“I didn’t do it! It wasn’t me!” They grabbed his arms, one guard on each side, and dragged him away from the sidewalk, his heels digging into the ground. “I didn’t do it! I’m not one of them!” the man yelled again. The guards covered his mouth with a rag, and he went limp. They threw him into the back of the transport. It was a small, streamlined vehicle with no wheels. I found myself averting my gaze when it raised off of the ground and flew up into the sky. 

Arrests like this had become common. More and more people had been whisked away right before my eyes on the same path every morning and afternoon. I found it easier to ignore as weeks passed. 

The mind-numbing routine I had acquired was not of my own accord. Traversing through the heart of the city was far from my ideal day out. The buildings we had inhabited must have been ornate and beautiful in their prime but were now cracked and ruined, all plant life overcome by technology. The towering pillared halls were used for manufacturing and offices. Street lamps illuminated them in a crisp, white light, accentuating cracks and the maltreatment of carved stone in the dim morning. 

However, I still found beauty in the clean and organized mannerisms of my people. The efficiency of our way of life gave me comfort and there was a certain dependability I found in the unwavering cycle of my current existence. 

I closed my eyes, letting my feet tread the familiar path, and paid attention to the feeling of the cool air on my face and the hum of the lights. Even without my vision, I could almost see the people and the objects around me,  just without the distractions of colors. 

I opened my eyes again when I felt that my morning commute was coming to a close. After typing my code into the keypad of my office building, a little light shined on my jacket and scanned my ID, which had been embedded in my clothes for “security reasons”. The door slid open. I took the lift to the sixth floor, the keypad alerted me when I reached my destination. 

There were a few more empty chairs in the broadcasting system department, a department I had worked closely with my whole career. A shiver rolled down my spine and it felt like something gripped my throat when I recalled the man getting dragged away this morning. 

I scanned the room carefully, eagerly searching the people that walked to and fro from offices and desks. The hushed sound of business chatter blended together and I could not pick out any singular voices. I then spotted the long length of mousy brown hair and the fist in my throat unclenched. She was okay. I approached her as calmly as I possibly could.

 “Everleigh,” I called out. She turned towards me. 

“Marcellus?”

“Yes, who else?” I smiled. 

“Oh, I just wasn't expecting you to be in today, with your new house and all.”

I just shrugged, “Yeah, I know it needs repairs, but I couldn’t risk not coming, you know how Mr. Ives gets with me.”

“Where did you stay then?”  

“Oh, just where I usually do.” 

She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment before reopening them. “Marc, you can’t do that. You need a proper roof over your head,” she whispered and looked at me directly with her green eyes.

  Eager to escape the conversation now, I hurriedly said, “Well, I must get working now, I’ve got tons to do.” Before I could turn away, she caught my arm. 

“Promise me you won’t stay in that tent-of-a-house tonight?” I couldn’t meet her eye. “Marc.” She said sternly. 

“Fine, I won’t.”

“Thank you.” She said, and let go of my arm. 

Before I could be seated in my own space, a light around my ID lit up. I sighed and placed my briefcase on my transparent desk before hurriedly walking back to the lift and typing in the keycode for floor fifteen. I was left there alone to contemplate what my superior had in store for me. 

I hesitated at his door for a moment and then knocked. 

“Enter,” responded a gruff voice. 

The man that greeted me sat behind a large black desk. It was very archaic and I felt that he kept it only for the intimidation factor. I deemed it unnecessary, however, as his familiar, penetrating dark eyes alone could cut right through me. 

“Marcellus,” he sneered.

“Mr. Ives,” I responded, trying to conceal my anxiety with an unemotional coolness. With no regard for small talk, he started straight away. 

“Mr. Abernathy, as you know, has been apprehended by the authorities.”

