Divine Singularity || Reader x Murder Drones

VIII

Sneaking out to wander the woods wasn't exactly the greatest idea Tessa Elliot had ever had. But it most certainly was one of the most interesting.

It wasn't the first time she'd been out late at night. She'd done late night runs to the dump before, though usually she had an idea of what she was looking for. Right now, she was going in blind. Tempted not by the scrap this time, but by the light she'd seen from her window.

She couldn't explain why it drew her like it did. Only that it had. And so, without a second thought, she had climbed out of her window and descended her princess rope of linens into the chilly breath of night.

Now she walked.

She held an old brass oil lamp in one hand, her other shoved into the pocket of her coat, fingers curled tightly against the cold. The lamp was one of the few tools she and J had kept hidden beneath a loose stone at the base of the garden wall—an emergency light for when they slipped out at night to scavenge in the drone dumps. It gave off little more than a warm amber flicker, just enough to push back the dark a few steps ahead of her. Certainly not ideal, but the manor lacked any flashlights (for some reason) so it would have to do.

The flame danced with every step she took, casting long, shaky shadows through the skeletal trees that surrounded her. Every now and then, the glass of the lamp fogged slightly, catching the ghost of her breath and warping the shapes around her. The forest stretched on in every direction—an ink wash of black and grey and deeper black—and something about it tonight felt off. Not dangerous, per se. Just... wrong.

...It was too quiet.

Usually, this time of night came alive with the low croaks of cane toads, the high chirps of bats wheeling overhead, and the incessant whining of mozzies trying to suck her blood. But tonight? Nothing. No rustle of leaves, no distant flutter of wings, no chirp, no buzz. Even the wind seemed to tiptoe through the trees, only blowing against her for brief moments at a time.

She glanced over her shoulder.

Nothing.

Still, her feet kept moving, crunching over dead leaves and snapping twigs with every cautious step. Her heartbeat ticked in time with each one—steady, but alert. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice that sounded suspiciously like J's warned her this was a bad idea. That she should turn around. That the forest was never supposed to be this still.

She shook the thought away.

"I'm not afraid," she whispered to no one. To herself. To the dark.

She couldn't be. Not now. She'd come too far, and besides... she had to see for herself.

The forest around her had begun to change subtly as she pressed forward. The trees grew thinner. The earth beneath her boots became harder, drier, scattered with gravel and the soft groan of something metallic shifting beneath the soil. The scent changed, too—woodsmoke fading into rust, earth turning to oil.

She was getting close.

The dump was ahead, just past the final line of trees. The purple light she'd seen earlier had gotten ever more brighter. It leaked over the landscape in ripples of magenta and violet, bending shadows into unfamiliar shapes and casting eerie highlights against mounds of discarded drone parts. Tessa's breath caught in her throat.

She didn't know what she was expecting, but it wasn't this.

Ash coated the nearest husks like black snow. Some of the ground looked scorched, the soil split open into charred cracks and dried veins. And the air—thick with smoke—choked her whenever she tried to take a breath.