Dreambreaker

The Edge of Exile

The Exile stretched before Jayde and Kyle like an uncharted world, each step carrying them deeper into the unknown. Wild trees cast long shadows across the landscape, and vibrant greenery seemed to swallow the path behind them as if they were walking into a living maze. 

The air here was different—richer, cleaner, almost untouched by the strict and suffocating control of the Regime. Yet, even in this momentary freedom, there was an unsettling tension in the air. They were still hunted.

Jayde's heart thudded in her chest, her hand clutching Kyle's tightly, though it felt more like she was holding him up. He stumbled alongside her, his once-sharp gaze clouded by pain. The infection from his wound had taken a vicious turn, and no matter how many herbs she had applied in the cave, nothing seemed to help. The skin around the cut was inflamed, red streaks crawling dangerously across his side. Every step was agonizing for him.

"We have to keep going," Jayde whispered, though she knew Kyle was struggling to stay on his feet.

Kyle winced, his breathing labored. "I know... I just need a moment," he muttered, leaning heavily against a tree trunk. His pale face glistened with sweat, and Jayde bit her lip, torn between pushing him forward and finding a safer place to rest.

They had been following the clues from her dream, trying to track down the Resistance and the mysterious land beyond the Regime's borders. The Exile had to be close—but they were running out of time. Kyle was running out of time.

Jayde looked at him, guilt gnawing at her insides. She should have been faster, should have found the Resistance by now. Every second counted, and every delay could mean Kyle's life.But they were no longer alone in the wilderness. Her instincts screamed at her to move as she scanned the woods around them.

And then she saw them—shadowy figures emerging from the trees like ghosts, their movements too quiet for comfort. Three Regime Enforcers, draped in black uniforms that made them blend into the forest like predators hunting their prey. Their leader—a tall, silver-haired man with cold, calculating eyes—carried a rifle across his back. Two others flanked him, their hands brimming with faint, dark energy.

Jayde's breath hitched. Magic. Weak, twisted magic—but magic nonetheless. She hadn't expected this. Magic was supposed to be the stuff of myths, of stories passed down in whispers. Even in the Regime's most secretive divisions, it was a forgotten art. Yet here were two Enforcers wielding it, the faint glow of it shimmering at their fingertips.

Kyle hadn't noticed yet, his vision too blurred with pain. Jayde tugged him lower, pulling them both behind a thick bush, but her mind raced with confusion and panic. Magic—here, with the Regime? How could that be?

"Stay low," she whispered to Kyle, pressing him into the ground as best she could. But Kyle was fading fast. His body slumped against hers, and for a second, Jayde feared he might pass out altogether.

Her heart pounded as the Enforcers grew closer. The silver-haired one raised his hand, motioning toward their hiding spot. The other two followed, eyes narrowed, their dark magic crackling faintly in the air like a sickening static.

"Someone's here," the leader muttered into his radio. "Move in."