Record

The Blue Powder: 2

A man materialized within the crumbling confines. His silhouette fractured against the backdrop of sunlight filtering through the ravaged structure, revealing the ominous outline of a long gun detaching from his towering form. Lily's heart thundered in her ears, each beat echoing the tension coursing through her veins, as she observed his deliberate steps. Setting his gun aside, he adjusted the white cloth shrouding his face, its surface adorned with wavy lines arranged in intricate linear patterns. With measured strides, he navigated the debris-strewn landscape, drawing nearer to her secret hideaway.

In that moment, Lily wished she could retreat into darkness, wishing for oblivion to cloak her from his looming presence. Yet not even a fleeting blink escaped her before she tightly shut her lids, as a cascade of dust billowed forth from collapsing debris before her. Reacting instinctively, she raised her arms to shield her face, a mere eye's width separating her from the stranger who now stood before her, his gaze fixed in bewildered curiosity.

They exchanged glances for several moments before he asked, "What are you doing here? Are you lost?"

Lily stood frozen, unable to find her voice to respond.

He continued, "You're not supposed to be here. Go home, kid."

She nodded, her eyes darting to his right hand, where an old burn shaped like a five-petaled flower coiled around his forearm.

As soon as he turned his back, her legs propelled her outside, sprinting back home with only one thought consuming her mind:

She had just encountered one of the.. South Winds.

***

She reached her neighborhood; a subtle but distinct shift in the atmosphere was noticeable. The familiar graphics that adorned the walls, once mere background scenery to her daily walks, now seemed to take on a new significance. 

Everywhere she looked, anti-South Winds graffiti caught her eye—logos crossed out, wavy lines patterns accompanied by insulting words, and an unmistakable undercurrent of rage and hatred towards them. While she had been aware of this sentiment before, she had never truly paid it much mind. But now, as she walked through her neighborhood, the intensity of the animosity directed towards them couldn't be ignored.

Memories of conversations between the workers she toiled alongside on the shelters flooded her mind, recalling tales of the South Winds taking over places, evicting residents from their makeshift abodes, and covertly transforming the spaces into clandestine strongholds. Their discussions often delved into the striking resemblance of the South Winds' tactics to those of Elysian, the enemy that had overrun half of the neighboring regions—an observation that resonated deeply with Lily, leaving an indelible impression on her mind.

***

The next day’s work wound down. Clara surveyed the half-rebuilt shelter, her eyes sharp as she gave last-minute orders to the crew packing up for the evening. Dust swirled in the fading light, and Lily, exhausted but proud, approached her with a bag in hand.

Clara looked up. "Something to add to today’s finds?"

Lily held out the worn leather bag, trying to hide a small grin. Clara’s eyes widened a bit as she opened it and pulled out the first item—a sturdy pair of binoculars, slightly scratched but still functional.

"Not bad," Clara said, squinting through the lenses. "You’ve got an eye for the unusual.”

"Thought they might be worth something,” Lily replied, trying to sound casual.

Clara set the binoculars aside and pulled out the next item: a small, cracked compass with faint markings. She studied it, brushing her thumb over the etchings with a hint of curiosity. “These old pieces always find a buyer,” she murmured, almost to herself. "Interesting."