Snow burst out of the hut, her boots hitting the dirt with a solid thud. The sudden brightness stung her eyes, forcing her to shield them with her hand. Her breathing was still uneven, and her body ached from the fall and whatever crude medical attention had been applied to her injuries. But none of that mattered now. She needed to find Rain.
She blinked hard, her vision adjusting, and froze mid-step.
The air smelled... clean. There was no metallic tang of rust, no acrid stench of chemicals or decay. For the first time in years, Snow inhaled deeply and felt no burning in her throat. Around her, patches of green grass swayed gently in the wind, interrupted by small clusters of wildflowers in colors she hadn't seen in years—vivid purples, yellows, and whites. A narrow stream cut through the village, its water so clear she could see the smooth pebbles beneath. She stared in disbelief at a world that felt like something out of an old story, a place untouched by the Collapse.
Huts and houses made of clay, stone, and wood dotted the hilltop, their rooftops sloping low. Strings of vibrant cloth banners fluttered between them, marked with strange symbols in bright, cheerful hues. The air buzzed faintly with laughter and the murmur of voices, yet it all seemed impossibly serene. Snow instinctively reached for her machete, but it wasn't on her belt. She'd left it in the hut.
Behind her, she heard the soft crunch of footsteps. The middle-aged man from earlier—the one with the weathered face and gray-streaked hair—stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame.
"Quite a sight, isn't it?" he said, his voice calm and even, like he'd seen this reaction a thousand times before.
Snow didn't answer. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. This couldn't be real. The north was supposed to be the Darklands—red storms, jagged rocks, and nothing else.
The man chuckled softly. "You look like someone who just saw the world turn upside down." He stepped forward, gesturing at the village. "Welcome to Havenium, or as some folks call it, the Mineral Springs. Hidden away, untouched by the madness out there."
"Havenium?" Snow repeated, the name foreign on her tongue.
The man nodded. "That's what they call themselves. The people here—descendants of the original settlers who found this place. They believe in purifying the body, mind, and soul with the waters here. They call it the 'Water of Life.'"
Snow frowned. "And you? You don't sound like one of them."
He laughed lightly, the lines around his eyes creasing. "You're quick. No, I'm not one of them. Name's Bishop. I'm just a man who got lucky enough to stumble across this place years ago. I'm no preacher or true believer, but I'm useful." He gestured vaguely at her. "Got some knowledge of medicine, patching people up. That's enough for them to let me stay."
Snow's eyes narrowed. "Where is this place?"
Bishop tilted his head slightly, as though the answer was obvious. "The north."
Snow shook her head, the pieces refusing to fit together. "That's impossible. The north is the Darklands. There's nothing here but rock and storms."
Bishop raised an eyebrow. "That was years ago. Things change. Havenium says the land here was healed by something they call the Haven. You'd probably call it Paradise, though, wouldn't you? The terraforming protocol?"
Snow froze, the words hitting her like a blow. Paradise. The system built by the Old Ones, designed to bring the ruined world back to life. She had always heard it was a failure—a half-baked dream that fizzled out long before it could make a difference. Yet here she stood, in what could only be described as... a miracle.
Bishop watched her carefully, as though measuring her reaction. "You've heard of it, haven't you?"
Snow nodded slowly, her voice quiet. "The Once-World's last hope. It was supposed to save everything."
He shrugged. "Maybe it didn't save everything, but it saved this."
Snow's gaze swept across the village again. Children laughed and ran between the houses, their yellow tunics fluttering. Adults walked calmly with baskets of herbs or water jugs, their faces relaxed in a way Snow hadn't seen in years. The people here were unlike anyone she'd encountered before—calm, peaceful, untouched by the desperation that defined the rest of the world.
Bishop stepped closer. "Come on. There's someone waiting for you."
Snow followed him reluctantly, her guard still up despite the tranquility around her. As they walked through the village, she noticed more details—symbols painted on walls, spirals, and flowing shapes in vibrant reds, blues, and greens. The people wore religious garments marked with the same patterns, their expressions serene yet focused, like they were part of something greater than themselves.
