《Fate Divergent》 The Fall A void so complete it felt like I had been swallowed by the abyss itself. Then pain. A deep, rattling ache in my ribs as if I¡¯d been kicked. My head throbbed, my breath came in ragged gasps, and when I moved, my wrists caught¡ª metal... shackles... cold... damp... the kind of cold that seeps into your bones and stays there. The scent of sweat, rusted iron, and something far worse¡ªsomething rotting, something human¡ªhung in the air. It clung to my nostrils, thick and suffocating, a stench that spoke of hopelessness and decay. The floor beneath me was cold concrete, rough against my skin. Somewhere in the distance, there was a rhythmic drip of water, slow and deliberate, like a ticking clock counting down to something inevitable. A prison. I opened my eyes, blinking against the dim light filtering through rusted bars. Shadows flickered across the walls, cast by a single, flickering bulb swinging from the ceiling. My muscles ached, my thoughts sluggish, fragmented. I reached for a memory¡ªsomething, anything to explain where I was¡ªbut all I found was static. Then I heard it¡ªa groan. Not mine. I turned my head, squinting through the haze. Four others, scattered in the cell with me. Each of them bound in chains, stirring awake with the same slow, pained movements. Their faces unfamiliar, yet... something stirred in my mind, a nagging sensation at the edge of recognition. A scar on one¡¯s chin, a piercing gaze in another¡¯s eyes, a nervous twitching of fingers from a third. Like I had seen them before, but in another life. A woman to my left struggled upright, her dark hair matted with sweat. She winced, her fingers grazing a leather bracelet on her wrist as if seeking reassurance. She turned toward me, and when our eyes met, a flicker of something¡ªunderstanding?¡ªpassed between us. ¡°What the hell is going on?¡± she rasped. I opened my mouth to answer, but another voice cut through first. ¡°We¡¯re prisoners,¡± a man muttered from the far side of the cell. He sat against the wall, his long legs stretched out in front of him, shackles gleaming against his wrists. He wasn¡¯t panicked¡ªjust watching, calculating. His silver-streaked blond hair was disheveled, his prison uniform stained and tattered. ¡°And something tells me we¡¯re not supposed to leave.¡± Another groan. The youngest among us¡ªglasses cracked, hands trembling¡ªshook his head violently, as if trying to shake loose a nightmare. His breath came in short, uneven bursts, panic rising with each second. "No, no, no, this... this isn¡¯t right," he stammered, his voice breaking. "I¡ªI was in the lab, I remember¡ª" His words faltered, his eyes suddenly going wide, the color draining from his face. "I... I just... I don''t understand¡ª" The sentence collapsed into a strangled whisper as something¡ªsome terrible realization¡ªsurfaced in his mind, leaving him frozen in place. The last of us, a quiet figure hunched near the bars, didn¡¯t speak. He just watched. A sick feeling curled in my stomach. Memories came back in flashes, still disjointed, still incomplete. A lab. A test. A sense of weightlessness, of being pulled apart and reassembled. And then¡ª This. ¡°Do you remember your name?¡± I asked, my voice hoarse. The man with the piercing hazel-green eyes hesitated. Then, barely above a whisper, he exhaled. ¡°Elias.¡± A name. A thread to hold onto in the chaos. One by one, the others tried. ¡°Mara,¡± the woman muttered, rubbing at her wrists. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°Victor,¡± the man in the silver-streaked blond hair added, rolling his shoulders as if testing his restraints. The youngest swallowed hard. ¡°Simon.¡± And the last of us, the one who had been silent the whole time? He tilted his head slightly, expression unreadable. ¡°Gray.¡± Something about the way he said it made my skin crawl. Footsteps echoed beyond the bars, heavy boots marching in unison. Then came the buzz of an electrical lock disengaging. A door slammed open. A loud buzzer blared through the air, rattling through my skull like an earthquake. The clanging of metal doors followed, the sound of heavy boots marching in formation. The tension in the cell shifted instantly. Two guards appeared at the bars. Massive men, clad in dark uniforms with no insignia, their shoulders so broad they nearly filled the doorway. Their faces were like stone, cold and unreadable, devoid of anything resembling empathy. The one on the left had a jagged scar running from his temple to his jaw, a brutal reminder that violence was not new to him. The other, younger but no less imposing, flexed his fingers against the baton at his hip, as if itching for an excuse to use it. Their expressions were blank, impassive, yet there was a quiet menace in their stillness. One of them carried a clipboard and began reading in a voice devoid of emotion. ¡°Inmates 452 through 457. On your feet. NOW.