Chapter 24: Chapter 24: Ashfall and Shadows
The journey to Nomad's Rest was anything but restful.
They moved at dawn, under skies heavy with soot and clouds that swirled like bruises. The land around them was the jagged skeleton of a forgotten age: bent metal frames of buildings half-eaten by the Mist, roads broken like dried bones, and silence that crept into the ears and refused to leave.
Jack led the way.
The fight in the Vault had done something to him—left him quieter, his movements sharper. But it wasn't just trauma. It was… focus. The kind of clarity that comes after you've looked death in the eye and found that you're still standing.
But not unchanged.
---
Veyne was the first to speak as they crossed a crumbled highway overpass that had become more vine than concrete.
> "Nomad's Rest isn't what it used to be. We're walking into politics now."
> "Politics?" Jack asked, raising an eyebrow.
> "Scavengers, mercs, ex-military, fallen aristocrats. People who got tired of running and built something. But everyone has their own version of order."
> "And they all think they're right," Lena added.
Jack nodded slowly. "Sounds familiar."
The walk grew heavier as they pushed deeper into the Gray Zone, an area where the Mist didn't move—it waited. Coiled low to the ground, it hissed like a predator in slumber. Jack's Echo pulsed faintly, warning him of hidden fluctuations. Something was off.
They weren't alone.
---
That night, they set up camp in the hollow shell of an overturned freight crawler—one of the old world's armored trucks built for Mist traversal. Now it lay like a rusted whale, its insides gutted, but its shell still strong enough to hold off a night storm.
As Lena secured the perimeter and Veyne kept watch, Jack sat with his back against the metal wall, clutching a piece of tech he had taken from the Vault.
It looked like a memory core—hexagonal, etched with code in a language no human had spoken for centuries. But when Jack touched it with the Echo, images flared in his mind.
> Cities in the sky.
Humans with golden veins.
Voices like stars, whispering truths too vast for a single lifetime.
He snapped back with a gasp, sweat on his brow.
> "What the hell did they hide down there?" he muttered.
He pocketed the device. Whatever it was, someone would kill to take it. And someone already had.
---
Nomad's Rest loomed by midday.
Perched on the ruins of an ancient hydroplant, the settlement looked like it had grown from scrap and desperation. Towers of rusted metal spiraled upward, manned by sentries with infrared lenses and old-world rifles. Drones buzzed overhead, scanning everyone entering.
A group of guards met them at the outer barricade.
One of them—a woman in a tattered officer's coat and a bionic arm—stepped forward.
> "Names," she demanded.
Jack didn't flinch. "Jack. These are Veyne and Lena. We need shelter and information. That enough for a pass?"
She looked them over. Her eyes paused on Jack—longer than necessary.
> "You're the one from the signal burst. The Vault."
> "Maybe."
> "Good. The Council wants to see you. Now."
Before Jack could protest, she turned and barked into her comms. Within moments, two mechanical canines flanked them, their optics glowing blue.
> "Follow me. Try to run, and they'll do more than bark."
---
Inside Nomad's Rest, the world shifted.
Gone were the desperate ramblings of scavengers. Here, there was organization. A kind of brutal, makeshift civilization. Markets bustled. Weapons gleamed. Children played under armored domes while guards stood watch from above.
But the calm was a lie. Jack could feel it. Everyone watched everyone else, and the words spoken were always half-truths.
The Council Chambers were located inside a repurposed reactor core. They descended into the heart of the structure—lit by flickering lights and guarded by men and women with scars from battles long past.
At the center of the room stood a long table shaped like a half-moon. Three figures sat at it.
An old man with an eyepatch and tactical uniform.
A woman with bioluminescent tattoos and a voicebox replacement.
And a boy—no older than fifteen—whose eyes glowed with Echo energy.
> "You're Jack," the boy said, voice too calm for his age.
Jack narrowed his gaze. "You've been watching."
> "Everyone has. That signal from the Vault shook every grid from here to the Azure Strip. You're not just a survivor anymore. You're a trigger."
> "Trigger for what?"
The old man leaned forward.
> "For war. And something far worse. You've touched something buried. Something we spent two decades trying to keep hidden."
Jack clenched his fists. "I didn't choose any of this."
> "Maybe not. But now you carry it. And the world will come hunting."
---
As the Council debated Jack's fate, Lena and Veyne waited outside.
> "They're going to try and use him," Lena whispered.
> "Of course they are," Veyne replied. "Question is… will he let them?"
---
Elsewhere, in the depths of the Mist...
A shadow stirred. Not human. Not beast. But remembering both.
It had once been called Lucien. Now it had no name.
But it had one purpose: Find the Echo Bearer.
And when it did…
> "I will finish what began in fire."