The city at night was a maze of steel and stone, towering structures that stretched like skeletons into the clouds. Sirens were perched on every corner, their dull red lights flickering like bloodshot eyes. The curfew had long since started, and anyone caught outside without proper clearance would be detained—or worse.
But Maeve moved like a shadow through the back alleys, her dark cloak pulled tight around her shoulders, her breath hitching with every step. Old Tower 17 had been abandoned for decades, left to crumble on the outskirts of the city near the eastern wall. The Council said it was too unstable to repair, too close to the hazardous zones where the Fog encroached. No one had any business there.
That made it the perfect place for secrets.
By the time she reached the tower, the wind had picked up, carrying the distant wail of the sirens from another district. Her pulse quickened, a mixture of fear and adrenaline. What if this was a trap? What if the Resistance didn’t exist, and she was about to walk straight into the Council’s hands?
The base of the tower was dark, overgrown with twisted vines and rusting metal. The air felt thick here, as if the weight of the city's hidden history pressed down on her. She hesitated for a moment, looking over her shoulder at the empty streets. The faintest tendrils of the Fog swirled in the distance beyond the wall, barely visible in the moonlight. She shivered.
She stepped inside the broken doorway.
The interior was as ruined as the outside. Debris littered the floor, and the air smelled of mildew and decay. But there was a figure standing in the middle of the room, shrouded in darkness, their face obscured by a hood.
“Maeve Arlowe,” the figure said, their voice low, almost a whisper. “You came.”
She tightened her grip on the tablet, trying to suppress the tremor in her hands. “You’re with the Resistance?”
The figure stepped closer, and Maeve’s breath caught in her throat as the person lowered their hood. It was a woman, young, with sharp eyes and a face hardened by years of struggle. “I’m Lily,” she said. “We don’t have much time. The sirens might be listening.”
Maeve glanced around the room, but she saw no visible signs of surveillance. Still, she knew better than to trust appearances. The sirens were always listening. “What do you want from me?” Maeve asked.
Lily smiled faintly, a grim expression that didn’t reach her eyes. “Not from you. For you. I want to show you the truth.”
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YOU ARE READING
OVER THE SIRENS🌸
Science FictionIn the distant future, society is ruled by a powerful global alliance that governs the last remaining cities on Earth. The world is recovering from decades of war, climate collapse, and disease outbreaks that devastated the population. Survival is n...