¡± None of us moved at first. A breathless silence hung in the air, thick with the weight of unspoken dread. The guards exchanged a glance, a silent signal passing between them before they stepped forward in unison. The scarred one reached for Mara first, his grip like iron as he wrenched her to her feet. She staggered, biting back a cry of protest, but he only tightened his hold. The younger guard grabbed Simon, who flinched violently, his glasses slipping down his nose as he struggled against the inevitable. A sharp jerk silenced his resistance, his breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps. Gray did not resist. He stood before the guards even reached him, his chains rattling like a whisper of inevitability. Victor, however, cursed under his breath as he was yanked up, his prison uniform wrinkling as he tried to pull free, his bravado cracking at the edges. "This is a mistake," he snapped, but the guards didn¡¯t so much as flinch. The last hands were on me. The pressure sent a jolt of awareness through my body, every nerve alight with the instinct to run, to fight. But there was nowhere to go. Five of us. Together. The corridor opened into a large concrete chamber, the air thick with the scent of mildew and something metallic¡ªblood or rust, it was hard to tell. A row of high-backed chairs loomed in front of a raised platform, stark and imposing under the harsh overhead lights. The walls were bare concrete, save for deep scratches and old, dark stains that hinted at past occupants who had not fared well. Atop the platform sat a gaunt man in a stiff military uniform, his skeletal frame exaggerated by the sharp angles of his epaulets. His sunken eyes held no warmth, only cold, unyielding judgment. His expression was carved from stone, lips curled slightly in a look of absolute contempt as he surveyed us, as if we were insects crushed beneath his boot. The silence was suffocating. Somewhere in the distance, a heavy door groaned shut, sealing us in. There would be no escape. ¡°This is a trial,¡± the man declared, his voice devoid of emotion. ¡°Your crimes have been recorded and judged. You stand guilty of sedition, conspiracy against the state, inciting rebellion, unlawful dissemination of restricted knowledge, aiding and abetting fugitives, and treason.¡± The words were delivered with mechanical precision, as if he had recited them a hundred times before. He paused just long enough for the weight of the charges to settle over us like a suffocating shroud. The air in the chamber grew heavier, the distant murmurs of unseen spectators pressing in from the shadows beyond the platform. Simon let out a strangled breath. Victor, ever the businessman, straightened, a flicker of indignation flashing across his face as if he might bargain his way out. Mara¡¯s fists clenched at her sides, her jaw tightening with barely restrained fury. Gray remained still, unreadable, a statue awaiting the inevitable. And me? My pulse hammered, but my body refused to move. The judge leaned forward slightly, fingers steepled. ¡°The sentence is death.¡± The words struck like a hammer. A chill clawed down my spine. Death? Just like that? No evidence, no trial beyond this mockery? The reality of it settled in like lead in my stomach. We had no advocates, no hope of appeal. Victor took a step forward, his shackles rattling. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious. I don¡¯t even know what the hell half of those charges mean. You¡¯re making a mistake¡ª¡± The guard beside him moved faster than I expected, the butt of his rifle slamming into Victor¡¯s stomach with a sickening thud. Victor doubled over, gasping, his knees nearly buckling as he struggled to regain his breath. The judge barely acknowledged the act, his expression unmoved. ¡°The state does not make mistakes,¡± the judge intoned. ¡°Your fate is sealed.