This place was alive. Vibrant. It felt... wrong. Snow's instincts screamed at her to stay alert, to find the danger lurking beneath the surface.
Bishop led her to a wide clearing near the edge of the village, where a group of children were gathered in a circle. In the center, Rain sat cross-legged, a bright smile on her face as she held a battered book open. She was speaking animatedly, her voice carrying on the breeze.
"And that's how the Old Ones sent messages across the sky," Rain said, her hands moving to mimic some invisible signal. The children giggled, their eyes wide with fascination.
Snow stopped in her tracks, her chest tightening at the sight. Rain looked... happy.
"Go on," Bishop said softly, stepping aside.
Snow hesitated, her fists clenching at her sides. Then, steeling herself, she called out, "Rain."
Rain's head snapped up, her mismatched eyes locking onto Snow. For a moment, she simply stared, her expression unreadable. Then, with a cry of pure joy, she leapt to her feet and ran toward her.
Snow barely had time to brace herself before Rain collided with her, wrapping her arms tightly around her neck.
"Snow!" Rain's voice was muffled against her shoulder. "I thought... I thought you were—"
"I'm fine," Snow said gruffly, though her arms instinctively came up to hold Rain. "You're the one running off and playing with kids while I'm unconscious."
Rain pulled back just enough to look at her, her smile bright and teary. "You're really okay?"
Snow smirked faintly. "Takes more than a ladder and some ratlings to get rid of me."
Rain laughed, the sound light and genuine. For a moment, everything else faded away—the village, the Havenium, even the strange, unexplainable paradise around them.
"You found me," Rain said softly.
"Always," Snow replied.
————————————————————————————————————————————
The light in the medicine hut was dim and flickering, the thin beams of evening sun barely slipping through the cracks in the walls. Snow leaned back against the rough wooden frame of the cot, arms crossed, watching as Rain sat on the edge of the bed across from her. The other girl had been talking for some time now, her voice soft yet steady, recounting the events that had transpired in the metro tunnels.
"I tried everything," Rain said, her mismatched eyes downcast, fixed on her hands as they fidgeted nervously with the hem of her shirt. "When you fell, I thought—I thought you were gone, Snow. I panicked. I used up everything we had—our smokebangers, the last of sparkrods, even the scraps of fire gel. But they just kept coming, skittering and screeching." She shuddered, her voice trailing off for a moment.
Snow's jaw tightened. She could picture it too vividly: the swarming ratlings, their matted fur and needle-like teeth, their eyes glinting with primal hunger in the dark. She hated that Rain had been left to face them alone, hated herself more for not being strong enough to stay on her feet.
Rain continued, her tone quieter now. "I really thought it was the end. I was out of options. And then..." She paused, looking up at Snow with a weak smile. "Then he showed up. Bishop."
Snow raised an eyebrow. "The middle-aged guy who patched us up?"
Rain nodded. "He came out of nowhere with this... this repellant, some kind of old-world concoction that made the ratlings scatter. I barely managed to see him before I passed out." She gestured around the hut. "When I woke up, we were here. Bishop said he carried us both back and treated our wounds. He was kind enough to let me rest, and once he saw I was doing better, I decided to explore the village."
Snow narrowed her eyes. "And you just... wandered off? Without making sure I was alive?"
Rain flushed, her cheeks darkening. "I—well, Bishop said you'd be fine! And besides, this place... I had to see it for myself. Snow, it's incredible here. The people, the way they live—it's so different from anything we've seen. It's like stepping into a dream."
Snow grunted noncommittally, but she couldn't deny that Rain had a point. The village, for all its bizarre serenity, was unlike any place Snow had ever set foot in. Too clean, too bright, too alive. It made her uneasy.
Rain tilted her head. "He said we can stay as long as we want. But there's a catch—you can't carry weapons. Havenium rules."
Snow scowled, instinctively reaching for her machete before remembering it was no longer strapped to her side. "That's convenient. Take away the one thing that keeps people alive out there."
"It's not like that," Rain said quickly, her tone earnest. "They don't need weapons here, Snow. They've built something... different. Safer."
