The recreational room was a long, low-ceilinged space with grey stone walls and narrow windows that let in slivers of pale afternoon light. In the corner stood a clay bowl filled with water, a wooden ladle floating at its edge.
The teenagers formed a line, each taking two or three scoops before moving to their assigned tables.
Loki, Mari, Tars, and Mends claimed their usual spot a square table with two chairs on each side. Four thin books lay waiting, one before each seat. The cover bore the same title they had read every day for two years:Why You Are Here
Tars dropped into her chair and flipped the book open with more force than necessary. "Really pisses me off. We have to read this every day? It's only thirty pages. We've been reading it for two years."
Mends sat across from her, his book already open to the first illustration. "Yeah, but we get it, don't we?" His voice was quieter than usual. "The monsters attacked. Our parents are either dead or fighting somewhere out there."
Loki looked at the page Mends was studying. A human hung from the beak of a massive lightning bear, its fur crackling with blue-white energy. Men in white robes with blue hoods thrust spears at the beast. Behind them, a village burned.
That could have been our home, Loki thought. Maybe it was.
"That's why we have to mine harder," Mari said softly. She sat beside Loki, her small hands resting on the book's cover. "The soul crystals we collect, the warriors need them to fight the monsters."
Loki turned to a page showing a teenager lying on a metal table, a needle pressed to their arm. The text beneath read:
At fifteen, you will be tested for bloodline affinity. If your attribute exceeds 10%, you will be chosen to evolve. You will fight for all mankind.
He traced the words with his fingertip. "When we awaken our bloodline, we'll fight those bastards ourselves."
Across the table, Tars had stopped flipping pages. She was staring at an illustration of rows of cribs, infants sleeping beneath white blankets. Attendants in grey robes moved between them, their faces blank and efficient. The caption read:
The camps were built to protect the next generation. Only through sacrifice can humanity endure.
Mends had found a page showing teenagers exactly like them brown robes, straw hats, pickaxes raised against black rock. Training of the mind, the caption read. Every crystal mined brings mankind one step closer to victory.
"We're playing our part," Mends said, closing his book. "One day we'll be the ones to lead everyone to safety."
"Don't be an idiot." Tars's voice was flat. "Do you know how many people read this book? How many thought they'd be the ones to end the suffering?" She tapped the cover with a nail-bitten finger.
"We're just going to continue the cycle. That's all anyone ever does."
No one spoke.
Tars pressed on, her words coming faster now. "Only a few of us will have an attribute above ten percent. The rest stay here. Keep mining. Keep reading this stupid book." She laughed. "That's the truth they don't put in the pictures."
"Tars." Mari's voice was sharp, surprising them all. "That's enough."
Tars's head snapped up.
"Why must you always be like this?" Mari's eyes glistened. "Do you think we don't know? That we're blind? We know, Tars. We know. But at least let us have this hour. Let us dream."
The room had grown quieter. At nearby tables, other teenagers had stopped pretending to read. Some watched. Some stared at their own books, shoulders trembling.
Loki looked at the final page the one he always came back to. Mankind stood in a circle, arms raised in victory. Behind them rose a great walled kingdom. No monsters. No flames. Just people, smiling.
The caption read: This is why you are here.
He closed the book gently.
"Tars," he said, keeping his voice low. "I know you hate being optimistic about the future. I know it feels like a trap." He met her eyes. "But if there's a chance even a small one to stop this madness, we have to try."
Mends wiped his face with the back of his hand. "The priest said humans used to have families. Real families. Parents and children living together, no war, no monsters. We were happy once."
His voice cracked. "Look at us now, Tars. Look how miserable we are." He swallowed hard. "I know it's stupid to hope. But please let me be stupid. Just for an hour."
The silence stretched.
Then Tars's face crumpled.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. She gripped the edges of the table. "I just don't want to dream. I don't want to be hurt again." Her voice broke. "In the children's camp, I had dreams. Friends. Then they brought me here, separated me from everyone, and now " She bit her lip hard.
"Why should I dream about a future with you when it might all be taken away again?"
Mari reached across the table and took Tars's hand.
Mends was already crying, his shoulders shaking. Around them, the room had dissolved into quiet sobs other tables, other groups, the same conversations ending the same way they always did.
Loki exhaled slowly and looked at Mari. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she was smiling at Tars, holding her hand like it was the only thing keeping her anchored.
We keep having this same conversation, Loki thought. Every break. Every day. And we always end up crying.
He reached over and placed his hand on Mari's shoulder. She leaned into him, still holding Tars's hand across the table.
No one read the book anymore. They just sat there, four teenagers in brown robes, letting the weight of everything settle on them like dust from the mines.
The bell rang.
"Evening meal. Get ready."
The words were automatic now. They rose from their chairs, stacked the books, and walked toward the dining hall in silence. Their eyes were red, their faces streaked, but no one spoke. In the dining hall they would eat in silence. Then showers. Then bed.
Another day done.
The bloodline assessment was coming. The priest had said it would be soon. Days, maybe weeks. Loki didn't know if he wanted it to come faster or slower. He only knew that every night he lay in the dark, listening to Mari breathe across the room, and thought about the final page of that book.
This is why you are here.
He wanted to believe it. He needed to believe it.
Because if it wasn't true if they were just mining crystals to fuel a war that would never end, if the injections were just another way to die, if the green fields were just a story told to children so they would swing their picks a little harder.
He stopped the thought before it could finish.
One day, he told himself, climbing into bed as the lights went out. One day we'll walk in the green fields.
Across the room, Mari's breathing slowed into sleep.
Loki stared at the ceiling and waited for morning.