The first thing Kael felt was weight.
Not pain—at least not at first—but the suffocating heaviness of something pressing down on his chest, as if the air itself had thickened. His eyelids fluttered, refusing to open, and a dull ringing filled his ears. Voices drifted in and out, distant and overlapping, like waves breaking against a shore he couldn't see.
"…stable now."
"…no internal bleeding."
"…lucky to be alive."
The words meant nothing.
Kael's eyes snapped open.
White light flooded his vision. He gasped, instinctively trying to sit up, only for a sharp ache to bloom across his ribs and shoulders. A groan escaped his throat as unseen hands gently pushed him back down.
"Easy," a voice said. Calm. Professional. "You're in the hospital."
The curtain rustled softly.
"Vitals are stable," the nurse said in a low voice. "Pulse is still elevated, but that's expected."
The doctor exhaled through his nose. "Any signs of neurological shock?"
"No," she replied. Then, quieter, "But… about his mother—"
"We'll discuss that later," the doctor cut in gently. "Not here."
The nurse hesitated. "Doctor, the condition of the body—"
"I know," he said, voice firm now. "And that's exactly why we don't tell him."
Kael's head turned sharply to the side, heart hammering as memory came rushing back in fragments—sirens, fire, the street breaking apart, that thing crawling across the ground—
His mother.
Kael's breath hitched. "My—" His voice cracked instantly. "My mom. Where's my mom?"
Both of them turned.
The nurse was faster to speak. "You're awake earlier than expected," she said, stepping closer to the bed. "How are you feeling?"
"My chest hurts," Kael said. "And my head. Did you treat me already?"
"Yes," she nodded. "Minor fractures. Heavy stress response. You were lucky."
Kael frowned. "Lucky?"
Kael." A man stepped into his field of view, placing a steady hand on the railing of the bed. He wore a doctor's coat, his expression carefully neutral. "You need to stay calm
"Kael, do you remember what happened before you lost consciousness?"
Kael swallowed. "My mom was trapped. I tried to—" His voice wavered. "Is she… being treated too?"
The nurse looked away.
The doctor didn't. "She was brought in by emergency services," he said carefully.
"And?" Kael pressed.
"She's… receiving attention," the doctor replied. "Right now, our priority is you."
"That's not an answer," Kael said. His fingers clenched the sheet. "Why won't anyone look at me when I ask?"
The nurse swallowed hard. "You need rest," she said softly. "Your body—"
"My mom doesn't need rest," Kael snapped. "She needs help."
The doctor raised a hand. "Kael. Please. You're in no condition to handle more stress."
Kael laughed weakly. "So you're lying to me."
No one denied it.
The nurse's voice dropped to a whisper. "Sometimes… knowing everything all at once can do more harm than good."
Kael stared at her. "So she's hurt badly."
The nurse beside him hesitated.
The doctor said nothing.
Just for a fraction of a second.
That was enough.
Kael tried to sit up again, panic surging through his veins. "Where is she?" he demanded, louder now. "She was—she was there—"
"Don't say that," Kael snapped. "She is—"
Silence.
Not the awkward kind.
The deliberate kind.
Kael stopped moving.
The room felt suddenly too quiet.
"I need you to rest," the doctor said finally. "You've been through a severe traumatic event. We're monitoring you closely."
That was not an answer.
Kael's fingers curled into the thin hospital sheets. His chest tightened, breath coming shallow and uneven. He stared past the doctor, at the blank wall, at the faint reflection of himself in the glass.
He didn't scream.
He didn't cry.
Not yet.
Hours passed. Or maybe minutes. Time didn't behave properly anymore.
When Kael woke again, the room was dimmer. Evening light filtered through the blinds, casting long shadows across the floor. His body ached in places he didn't remember injuring, exhaustion pressing into his bones.
He fell asleep.
Some kind of sound woke kael up. Kael turned around, The ECMO machine was plugged in, a faint blue light came from the generator below the actual machine. On one corner was written Nexora green energy limited(NGEL).Kael tries to sleep again. Deliberately, to forget all the pain he went through.
He wakes up the following day. It was a monday, the hospital was busy. Cleaners,sweepers, and a bunch of sanitary robots roamed around the hospital, the hospital smelled of disinfectant, harsh, mettalic and yet clean.