Snow didn't respond, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Rain reached out, placing a hand on Snow's arm. "Come with me. There's something I want you to see."
The ceremonial circle was at the heart of the village, a wide, open space lined with smooth stones that glowed faintly under the warm orange light of the setting sun. At its center stood a tall, weathered totem carved with intricate spirals and symbols, its surface painted in vibrant colors. Around it, the Havenium villagers were gathered, their yellow robes swaying gently in the breeze as they knelt in concentric circles.
Snow and Rain stood at the edge of the clearing, watching as an elderly woman—clearly a leader of some kind—stepped forward. Her face was lined with age, but her eyes were sharp, and her voice carried with surprising strength.
"Clear your minds," the woman said, her tone calm yet commanding. "Rid yourselves of the thoughts that poison you—greed, anger, pride. Let them go, and open your hearts to compassion, joy, and unity. Only then can you create Haven, not just here, but within yourselves."
The villagers echoed her words softly: "Haven in our mind."
Snow shifted uncomfortably, her arms crossed tightly. The scene felt too orchestrated, too rehearsed. But Rain was watching intently, her face filled with quiet admiration.
When the prayers ended, the elderly woman approached them, her steps slow but deliberate. She stopped in front of the two girls and inclined her head slightly. "You are our guests," she said, her voice warm. "I am Mother Patience. Welcome to our Haven."
"Thank you," Rain said quickly, bowing her head.
Snow said nothing, her expression guarded.
Mother Patience studied them for a moment, her gaze lingering on Rain. "You carry the weight of something unfinished," she said softly. "But the path ahead is clearer than you realize. May you find the strength to see it through."
Rain blinked, startled by the words. Snow frowned.
"Come," Mother Patience said, placing a hand on Rain's shoulder briefly before turning away. "This evening is for peace."
The mineral spring was tucked away at the edge of the village, surrounded by a grove of trees whose leaves shimmered faintly in the moonlight. The water was warm, its surface steaming slightly in the cool evening air. Snow leaned back against the smooth edge of the spring, letting the tension in her muscles ease for the first time in what felt like years.
"This is ridiculous," she muttered, though her tone lacked its usual bite.
Rain, sitting across from her, let out a soft laugh. "You like it. Admit it."
Snow snorted. "It's water. Warm water. Don't make it a big deal."
Rain splashed her lightly, grinning. "It's more than that. It's... life. Real, clean life."
Snow sighed, staring up at the dark sky. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, quietly, Snow said, "I get it now."
Rain looked at her, curious.
"Paradise," Snow continued. "I thought it was just another fairy tale. Another lie to get people killed. But seeing this place... I get why you wanted to find it. Why you still want to find it. If it is because of that Paradise that this place can be built, then it is worth trying to find it after all, to make the whole world become like this."
Rain's smile faded, and she looked away, her expression suddenly somber.
"Rain?" Snow frowned.
Rain didn't answer at first, her fingers tracing idle patterns in the water. Finally, she said, "Actually, I...not going to find Paradise anymore."
Snow sat up, staring at her. "What?"
Rain met her gaze, her eyes filled with quiet determination. "I'm staying here. And I want you to stay with me."
Snow blinked, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to find words. "What are you talking about? You've been chasing this dream for years. You don't just... give up."
"It's not giving up," Rain said softly. "It's choosing something better."
Snow shook her head, her voice rising. "What about everything we've been through? What about Gemma? What about—"
"Exactly," Rain interrupted, her voice breaking slightly. "Because of me, Gemma's gone. Because of me, you almost died. I can't keep dragging people into this. I can't keep risking everything. For what? My obsession? That stupid goal to try to find Paradise?"
Snow stared at her, stunned.
Rain's expression softened, and she reached out, her hand brushing Snow's. "This is what I want, Snow. To stay here, to be safe. And I want you to be safe too. We've done enough."
With that, she stood, wrapping herself in a towel and stepping out of the spring. "I'm leaving first," she said quietly, before walking away.
Snow sat there, alone in the steaming water, her thoughts churning. She didn't know what felt worse—the fact that Rain might be right, or the gnawing feeling that she was wrong.