I remained silent, but the shock resonated throughout my body. Mr. Abernathy? Really? I certainly did not know of this most recent occurrence. What had he done to deserve this mistreatment? I saw the man in my mind’s eye. He was long-limbed, steadfast and efficient in his work, and a companion to Mr. Ives. Well... as close to a companion as someone could be to the cold and calculated man that sat before me. My superior continued with little regard for a response, 

“It has been a great loss to the company and he has left a lofty position to be filled. I am sure you are aware that he had overseen all matters in the Communications Department and I had worked with him for more years than you have been alive.” He paused for a moment and seemed to be undecided on his next words. It was an uncommon occurrence that set a knot in my stomach. 

 ”I regret having to do this, but given your experience, I must promote you to head of the International Communication Systems department.” 

I gave him a curt nod immediately, “Thank you, sir.” My exterior reactions were mechanical and precise in his presence, though I had not always felt composed. 

 A promotion?! I tried not to let an expression of shock reach my face. Why would he want me? There were plenty of other workers with more years at the company, I definitely did not have enough time here to warrant a commanding job like Mr. Abernathy’s.

“Now,” he started, squinting his eyes, “I’ll be watching you closely, keeping an eye out for your foolish mistakes and carelessness, which are practically guaranteed.” 

I huffed, loosening my rigid stance, “I will try my very best, sir, to meet your standards.” 

He leaned forward in his seat and placed his forearms on the desk. “I know where you came from and I know what you are capable of, now run along.” 

“Where I came from?” I scoffed. You’d have to be blind to miss the resemblance between me and the other man in the room. We both displayed the same honey skin and raven hair, though his was flecked with age. I returned to my calm, clear tone, “I should hope you’d know the origins of your own kin, even if he is one you seem so eager to forget,” I then turned and hurriedly left his office, not wanting to hear any more of what he had to say or see the expression on his face. 

The confrontation irked me to the core. I’d never stood up to my father like that before. Drawing in one ragged breath after another, I leaned against the elevator wall, hoping that my dispute hadn’t lost me my new promotion. I never wanted a position like this, but if I didn’t live up to Mr. Ives’ expectations, I’d be removed from the company entirely and would be disgraced in society. I thought of the home I had just obtained and my longing to see it again grew as the sterile elevator lights seemed to become more heartless than the last time I had occupied the space. I could easily be removed from my home if I was jobless and would be forced to permanently dwell in the ramshackle structure I stayed in last night. 

The keypad dinged and I started from my thoughts. The doors ominously slid open and hurrying back out to my office space, I sat in the chair and placed my elbows on the transparent desk, gripping the roots of my short hair. 

What have I done? “Surely he can’t be too angry,” I pondered until a repressed memory was pulled from my childhood. My father loomed above me. Staring down, his gaze cut me like a knife. How disappointing I was to him at that moment, along with many more like it, but I could never forget when he yelled. The reason this memory stuck more so than others was that he seemed to be yelling at someone else. “Liya!” He bellowed, “Why did you do this to me!”

I could never underestimate the power of my father’s anger. 

Sighing, I released my hair and leaned back. I moved on from my sorry train of thought by picking up some documents that were placed in front of me by the head secretary, a quiet woman with angular features and a crooked nose. I thanked her and began mindlessly flipping through the papers, finding records of business transactions we had made in the past month. I had always thought that my father’s way of storing data was inept. He insisted on all important documents being printed on paper. Maybe for security? I didn’t know. 

I paid close attention to where the broadcasting technology was being sent, and if I’d recognized any of the cities that needed extra help with connections. We’d always sent some technology to the middle of the South Sea as well to test its range, though I’d wondered why the equipment had never returned. However, my inquiries had been interrupted. 

The head secretary returned and I acknowledged her, “Hello again Mrs. Ackley.” 

“Mr. Ives, your new office is already prepared. You’ll find it at the end of the hall.” 

“Thank you,” I responded, even though I was well acquainted with every office and window on this floor. It seems like Mr. Ives kept his word despite my outburst. 

