Beram, a daring sky dweller, defies propaganda alongside Toro and Gin Razor to explore the forbidden surface world. Whispers of a hidden truth lure them into a land rumored to be overrun by cyber monsters, only to discover a world brimming with life...
Content Warning: This book contains mature content including violence, sexual abuse and assault, addiction, war, imperialism, mental health topics such as panic attacks, PTSD, racism, and religious trauma.
South of the world is the island suspended in the sky, South Yago. This island is quite different form the island West Arkvine. This island is under the authority of the King Yago and the Royal family.
The slums of South Yago were a labyrinth of rusted metal and tattered canvas. The air hung thick with the stench of garbage and despair. Beneath a synthetic sky perpetually tinged orange, a young man with ocean-blue hair and matching eyes hunched over a dirty sketchpad. TORO, 18, his face etched with fatigue, meticulously drew a wilting, artificial flower.
Across from him, a hulking figure with cybernetic enhancements glared at the drawing. This was REN, Toro's comrade friend, his arm replaced with a gleaming metal appendage. "There's no beauty in that thing, Toro," Ren scoffed. "Just plastic petals and a fake stem. Artificial, just like everything on these damn Sky Lands."
Toro didn't look up. "It still has a form," he muttered, the lead scraping faintly across the paper.
"Form? Who cares about form when we're all about to be devoured by cyber monsters!" Ren slammed his fist on the makeshift table, sending a tremor through the rickety shelter.
Toro finally raised his head, a flicker of defiance in his blue eyes.
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Ren's face hardened. Toro's brother had been chosen for the annual selection years ago, never to be seen again.
A booming voice shattered the tense silence. "Attention all Walkers! The annual selection commences today!" Drones buzzed overhead, casting their cold, mechanical gaze upon the slums.
Scene 2: The Hall of Selection
BERAM, 18, a young man, Black hair, his body malnourished like those living in the sky lands. A young man who sees the world in black and white, literally.
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Beram stood frozen in the grand hall. Towering above him loomed a monstrous creature of bone and flesh, its form shifting and pulsating with an unnatural energy. This was SUICIDE, a manifestation of Beram's deepest torment.
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"So, I guess you finally realize," a voice rasped, seemingly emanating from everywhere and nowhere at once. "There's no other way but to throw your life away and let go of pain."
Beram stared at Suicide, his expression devoid of emotion. "Depression, I've been chosen for the annual selection" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
The creature chuckled, a sound like scraping bone. "Oui, that's unfortunate. That means you will be thrown to the surface and devoured by Barrakudo."
Scene 3: The Selection Platform
A weary line of Walkers snaked across the platform, each one stepping before a panel of stern-faced Royals. Their pristine, shimmering clothing stood in stark contrast to the Walkers' worn uniforms.
Toro shuffled along the line, his eyes fixed on his drawing. Ren stood beside him, a mixture of anger and fear etched on his face. As they approached the panel, a Royal with an imperious air peered at them.
"Name?"
"Ren Ringwod," Ren growled.
The Royal tapped a dismissive hand on the console. "Chosen."
Ren's face contorted in fury. He stormed off the platform, disappearing into the crowd of newly selected Walkers.
Toro's turn came. He met the Royal's gaze with stoic indifference.
"Name?"
He didn't answer.
"Name!" the Royal barked.
Toro finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper. "Toro Law."
Another dismissive tap. "Chosen."
Toro stepped away from the platform, his gaze fixed on the drawing in his hand. A faint smile played on his lips - a smile devoid of joy, but tinged with a strange sense of acceptance.
Scene 4: A Flashback
A younger, healthier Toro sat in his ramshackle shelter, staring at a tattered art book. A faint smell of rain lingered in the air - a rare occurrence in the sterile environment of the Sky Lands. Across from him sat his older brother, a determined glint in his eyes.
"If you go to the surface," his brother said, his voice thick with emotion, "survive. And never stop drawing until you draw something worth living for."
The scene blurred, fading back to the present. Toro gripped the sketchpad tighter, the wilting flower now a symbol of something more - a promise, a burden, a spark of hope in the face of despair.
