Fallen Sky

Chapter 4 - The Weight Of Leadership

**Silas’s POV**

The fire was dying down, casting faint, flickering light over the camp. The air was thick with the smell of smoke, mingled with the earthy scent of the forest. I stared at the embers, watching them glow and fade, listening to the quiet sounds of the others breathing as they slept. Most of them, anyway. A few of the younger ones were still restless, tossing and turning, no doubt haunted by the events of the last twenty-four hours.

I ran my fingers through my hair, sighing softly. This wasn’t how I imagined things going when I first thought about being on the ground. For as long as I could remember, we were told Earth was a dead planet, poisoned beyond hope. But now we were here, breathing the air, standing on the soil. And the reality of it all was starting to sink in.

We were on our own.

I glanced around the camp, taking in the faces of the kids scattered around the clearing. Some were curled up in pairs, trying to find comfort in each other’s presence. Others sat alone, staring off into the distance, lost in their own thoughts. None of them knew what to do next.

And that meant it was up to me.

It was a role I’d slipped into naturally, but that didn’t mean it was easy. Being a leader was a lot more than barking orders or making decisions. It was about knowing what everyone needed before they even asked. It was about making sure they didn’t lose hope, even when you were barely holding onto it yourself.

I’d spent most of my life looking after people, though—my younger brother, my friends back in the Arcanum. It wasn’t new, this feeling of responsibility. But this... this was different. This was survival. Life and death.

“Silas.”

I looked up, snapping out of my thoughts. It was Kira, standing a few feet away, her arms crossed over her chest. She wasn’t like the others. There was something sharper about her, more dangerous. I’d noticed it from the moment we were tossed into this situation together. She had a fire burning inside her, and it wasn’t just about surviving. She had something to prove. She had a score to settle.

“Hey,” I said, giving her a nod. “Can’t sleep?”

She shook her head. “Too much on my mind.”

I gestured for her to sit down next to me, and after a moment’s hesitation, she did. We sat in silence for a bit, the fire crackling between us. I could tell she wasn’t the kind of person who liked to talk about her feelings, but I could also tell something was eating at her.

“I’ve been thinking,” I said after a while, breaking the silence. “About what you said earlier. About The Zenith.”

She turned her head slightly, her eyes narrowing. “What about it?”

“I get it. Why you hate them. Hell, I hate them too. But down here... we’ve got a chance to start over, you know? We don’t have to do it the way they did.”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “You really believe that?”

“I do,” I said firmly. “We’re free now. We don’t have to follow their rules, or live in their shadow. This place—it’s ours.”

Kira didn’t say anything right away, but I could see the conflict in her eyes. She wanted to believe it. But something was holding her back. Something deeper.

“They killed my family,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “My brother, my parents. They executed them like they were nothing. And for what? Because of some law they made up. Because we didn’t fit their mold.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I’d heard stories about the punishments for breaking The Zenith’s laws, but hearing it firsthand was different. I could feel the weight of her pain, the anger that was driving her.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I didn’t know.”

She shrugged, but there was no real emotion behind it. “It doesn’t matter. They’re gone. And I’m going to make sure The Zenith pays for it.”

There it was again—that fire. That need for revenge. It was powerful, but it was also dangerous. I could see it consuming her, and that scared me. Because as much as I hated The Zenith, I knew that hate alone wouldn’t keep us alive down here.

“We can’t survive on anger,” I said quietly, watching her carefully. “We need each other. We need to be smart. If we let them dictate how we live, even from up there, then they’ve already won.”

Kira’s jaw tightened, her fists clenched in her lap. But she didn’t argue. She just stared at the fire, the light reflecting in her eyes.

“You’re a good leader,” she said after a long pause, catching me off guard. “The others—they look to you.”

I blinked, not sure how to respond. I wasn’t used to getting compliments like that, especially not from someone like Kira. “I don’t know about that,” I said, shrugging. “I’m just doing what needs to be done.”

“That’s exactly what makes you a leader,” she said, meeting my gaze. “You don’t hesitate. You don’t question yourself. You just act. People need that right now.”

I wasn’t sure how to take that. It was true that I’d been making decisions for the group, but I didn’t feel like a leader. I felt like a guy trying to keep a bunch of scared kids from falling apart.

“You could lead too, you know,” I said, watching her carefully. “People respect strength. They respect someone who’s willing to fight.”

She shook her head. “I’m not a leader. I’m...”

“A survivor,” I finished for her.

She nodded. “Exactly.”

We fell into silence again, the crackling of the fire filling the space between us. I knew she was right—Kira wasn’t like me. She wasn’t looking to lead anyone. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t important. If anything, she was the kind of person we needed right now. Strong, determined, unafraid to do what needed to be done.

“We’ll figure it out,” I said quietly, more to myself than to her.

Kira looked at me, her expression softer than I’d seen it before. “Yeah,” she said. “We will.”

But even as she said it, I could see the doubt lingering in her eyes. And I couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before the fire inside her burned too bright. Before it consumed her entirely.

Because down here, we didn’t just need strength. We needed hope.

And hope was something even I wasn’t sure I had anymore.