled to their first encounter.

He was seven then, a bewildered orphan roaming the harsh, unforgiving streets of Vraal, his stomach a hollow ache. Only a few months had passed, since their arrival in this sprawling, desolate city, and the crushing weight of having nowhere to go, no one embrace, was a constant companion.

His gaze snagged on the bakery window, the warm glow pulling him closer. Fresh loaves, hot from the oven, lay in tempting rows and a trickle of saliva escaped past his lips and onto his collar. Driven by desperation, he pushed open the door, the scent of baked bread intoxicating." Please, some bread?" he whispered, his voice small. But in this callous world, humanity was a forgotten luxury.

"No money, no bread, little kid," the shopkeeper bellowed, his face contorted in anger. " I know your kind, you filthy sons of bitches who force you to do beggary!"

Valen froze. The insult, aimed at his dead mother, struck a raw nerve. He couldn't take it.

A surge of blind fury propelled him forward. He snatched a loaf from the service board and bolted, the shopkeeper's outraged roar echoing behind him.

" This is only for what you said to my mother!" he thought fiercely, not daring to look back, fueled by adrenalin. He didn't account for the baker's adult stride. Within minutes, a hand grabbed his collar, ya king him back then sent him sprawling hard onto the ground.

" Now you will learn not to steal anymore!" The baker snarled, lifting a hand to strike.

But the blow never landed.

A new voice, firm and clear, cut through the tension." Take your hand off him!"

A red-haired boy, significantly taller than Valen, yanked the baker's arm, then shoved him back with surprising force. The baker stumbled, truly astonished by the might of this apparent pre-teen. " Are you with him, boy? Did you plan this together?" he demanded, readying himself for another confrontation.

The red-haired boy, Sen, glanced down, his expression softening as he noticed the loaf clutched tightly in Valen's hand, held like a hidden treasure. He understood instantly. Reaching into his pocket, Sen pulled out three silver coins and flung them at the baker's face.

" Here, take it and leave him alone," he commanded, his voice strong and unwavering.

The baker stunned, by the unexpected silver, eyes the boy's new brand cloths. This wasn't some street urchin's accomplice." It's too much for just a bread—" he began but Sen cut him off, an infuriated edge on his voice." Just take it and go away!"

Gladly pocketing the unexpected profit, the baker retreated.

Sen's gaze shifted to Valen again, his initial intensity softening." I know, you must be hungry but stealing isn't right," he said, a gentle smile gracing his lips. Though only a few years older, he spoke with the wisdom od an adult. " Do you have anywhere to go?"

Valen shook his head, unable to speak. The dark circles under his eyes, his starved expression, the shabby cloths clinging to his thin frame-Sen saw it all.

Valen devoured the bread, wolfing it down without pause. At the sight, Sen merely smiled.

" I like you, if you have no where to go, then you can live with me."

Valen smiled, a true genuine smile at the memory. Even though, the inheritance from Sen's parents, tragically lost in a gang scuffle, just like Valen's own, had lasted them for a long time, eventually dwindled. Sen had been forced to leave his education early and take on work, always acting as Valen's unwavering pillar of support. Valen longed to repay him, but Sen made him promise that until he was truly mature, he would focus on his studies and simply live his life

" Report to the base, at 6:30 PM. A vital pronouncement is scheduled." a message suddenly popped up on his phone screen, interrupting his thoughts. A message from familiar person and yet not saved.

Valen is about to set foot in a world, where there is no coming back!