After a long day of moving files and arranging the room, I found that the sun was setting and decided to head off. My encounter with Everleigh played in my head from earlier. “Promise?” She had said, and I did promise her to go home, but I had a keenness to go back anyway. 

I met no one on my descent to the ground floor and on my journey out of the lobby; into the heart of the city. The sky was no less dim than when I set out in the morning, but there was a nice, orange hu3e`4e5rte from the setting sun that made the walk more bearable. 

As I came nearer to the outskirts of the city, more plant life had crept its way into the architecture. Moss grew in cracks of cement and wildflowers lined the seams in between the road and the walkway. Water could flow more freely in this area, it fell down gutters and trickled down man-made slopes, regardless of how often it rained. The people in this part were not as condensed as in the center of the city, though most of the buildings there were occupational.

 My walk was long, but the orange tint had hardly faded from the sky before I turned the last corner onto a path made of flat, smooth stones, shaded from the large-leafed trees that stretched towards the clouds. 

Eagerly awaiting the sight of my destination, I reacquainted myself with the old structure in my mind. Parts of the roof were caved in. In the spring, vines snaked up the shingles and entered through the smashed windows. The house was tucked away in a little grove, where the willows shadowed the unkept lawn and where the wildflowers bloomed in the tall grass and by the gurgling stream. The wind whispered while it waved the trees and the sunshine showed in small segments along the meadow floor. 

My pace quickened when I saw the outskirts of the grove, brown siding from the ruined house peeking through the trees. Approaching the porch, I ran my hands along the greenery on either side of the path and then over the finely detailed porch columns. I had studied the inscriptions that covered them many times before, but had never come to understand them, as they were from a people long gone.

“I’m home,” I murmured. There was never a place that suited me as this one did. Even though it had been worn by time, it was a beautiful place to behold, quite the spectacle of archaic architecture. 

The house was dark inside, until I lit a match, illuminating candelabras on tables and secured to walls. I lit them one by one, filling the passages with a happy glow that uncovered swirls and figures etched into the wood detailing. The hallways split off into many rooms, like webbing. On the left was a nicely sized drawing room with a piano that was somehow still intact, but in need of a good tuning. On the right were stairs with a wooden banister. Further down the hall was the dining room and a kitchen which contained a great stone furnace that had several stones knocked loose. 

I retired to the drawing-room and grabbed one of the old books off the shelves of a bookcase built into the wall. Seating myself in a green cushioned chair, I flipped through it, trying to make sense of the odd letters that were delicately sprawled across the pages.

It was in this house that I could truly escape from the city and let my mind unwind and fantasize about a forgotten culture. 

I hadn’t realized I’d been dozing off until a cold breeze swept through the windows and extinguished the candles. Alright, I whispered, I better be off to bed, and then ascended the stairs to my bedroom. 

Because most of the windows were without glass, I felt the crisp morning air on my face when I awoke. 

My commute was uneventful until my company’s apartment was in view. I heard the subtle hum of a transport nearby. It got louder and louder while I glanced around at the surrounding people, of which there were few. My eyes darted from one person to the next, but the transport was not landing by any of them. It wasn’t before a shadow was cast over me by the looming vehicle that my situation started to sink in. 

“No, it can’t be! I haven’t done anything!” I thought, “Maybe if I don’t look at it it won’t come for me.” My interior exclamations reminded me of the others that had been taken, I was just like them. My heart pounded heavily in my ears and my mind raced through the past weeks. “What if I had done something?” I didn’t have to think much longer before the white vehicle landed in front of me and masked guards emerged. I kept my lips sealed, determined to not make a scene. 

“You’re under arrest,” said a voice, garbled by its mask. Bowing my head, I refrained from asking why, knowing that it was futile. They seized my arms and practically dragged me to the transport. I knew what was coming before they did it. A rag was brought up to my mouth and nose, cutting off all my air and filling my nose with a strange scent. I’d seen it so many times before, but I would never have thought of the sheer panic that would boil up inside or the feeling of a complete inability to do anything. 