¡± A gavel slammed down. The guards moved in, their heavy boots echoing like funeral bells. Death? The No-Win Scenario The cell was colder than I remembered. Or maybe that was the fear settling into my bones, a deep, gnawing dread that wouldn''t let go. We had been thrown in here after the so-called trial¡ªa mockery of justice that lasted all of fifteen minutes¡ªafter the sentence had been passed with all the emotion of a bureaucrat stamping a meaningless form. Execution. By firing squad. At dawn. We sat in silence for a long time, the weight of those words pressing down on us like a physical force. The others were still trying to process what had happened, what was still happening. Me? I was trying to stay ahead of it. Thinking. Calculating. Searching for some way out of this, some path that didn''t end with bullets tearing through our bodies before the sun broke over the horizon. Mara was the first to break the silence, her voice low, distant. "I remember things. Things that aren''t mine." Victor scoffed, rubbing his temples like he was nursing a headache. "Tell me about it. My last body? Let''s just say he wasn''t a saint. And the things he did... they''re in here now." He tapped his temple and exhaled sharply. "Like echoes that won''t shut up." Mara turned to him, her dark eyes sharp. "What did you¡­ What did he do?" Victor hesitated. "Does it matter? He''s dead. Or maybe he never existed. Maybe I''m the one who''s dead, and this is just some twisted punishment. Or worse¡ªmaybe he''s still out there, in my body, wearing my face, doing God knows what." "It matters. Because I remember too. And I don''t like what I''m remembering." Mara crossed her arms, jaw tightening. "The person I was before this¡ªshe wasn''t just surviving. She was a bounty hunter. Tracked people down, turned them in, took the money, and never looked back. And now? I can feel her guilt, like it''s mine." She clenched her fists. "And I don''t know how to make it stop." Victor let out a bitter laugh. "Guilt? You got off easy. The last guy I was in? He didn''t just betray people. He sold them out, used them, discarded them like they were nothing. And when they finally came for him, they didn''t just drag him away. They took his family too. Hauled them into the street, made him watch while they put bullets in them one by one. And the worst part? It''s not just a memory¡ªit''s in my bones, in my breath. When I close my eyes, I don''t just see it. I feel it. Like it happened to me." Mara stepped closer, her gaze unyielding. "So what? Are we them now? Or are we still us? Because every time I close my eyes, I don''t just see what she did¡ªI feel it. Like I made those choices. Like I betrayed those people. And I don''t know if that feeling ever goes away." Victor exhaled through his nose, looking away. "I don''t know. Maybe that''s the real punishment¡ªbecoming something you swore you never would." A heavy silence settled between them. I watched, listened. Their conversation echoed something I had been afraid to admit to myself. The more we jumped, the more the pasts of the bodies we wore bled into us. Memories, instincts, emotions¡ªthey weren''t just ghosts. They were becoming part of us. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Simon sat on the floor, arms wrapped around his knees. He hadn''t spoken much since we were thrown in here. His hands twitched, fingers moving restlessly, like they needed to be fixing something¡ªanything¡ªto distract from our reality. Then, I noticed something strange. His fingers weren''t just twitching. They were moving in a controlled, repetitive motion, like tracing something unseen. The movement looked too practiced, too precise to be random¡ªjust the deliberate way his thumb and forefinger pinched and twisted, like muscle memory fighting its way to the surface. "We weren''t supposed to be here," he mumbled, his voice tight. I turned to him sharply. "What do you mean?" Simon hesitated, fingers still moving in that unconscious, practiced rhythm. