I Keep Waking Up Anyway

Yawwwn!

Kael stretched and yawned outside the old shelter, eyes barely open. Sleep had never fully come, and what little rest he got still left his bones cold.

He looked out to the horizon, expecting the sun.

But there was no sun.

"Where the hell is the sunrise?" he muttered, hugging his arms around himself.

Even with the clothes Finn had given him, the cold still bit through like teeth.

A voice came from behind him. "You're up earlier than usual."

He turned. Riven was stepping out from the hatch, a worn backpack slung over her shoulder.

"Yeah… couldn't sleep," Kael said, watching her adjust her strap.

Riven nodded. "That's good. We've got a lot to do today."

She reached into her coat and pulled out a folded map.

Kael glanced over his shoulder. "Where are the others?"

"They'll come. Still getting ready," she said, her voice quiet.

Kael turned back to her. "You still don't trust me, do you?"

She paused.

"…No," she admitted. "Not completely."

Kael didn't blame her. Not really.

Riven unfolded the map on a crate between them. "Honestly, I don't even believe the part where you said you died and came from another world."

"But…" she sighed, rolling the map back up.

"We don't really have a choice, do we?"

Her eyes stared out over the ruins beyond the camp.

"Ever since the Apocalypse hit, half the global population's been wiped out. Even Awakened ones are rare now."

"Wait," Kael interrupted. "You said apocalypse? When did that happen?"

She gave him a slightly annoyed look but answered anyway. "You mean, how long since the descent?"

She tapped her fingers together, counting.

"Thirty years. It's been thirty years since the Gates opened and the world went to hell."

She clenched her jaw. "Because of those damn Gates, we're all scraping the bottom now."

"What are the Gates, anyway?" Kael asked.

Riven looked at him like he had three heads. "Seriously. Where the hell are you from?"

"I told you," he raised both hands, "another world."

Before she could press further, Finn and Silas emerged from the hatch.

"We'll talk later," Riven muttered. She pointed to the distant skyline, where half-broken walls loomed on the horizon.

"We're heading to Sector 9."

The wind howled as they crossed into the invisible boundary of Sector 9.

Dust spun in the air like ash. The sky above was a faded gray, like an old photograph left out in the sun.

These ruins weren't like Sector 7's—they collapsed and decayed. Here, the structures still stood.

Twisted, scorched, warped—but upright. As if the fire that devoured the world had stopped short of finishing the job.

Kael adjusted the rusted machete Riven had handed him earlier. It was dull, slightly bent, and awkward to hold—but it was better than bare fists.

"This is it," Riven said. Her usual edge was gone. "The main gate."

She pointed to a massive steel wall, partly covered in thick vines and debris.

A gate stood at its center—tall, cracked down the middle, but still intact. Strange spiraling glyphs were carved into its surface, pulsing faintly with light.

"No one's ever made it past that," she added.

Kael stepped closer. His gaze fixed on the glyphs.

They felt… familiar.

Riven ran her fingers along one of the carvings, tracing the curves.

"We've lost people here. Something beyond this gate messes with your mind. It doesn't kill you… not right away. But it changes you."

Silas grunted from behind.

"You sure about bringing him?" He nodded at Kael. "Kid's gonna get brain-fried in five minutes."

"Maybe," Riven said.

"Or maybe his trick works on more than just people."

Kael stepped up to the gate. The glyphs were humming louder in his mind now.

"Don't come closer," he said.

"What?" Riven blinked.

"I said, stay back."

He placed his hand on the gate.

Pain slammed into him like lightning.

His skull felt like it had been cracked open and stitched back with fire. The glyphs glowed and twisted in the air, like puzzle pieces trying to fit together.

And then… the wall responded.

"He will return."

"Not in flesh. But in voice."

"The Gatekeeper awakens."

The metal trembled. Dust spilled from above.

Riven lunged forward. "What the hell did you just do?!"

Kael didn't respond.

Memories flooded in. A burning tower. A man in crimson chains. Kael—before he was Kael—standing in another body, another time.

A scholar-warrior from the Fallen Verse, skilled in forbidden languages that can silence gods.

A blade forged from his own soul. A vow made in blood and starlight. And then… betrayal.

He staggered back from the gate, gasping.

"Kael!" Finn caught him by the arm.

"I'm fine," Kael lied, rubbing his forehead.

Riven knelt next to him, eyes sharp. "Start talking."

Kael stared at the gate, which now creaked slightly—just enough to suggest it had heard him.

"There's something behind that gate," he said. "Something sealed away. And I've… spoken its language before."

"You remember another life?" Riven asked.

Kael scoffed. "Not clearly. But enough."

Riven didn't press. But her expression shifted—from suspicion to caution.

She saw it now. Whatever Kael was… he wasn't normal. And maybe not entirely human anymore.

They made camp behind the blackened shell of an old diner. The gate stood silent in the distance, radiating an uneasy hum.

Finn sat nearby, chewing on jerky. "Think it'll open?"

Kael was beside him, slowly sharpening the machete. "Maybe. But it's not about strength."

"What then?"

Kael looked at the gate. "It's testing us."

Finn blinked. "That's worse."

Kael chuckled. "Yeah. It is."

Silas kept a silent watch. He hadn't said much since the glyphs lit up.

Riven returned with a cloth bundle and tossed it into Kael's lap.

Inside: reinforced gloves, an alloy-mesh shirt, and a sheath for the machete.

"Scavenged gear?" he asked.

"Old Hunter stockpile," she said. "You looked like a trash bag."

Kael nodded, pulling on the gloves. "Thanks."

Riven sat across from him. "Tell me something."

"Shoot."

"That language—the one on the gate. You spoke it fluently. Did you learn it, or…?"

Kael paused. "I don't know. Somehow… I know it. But I don't remember ever learning it."

"Really?" she raised a brow.

"Yeah," he said simply.

She shook her head. "This is getting way too weird."

That scared her. Not that Kael was dangerous. But the world still held secrets they couldn't even name.

"If the names of the old empires are gone," Kael said quietly, "then someone isn't just hiding history. They're erasing it."

"Or guarding it," Riven murmured.

They sat in silence. Wind brushed the ruins, soft as whispers.

Then she asked, "Kael… why do you keep going?"

He glanced at her.

"I mean it. You've died, you say. You remember… something. So why keep fighting? Why keep waking up?"

Kael thought for a long time.

The easy answer: revenge.

The cynical one: habit.

But the truth?

"I keep going," he said, "because a long time ago, I made a promise. To someone I don't even remember. But I feel it. In my bones. Every time I wake up."

He looked at the sky, still sunless.

"I think… I was supposed to save something. Or someone."

Riven didn't laugh. Didn't question him.

She just nodded.

"Good answer."

That night, Kael didn't sleep.

He knelt near the gate, whispering words under his breath—not to open it, but to reshape the script. To mold it. Control it.

Letters floated in his mind like clay.

Kael exhaled softly.

"I'm coming back," he whispered. "And this time… I won't screw it up."