My vision grew dark around the edges and I lost feeling in my limbs before I was lifted into the dark cabin. 

~

Finally regaining consciousness, I found myself laying on my back. Bright white light penetrated through my closed eyelids, making me unwilling to open them until I gained enough feeling in my arms and legs to understand the material I had been lain on. It was … grass. Not a cold, hard, prison floor, but plush, soft grass. I rubbed my hands around in it to gain a little more awareness and then pushed myself up to a sitting position before opening my eyes.

The light flooded my vision and stung my eyes. I winced and quickly snapped them shut. “Ow.” I pressed the bridge of my nose with two fingers, trying to alleviate the pain. “Why was the light so bright?”I wondered, “I’m not inside, that’s for sure, and I’ve never seen anything like this in nature. An idea crept its way into my thoughts which caused panic to well up in my chest and grip my throat.  

“Am I …dead?”

Were the transports used just as a ruse for citizens? No one has ever been seen again after they were taken. Were they killed then and there, in those large streamlined vehicles? It was the only explanation I could think of for the eerie, unnatural light all around me, drastic as it may be. 

Taking a deep breath, the hypothesis that bounced around in my head began to steady. “You don’t know anything just yet and you’re not going to find out answers if you just sit here,” I told myself before reopening my eyes. Blinking a few times through the stinging, I began to see outlines. They were thin, tall shapes in great abundance all collected together. The longer I looked the clearer they became. Green was now showing in my vision. Green was everywhere. It was in the grass, in what I now discovered were trees, and even in parts of the horizon. 

“Wow,” I muttered. Has there been anything so beautiful? This would be my kind of heaven. I retracted my statement almost immediately. Maybe not, I could do without this light. Standing now, I made my way to the forest. I was eager to find some shade, but only to cool the stinging in my eyes. Although incredibly bright, the light that engulfed everything was neither hot nor even warm.

The large-leafed trees thankfully provided instant relief from the light and a better understanding of my surroundings. The place that I had woken up in was a vast field. I had only been on the outskirts of it. The grass got taller as the field went on, at some points probably taller than me. 

The green that I saw in the distance, where the field met the sky, perplexed me. It was like a line of trees, but too dense, like mountains, but too uniform and straight. I turned from the distant mystery line and towards the heart of the forest.

 The bright light that illuminated the sky cut through the gaps in the trees’ foliage, creating unique patterns strewn across the floor. Deciding I was doing no good by just standing around, I began to wander. The broad trees felt uniform and equally spread out along the outskirts, but as I crept closer to the interior, I could tell something was different. The light further in had an unsettling feel to it. It was not as painful as the brightness I had been first met with, but instead, it created dark shadows with the excess amount of illumination. The strangeness of this place had kept my thoughts quiet. I was in too much awe to really think about my next actions. Neither food nor shelter bothered me, only the seemingly never-ending plant life I traversed through had any impact on my thoughts.

Not too far into my walk, I had seen a small break in the trees and something, in particular, caught my eye. I rushed up to the clearing, eager for it to be some sort of sign of civilization. I furrowed my brow when what was laying before me turned out to be a statue. She was an angel made of stone, snapped from her perch at the ankles.

 “Great, maybe I am dead! There are even angels here.” I said to myself before examining the statue further. She laid on the ground in a bed of moss, entangled in vines. Her outstretched hand seemed to be pleading for help. I instinctively touched it, even though there was nothing I could have done to help this pitiful sculpture.  

To my dismay, where my hand had touched hers an inky blackness had started to spread across her fingertips. “What the-,” I started, and flinched back, wanting to avert my eyes as the grotesque ink rapidly spread across her great wings and placid face.

I was helpless, I couldn't do anything to stop it.                           

 Once she was fully encompassed, the substance slowly dripped down her arm, away from her hand, like ice melting from a lamppost. The liquid ran off her hand, uncovering pale skin. I stumbled further backward, trying to come up with an explanation. It has been a long day, maybe I’m seeing things? Glancing back at the previously ink-covered statue, the skin of its forearm had been uncovered. My breathing quickened. “What the heck?!” 