A television mounted to the wall was on.
Muted.
Kael turned his head slowly, eyes narrowing as he focused on the moving images.
A news anchor sat behind a pristine desk, expression solemn.
"…earlier today, a structural collapse occurred in Sector 18 following a reported gas line malfunction," the ticker below read. "Emergency services responded swiftly. Authorities have confirmed multiple injuries but no ongoing threat to civilians."
Kael's pulse spiked.The ECG beeped.
A nurse hurried to reach Kael, and comforted Kael.
The footage shifted—blurred images of his street, filmed from above. Smoke rising. Emergency lights flashing. Rescue workers moving with mechanical efficiency.
No mention of the thing. Like it wasn't even a thing.
No mention of the creature that had torn the street apart.
No mention of the swords. The drones. The hunters in white.
Kael sat up slowly, ignoring the protest of his body.
The anchor continued, "Officials have urged the public not to spread unverified information or rumors circulating online. Any reports of abnormal activity have been confirmed as misinformation."
Misinformation.
Kael let out a hollow, disbelieving laugh.
He reached for the remote on the side table and turned the volume up.
Another segment began—this one different.
Aid workers unloading supplies. Temporary shelters being set up. Engineers in clean uniforms examining damage.
A familiar logo appeared on screen.
**NEXORA**
"Corporate giant Nexora has pledged immediate support to the affected area," the anchor said. "Providing emergency funding, infrastructure repair units, and free Urua Core power supplies to ensure uninterrupted electricity for hospitals and rescue operations."
"Amestris' pride." Said one anchor.
The camera cut to sleek machines being wheeled into place—compact, humming softly with contained energy. Urua core genrators. Faintly blue colured light was shing under the metal of the genrators. Clean. Efficient. Silent.
Kael's jaw tightened.
His father had worked for Nexora.
Mathhew Cleric . A man who believed in systems, in progress, in doing things the right way. Systematically and productively.
*Amestris' pride,* he used to say, his quote is now being spoken by the anchors.
Kael gets emotional and turned the TV off.
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Few days later he was relieved from the hospital. He didn't stay long.
No one stopped him when he pulled the IV from his arm. No one questioned him as he changed into his clothes—creased, faintly smelling of smoke. His body protested every movement, but he ignored it.
The hallway outside his room was crowded. Some people cried quietly. Others stared blankly at walls. Everyone wore the same lost expression.
Kael walked past them all.
Outside, the city looked… normal.
Too normal.
Traffic flowed. Screens flashed advertisements. Nexora's logo glowed from a massive digital board downtown, bright and untouchable.
Sector 18 lay ahead.
Or what was left of it.
Police barricades blocked the main roads, reinforced by armed personnel in dark uniforms. Drones hovered overhead, their lenses sweeping the area methodically.
Kael approached anyway.
"Stop." A guard raised a hand. "Restricted area."
"That's my home," Kael said. His voice sounded distant to his own ears.
"No civilians allowed," the guard replied. "Orders."
Kael's gaze drifted past him, toward the faint outline of damaged buildings in the distance. Toward the place where everything had broken.
"When will we be allowed back?" he asked quietly.
The guard didn't answer.
Kael nodded once and stepped back.
There was nothing left to say.
Night fell.
Kael sat alone on a bench across the street, streetlights buzzing faintly overhead. His phone rested heavy in his hand, screen dark.
He hadn't checked it since the hospital.
Slowly, hesitantly, he unlocked it.
Messages. Missed calls. Names he didn't want to see.
At the bottom of the screen, one contact stood apart.
**Unknown**
No photo.
No details.
Just a number.
Kael's thumb hovered over it.
The man's voice echoed in his head—calm, steady, utterly unafraid.
*Artemidorus.*
Kael swallowed.
The city continued around him, unaware. Unbothered. Alive.
Somewhere, behind walls and barriers and carefully edited news reports, the truth slept beneath layers of silence.
Kael stared at the number for a long time.
Then he locked the screen.
Not yet.
But soon.
Very soon.
Kael's mind was a custard of emotions, shock,sadness,pain and the obvious ignorance because of the delusion of the world he lived in
And far beneath him, something stirred. Unstoppable, never-ending, unforgiving...