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple despite the chill. "I just... I mean, none of this makes sense, right? We shouldn''t be here." His tone was off, guarded. He wasn''t outright lying, but he wasn''t telling the whole truth either. Something in his eyes¡ªa flicker of guilt, perhaps¡ªtold me there was more to the story than he was letting on. I narrowed my eyes but let it drop¡ªfor now. We had more immediate concerns. Gray was the only one who hadn''t spoken, hadn''t visibly reacted at all. He sat in the corner, watching. Just watching. His pale eyes tracked every movement in the cell with predatory focus. His fingers moved absently, rubbing against his palm, then tracing along the edge of the bench beside him. At first, I thought it was just a nervous tic, a subconscious motion to keep his hands busy. But there was something deliberate about it¡ªsomething measured. Like he was waiting. Like he was preparing. I took a slow breath, forcing my racing heart to calm. "We need a plan." Mara scoffed, turning to face me with disbelief. "A plan? You got one of those in that big brain of yours?" "We get one shot at this. The guards expect us to die quietly. We won''t give them that." Silence fell over the cell. Then, after a beat, Simon shifted uncomfortably. "I, uh... I might be able to do it." I turned to him sharply. "Do what?" "Pick the locks," he said, fingers twitching again. Mara frowned. "Since when do you know how to pick locks?" Simon opened his mouth, then closed it. His breathing hitched slightly as something surfaced. "I just... I just know." He swallowed hard, his hands clenching before relaxing again. He shook his head, muttering under his breath. "I remember him. I know why I''m here. How he''s here... none of this makes sense." "Who was he?" I asked quietly. Simon flinched. "I don''t know. Just... someone who got caught. Someone who needed to get out. I can feel it¡ªhis fear, the hunger, the cold." His fingers curled like they were grasping something invisible. "He wasn''t a thief, not at first. But when you''re starving, when the world locks you out, you learn. You learn the feel of tumblers shifting under pressure, the patience of listening for the right click. It wasn''t about stealing. It was about surviving. He had to get past doors meant to keep people like him out. And when he got caught..." "Now I''m here. Again. Stuck in another body with another life bleeding into mine." Gray had been silent the entire time, but his fingers never stopped moving, tracing small patterns over the wooden bench beneath him. Then, suddenly, he spoke. "I remember," Gray said, his voice quiet but firm. We all turned to him, the weight of his words pressing against the silence. He looked as if he was about to say more, to reveal something none of us had considered. Then, the sound of boots echoed down the corridor. Heavy, unhurried. Vanishing Point Simon worked the lock with shaking hands, his breath ragged in the darkness of the transport truck. The rest of us huddled together, barely daring to move, every jolt of the vehicle sending a fresh wave of nausea through my gut. Time was running out. The execution site was getting closer with every turn of the wheels. ¡°I¡¯ve almost got it,¡± Simon whispered, his fingers working feverishly. Sweat dripped down his temple as the tiny metal pick scraped against the mechanism. A click¡ªone cuff open. He shoved it into Mara¡¯s hands while already working on the next. The truck lurched, throwing him off balance. ¡°Damn it,¡± he hissed, regaining control. Another lock. Another. My heart pounded as I clenched my fists, watching the driver¡¯s shadow shift in the front cabin. Finally, the last cuff sprang open. Simon exhaled sharply, gripping the pick like a lifeline. "We¡¯re out." Mara grabbed my arm. ¡°This is it. We make our move now.¡± Victor flexed his hands, rubbing the circulation back into his wrists, his eyes darting toward the front of the truck. Two guards. A driver and his companion. He licked his lips. ¡°We take them out fast.¡± Gray, silent as ever, shifted slightly, preparing himself. Simon swallowed hard, nodding. We had no weapons, but we had surprise. And we had desperation. Mara gave the signal. The second the truck hit a bump, throwing us off balance, we surged forward. Simon lunged for the nearest guard, his fingers digging into the man¡¯s throat. The guard thrashed, slamming Simon¡¯s head against the metal wall, but Simon held on, gritting his teeth. Mara and I tackled the second guard, his rifle pinned between us as he tried to bring the butt of the weapon down on her head. I grabbed the barrel and wrenched it away, but the guard drove his knee into my ribs, knocking the air out of me. The truck veered violently as the driver shouted in alarm, struggling to keep control of the vehicle. Gray moved like a shadow, striking hard and fast. He elbowed the driver¡¯s companion in the throat, then twisted his arm back at an unnatural angle, forcing the man to cry out before slamming his head into the dashboard. The driver reached for his sidearm¡ª Then. Victor bolted. He shoved open the back of the truck and leapt onto the road. ¡°No!