I gathered enough courage to touch it, to make sure that this wasn’t a figment of my imagination. I only felt soft skin beneath my rough, calloused fingers. My rigid shoulders relaxed and I watched closely as her arm went limp to her side when the ink fell away. Could I create beings out of stone? 

Soft ginger hair and white wings were slowly revealed. Her chest heaved when the ink faded, taking in draughts of air as she adjusted to her surroundings. After the ink rolled from her eyes she shut them immediately, much as I did. I couldn’t blame her, it took a while for me to get adjusted as well. 

I decided to calm her, “Hello.” I said softly. 

“Edevane?” She gasped, “Are you there?” 

“That’s an odd greeting,” I thought, and decided to humor her with a response, “I don’t know who you speak of. I am Marcellus.” 

“Where is he?” She attempted to get up but fell back down as the vines tugged on her limbs. She opened her eyes again, but closed them quickly, making a sharp cry of pain, “It’s so bright, I can’t see!” 

“I know.” I knelt next to her and placed my hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, we’ll figure this out, you can trust me.” I detangled her from the vines and sat her up. 

“I-I can’t feel my feet!” She cried.  I cringed, recalling how she had fallen from her pedestal. Her feet were absent and her legs rounded off at about the ankle. 

“You broke off your perch.” I didn’t know how else to phrase it, but she seemed to understand. She just nodded and remained quiet, perhaps trying to process the information. “What is your name?” I asked, attempting to align her thoughts. 

“Wren,” she responded. She squinted her closed eyes and tilted her head, breathing at the same rapid rate. 

Questions itched at the back of my throat. I had to know the answers. Maybe it’d help me discover what was going on with these strange things that were happening to me. “How did you get here?” I asked. She did not respond immediately so I waited patiently, willing her to feel at ease rather than rushed. 

“Edevane, the man I spoke of, helped me. I believe he was a half-breed. He froze me here until it would be safe to get me out again.” 

“Half breed?” I exclaimed. The question that I was so quick to ask was not the only one jostled by her strange answer. He froze her? How? 

“Yes, half of my kind, the Generis, and half of yours. They possess magic, but don’t have any outward appearance of it.” She hesitated for a moment before continuing,  “Somehow you were able to release me.”

 It was my turn to sit in silence. Points started connecting in my head. She was a Generis? The people I had read about? The people everybody had said were gone for good? 

“I thought your kind was extinct?” I blurted, immediately regretting that I had. 

“Looks like you’re mistaken.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. 

How was I able to release her? I studied my hand. It looked unfamiliar now like it didn’t belong to me. We sat in silence for a few moments, listening to the eerie stillness all around. “It’s so quiet.” She softly remarked, more to herself than to me. I nodded, forgetting that her eyes remained shut and she couldn’t see my acknowledging motions. 

“Wait, this should help,” I said before tearing off a strip of cloth from the bottom of my shirt and wrapping it around her eyes. 

“What are you-” she started to ask but stopped when she could feel relief from the blinding light. “Thank you.” 

The weight of the surrounding area made it hard to think. Beyond this forest, there was an incredibly vast field, and maybe different, more unique landscapes. Where we were didn’t matter anymore. It was our next steps that made our journey more important. Finding more people was paramount, and could possibly lead to a better explanation. I needed to ask Wren, the only other opinion I had at the moment. “What do we do now?” 

“Well, we should stick together for one thing. I owe you for freeing me.”

“Agreed, but you don’t owe me.” If anything, she helped me. I don’t know what I’d do if I was alone. 

“Perhaps I don’t, but we’re stuck in this place anyway, this… prison.” I nodded in agreement. That’s what this place was, a prison. It was a prison for the innocent, and I was determined to set us free and anyone else who didn’t deserve to be here.