Fallen Sky

Chapter 1 - The Descent

Kira's pov

They say guilt doesn’t have a weight. That it’s just in your head, a phantom that sits quietly in the back of your mind. But that’s a lie. Guilt has a weight, and it’s the heaviest thing in the universe.

I’ve been carrying it for as long as I can remember.

My name is Kira Arden. I’m sixteen years old. A second child. In *The Arcanum*, that’s all it takes to get a death sentence. Three years ago, my parents and my brother, Owen, paid the price for my birth. Their only crime was loving me, keeping me, hiding me. But when The Zenith found out, they didn’t care about love. They only cared about the rules. No family is allowed more than one child. It was simple—my parents broke that law, and they died for it. Owen was eighteen when they took him, old enough to be punished, too.

I was left to rot in this cell.

Every day, I wake up with the same image burned into my mind: Owen’s face, twisted in anger, just before they dragged him away. He wasn’t afraid, not even at the end. But he was furious. Furious at The Zenith. Furious at the world. Maybe even furious at me. I’ll never know. 

They shot him. Right in front of me. And now, they expect me to live with it.

That’s why I write. Not because I think anyone will read this someday—because it’s the only way to stop the memories from swallowing me whole. If I put the guilt on these pages, it stays here, where it can’t crush me.

At least, that’s the idea.

But today’s different. I can feel it. Something’s coming, something bigger than anything I’ve ever felt before. It’s in the air, in the way the guards move outside my cell—like they know a secret they’re not supposed to tell.

They think we don’t notice when things shift, but we do. We always do.

***

Everyone in the lower sectors whispers about it: how *The Arcanum* is running out of oxygen, how the supplies are dwindling. But no one talks about it openly, not unless they want to disappear. The Zenith keeps everyone in the dark, as if pretending everything’s fine will make it true. But we’re not stupid. We know they’re lying.

What they haven’t told us—what I know deep in my bones—is that something is coming. Something called the *Descent Protocol*. It’s a term I overheard once, whispered between guards when they thought no one was listening. I don’t know what it means, but I’ve got a feeling it’s not good. I’ve been waiting for the day they come for us, the prisoners, the ones they’ve shoved out of sight for years. Waiting for the day they decide we’re more useful dead than alive.

And now, I think that day is today.

The Arcanum has been my prison since I was thirteen. I’ve learned to read the signs, to feel the change in the air before anything happens. I can sense it now. The tension, the fear. It’s like the whole station is holding its breath, waiting for something to break.

And then, the door to my cell flies open.

***

The sound is deafening, the metal door slamming against the wall with a crash that shakes the entire room. I jump to my feet, heart racing, but there’s no time to react. Two guards storm in, faces hidden behind those dark visors that make them look less human, more like machines.

Before I can say a word, one of them grabs me, twisting my arm behind my back. Pain shoots through my shoulder, but I grit my teeth, refusing to scream. I’ve been waiting for this, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

The second guard steps in front of me, pulling a syringe from his belt. I know what’s coming. I’ve seen it before—when they drag prisoners out of their cells, inject them with something to knock them out. I won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me scared.

“Let go of me!” I snarl, but my words are cut off by the sharp sting of the needle plunging into my arm. The liquid burns as it spreads through my veins, cold at first, then hot, like fire under my skin. My legs go weak, and I sag against the guard, but he doesn’t let me fall.

“Stay still,” the guard growls, as if I have a choice. My vision blurs, but I fight to stay conscious, to keep my mind clear.

The guards drag me out of the cell, my feet barely touching the ground as they haul me down the narrow corridor. The other prisoners watch through the bars of their cells, their eyes wide with fear. They don’t know what’s happening either, but they will soon enough.

Because this isn’t just about me. It’s all of us. Every single prisoner locked up in this place. I can hear the screams, the thud of more doors being thrown open, the sounds of boots marching in unison.

They’re taking us all.

The guards pull me into a large, open bay—a dropship. It’s huge, bigger than I imagined, with rows and rows of restraints, one for each of us. One hundred and eleven prisoners, sentenced to die without even knowing why.

The Descent Protocol.

Now I understand.

They’re sending us to the ground. All of us. Not in separate pods, not one by one—but together, in this dropship. We’ve all been herded here like cattle, lined up in rows, strapped into chairs. No trial, no explanation, just ripped from our cells and packed into a ship to be thrown at Earth.

The guards shove me into one of the chairs, strapping my wrists and ankles down before I can try to fight back. The metal is cold against my skin, and I can feel the hum of the ship beneath me, vibrating through the floor.

I don’t know where the others are going. I don’t know if they even understand what’s happening yet. But I do. This isn’t a rescue mission. This isn’t salvation. We’re expendable. Disposable. They’re sending us down to test the ground, to see if the Earth is livable again.

The door to the dropship closes with a loud hiss, sealing us all inside. For a moment, everything is quiet. The sound of our breathing fills the space, rapid, panicked. We all know what’s coming, but none of us can stop it.

I close my eyes, forcing myself to breathe, to focus. This isn’t the end. Not for me. They think they can send us down here to die, but I won’t let them win.

The engines hum to life, and I feel the ship begin to tremble as it prepares to launch. My heart lurches in my chest, but I keep my eyes shut, counting my breaths. One. Two. Three.

Then, with a sudden jolt, the dropship is released from *The Arcanum*. We’re falling. The pull of gravity slams into me like a punch to the gut, and I feel the weightlessness as the ship hurtles toward the planet below.

The Earth I’ve only seen in pictures. The Earth I’ve never set foot on.

We’re going back. But not to rebuild. We’re going back to die.

But not me. I refuse. I’ll survive this.

And when I do, I’ll make sure The Zenith never gets the chance to set foot on Earth again.

They think they can rise from the ashes of the old world, but this time, they’re going to burn.