eternally || txt

in the ruins

The smell of damp is the first thing Naia registers as she blinks her eyes open to the dark. For a moment, she thinks that she hadn't actually opened her eyes, but upon turning her vision skywards she realizes that she has, as she's greeted with light. 

She's just buried.

Not exactly buried- that's an exaggeration. Every muscle in her body aches, but besides that, she is relatively unharmed. After further inspection, Naia realizes that she's lying on her side under what seems to be debris from a broken building, with several large chunks of broken cement propped against each other to create a tent-like shape.

How convenient.

Deciding that she doesn't like the idea of being beneath a probably unstable structure, Naia lifts herself from the ground. As she scours the dark for an exit, she finds herself trying to find a viable explanation as to why she is where she is. 

But she doesn't remember.

She freezes in her step, a hand grasped on a ledge she'd found would lead her to above ground. 

Why don't I remember?

Casting the confusion aside, Naia lifts herself effortlessly, her feet finding stable debris to assist her journey to the sky. Peering above, she has to squint as the sky suddenly explodes with light before dunking back into dimness. As she gets closer to the open, another explosion of light occurs, except this time she catches the light tainted lilac, stretching through the clouds. 

Lightning.

In the back of her mind, questions materialize. Why can't she remember anything before this? Who is she? Where is her family? All that remains in her brain is her first name. 

Besides that, nothing. 

With one final push, Naia finds herself on solid ground beneath a stormy sky, the air surrounding her chilled. From here, she can't see much besides broken building and shattered glass. Somewhere in the distance, however, not too far, she sees rocks piled upon each other with a large flat piece of wall on it, like a ramp. She rushes towards it, ignoring the stiffness in her things and calves. 

Once there, she climbs, vision instantly filling with grey and brown, broken pieces of stone, some small, others big, some sharp, others round. Palms rub against gravel and her knees scrape against parts where her feet fail to keep her upright. Eventually though, she reaches the top.

And the view is devastating. 

Earlier, she'd thought that the world had been completely ruined. Her eyes told her that much. But inside, she'd hoped it wasn't so. She'd hoped that it was just her and her lack of far sight imagining things. Even though she can't remember anything of her own, she knows that the world isn't meant to look like the aftermath of a huge earthquake.

Is that what happened?

Belatedly, she realizes something else that's off. Naia snaps her head around, spinning to search around her, squinting against the lightning of the mute-thundering sky, hoping that she's wrong. 

She isn't. 

Her heart drops to the ground, and almost brings her with it. 

She tries again, scanning the ruins, focusing her sight into every nook and cranny her eye can see, but nothing. 

She's the only one here.

What the hell?

Another smell reaches her. Something slightly sour, like an amplified scent of the damp from before, but with something rotten to add to it. Her suspicion leaves a lump in her throat. 

She doesn't want to look. 

(She does).

Steeling her nerves- and stomach- Naia shifts her vision to the darkness by the edge of the makeshift platform she is on. Her combat boots crunch against the gravel with each precarious step she takes, dreading what might be below. 

Once again, she was right. 

Her eyes stay trained on the body, strewn across a pile of debris in a shape that shouldn't be possible for a human body to be bent in. As much as she tries to turn away, she can't. It's a boy who can't be much older than she is, with his eyes shut. his skin almost seems rosy, like he might still be alive, but she knows from the dipping blood that has rapidly dried on his cheeks that that is not the case. Dirt streaks his cheeks and arms, clothes torn. His skin is slightly charred. 

With that thought, she brings her sight away and settles it upon herself. Sure enough, her tanned skin is crusted with dirt, dry in some places, wet in others. Her t-shirt, whatever color it used to be, is a painting of brown and grey, and so are her black leggings. She brings her hands up to her face, and sure enough, she can imagine that her skin mirrors that of the boy, apart from the blood.

What happened?

A sudden warmth blows on her back like a gentle breeze, but she doesn't pay any attention to it. Her focus turns back to the boy, whose blond hair is highlighted with dirt. She can't seem to peel her eyes away, no matter how broken she feels for him. 

That is until the heat grows. 

It grows like a patch of sweat on her skin until it becomes overwhelming. It isn't as hot as fire, but it irritates her, and she is forced to turn.

There, stands a door. 

Naia feels the space between her brows crease.

That was not there earlier.

Curiosity overtakes her, but before moving towards the door, she takes one more look behind her. The sight of a dead boy is surely going to remain with her forever. 

Turning back, her feeling of pity morphs into that of confusion. The door, blindingly white, seems to glow from the gaps between it and the frame. 

The frame that is just standing there. 

Naia circles the door, but sure enough, it's just as it is. A door. Clean and white, was definitely not there five minutes ago, and glowing. But it stands alone, not leading to anywhere but the other side of the cement platform.

Unless.

Naia doesn't believe her final suspicion, can't believe it. That the door might actually lead someplace, that it isn't just... there. 

Then again, it hadn't been there six minutes ago. 

I have to be dead.

Gradually, she steps towards it. Muted thunder still claps in the grey ocean above, yet the atmosphere lacks rain. The smell of damp is there as if it had been pouring almost an hour ago, but the air remains dry. Soon, Naia is grasping the handle, hand curling around the cold gold, but not pressing down on it. 

She won't lie, she is mildly terrified. 

(Very terrified).

Once again, she swallows, steeling herself for whatever may lie ahead. 

Then, she pushes down, and forward.

And she's greeted with...

Darkness?