Fields of Grey - WIP

Ch. 5 - Draft 1

Chapter 5

Italics

Haven was more expansive than Reed had imagined. With over ten thousand inhabitants, its interconnected floating platforms stretched for kilometres in every direction, an intricate web of life adrift at the edge of the world. Femke had led him through several of the squares—past schools, churches, even farms that rose in layers, giving the place a verticality he hadn't expected. Every corner of the settlement seemed to hold some new surprise, a stark contrast to the simplicity of the scattered pontoon towns he'd seen, or the extremely organised rows of Mondin.

It was late—though Reed had no real sense of time here. The sky never shifted, its canopy of brilliant little lights twinkling overhead, locked in place. No suns, just the eternal glow of the saltlamps cutting through the thick, endless night.

Now, he and Femke found themselves leaning over the railing of a high balcony, the sprawl of Haven laid out beneath them, both wrapped in a rare moment of silence. Above, the clocktower bell rang out, its deep, resonant tones filling the air. It signalled the start of a new day, though for Reed, it felt like the first one had never really ended.

"Well, Blue," Femke said, breaking the quiet, her voice softer now but still carrying the rough edge he was coming to expect. She didn't turn to look at him, her gaze fixed out over the platform city below. "It's been fun, but I think it's time we get some rest."

Reed glanced at her. The saltlight caught the wild strands of her red hair, setting them aglow like fire in the dimness. For a moment, she looked almost otherworldly, like a flame dancing on the edge of darkness.

"I'm not one to argue," he said with a weary chuckle. "I hadn't realised how tired I was until you mentioned it."

It wasn't entirely true. A dull, gnawing ache had settled in his chest hours ago, slowly draining his strength. He wasn't sure if it was the weight of everything he'd learned—or the creeping dread of what still lay ahead—but it was wearing him down, piece by piece.

"Well, come on then." Femke glanced back at Reed, a slight skip in her step. "Time to go home."

Reed followed her through Haven, weaving deeper into the city. They walked for a good ten minutes, slipping into a part of Haven he hadn't seen yet. The buildings here were narrow and tall, leaning toward the street in a way that made everything feel cramped, almost suffocating.

It reminded Reed of the lower decks of the H.M.S. Restitution, where space was a luxury no one could afford. Wooden structures, with metal finishings here and there, seemed to jostle for breathing room, their windows flickering under the dim light of salt lamps. The oppressive tightness of the alleys only deepened the sense of isolation that had clung to him all day.

Eventually, Femke stopped in front of a door that stood out from the rest—a heavy brass thing, aged but beautiful, with intricate embellishments carved into the frame. Reed paused, taking it in. This was a far cry from the barebones cabin he'd been stuck in.

Without hesitation, Femke pounded her fist against the brass, the sound echoing deeply in the quiet. They waited, the minutes stretching longer than Reed expected, until finally, the door creaked open on its hinges.

A man stood in the doorway, shorter than Reed had anticipated. He was bald on top, with what remained of his hair a greying ginger that matched the unruly nature of Femke's. His clothes, while not overtly flashy, had a certain elegance to them—a well-fitted vest beneath a smoking jacket, paired with simple grey slacks. Small rectangular glasses rested low on his nose, and behind them were eyes the colour of sea glass: bright, sharp green. Those eyes flicked first to Femke, then quickly to Reed, a raised brow accompanying a flicker of surprise.