¡± I shouted, but it was too late. He was running, sprinting across the dirt road, heading for the tree line. The guard Mara and I had been fighting took advantage of the distraction. With a roar, he slammed his elbow into my temple, sending me reeling backward. Simon yelped as the guard he was grappling with reversed their positions, pinning him down with a knee. The truck swerved, knocking us off balance. A shot rang out. Fifty or so feet away from the truck, Victor staggered mid-stride. Another crack of gunfire. He collapsed. The fight inside the truck stopped. Simon, panting, his hands wrapped around the guard¡¯s throat, hesitated. Mara¡¯s fingers slackened on the rifle. Even Gray, for the first time, looked uncertain. The guards took their chance. A baton slammed into my ribs. I doubled over, gasping for air. Rough hands grabbed my arms, forcing them behind my back. Someone wrenched Simon away, throwing him hard against the side of the truck. The last thing I saw before the butt of a rifle smashed into my skull was Victor¡¯s unmoving body in the dirt.
The cold morning air bit at my skin as they marched us forward. The sky was an eerie shade of yellow-gray, heavy with clouds that seemed too thick, too unnatural. This was our one chance, and we lost it. The damp stone beneath my bare feet made me shiver, but it wasn¡¯t just the cold. It was the knowledge that this was it. The end of the line. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Mara was silent now, her jaw clenched so tight I thought she might break her own teeth. Simon was gasping for breath, muttering something under his breath¡ªpraying or bargaining, I couldn¡¯t tell which. And Gray? He stood perfectly still, his expression unreadable as ever. If he was afraid, he didn¡¯t show it. As the guards lined us against a cracked stone wall, Elias couldn''t look away. The surface was pitted and uneven, worn down not just by time, but by the lives that had ended here. In the tiny fractures of the stone, he saw remnants¡ªdark stains too deep to wash away, tiny fragments of bone embedded like whispers of the past. People had stood here, just like him, breathing their last, their entire existence reduced to these remnants. They had lived whole lives¡ªloved, feared, fought¡ªonly to become nothing more than a stain in the cracks. The weight of that truth pressed against his chest. Then¡ªhis mind fractured. Memories slammed into him like a tidal wave. A battlefield hospital. The scent of blood and antiseptic thick in the air. A general, his body torn apart by shrapnel, breathing his last. A young enemy soldier beside him, injuries bad but treatable. The choice. The outrage. The accusations of treason. And now, standing here, the final piece of that past life settled over me. Simon let out a broken sob. ¡°This is it. We¡¯re dead.¡± One of the officers barked the command. "Ready!" The squad shifted, rifles steady. "Aim!" The world slowed. Every breath, every heartbeat stretched unbearably long. Gray tilted his head slightly, his voice calm, almost intrigued. "It would seem so." Then¡ªdarkness. Gray tilted his head slightly, his voice calm, almost intrigued. "It would seem so." "Fi..." Then¡ªdarkness. A moment of weightlessness, sinking and rising at the same time. A faint hum, distant and reverberating, like a sound not meant for human ears. The air thickened, pressing against my skin, wrapping around me like invisible hands pulling me in every direction at once. My thoughts fractured, torn from my mind and scattered like dust in a hurricane. A brilliant flash behind my eyelids, searing but soundless. Colors I had no name for burst through my vision, shifting, twisting, folding in on themselves. I felt my body dissolve¡ªno, not dissolve, but unravel¡ªstretched across something vast and incomprehensible. I was falling through infinity, and at the same time, I was standing still. Then¡ªsilence. A gasp. My gasp. My lungs heaved, dragging in air like a drowning man breaking the surface. The pain was gone, but its phantom echoes lingered. My skin tingled, not quite mine, the remnants of something alien clinging to it. I stood, breathless, my pulse hammering. I let out a shaky breath, my fingers curling into fists. "Tell me someone else remembers that. The wall, the shots¡ª" I shook my head, my pulse pounding. "We were dead. Weren''t we?" Gray hesitated for the briefest moment before exhaling. "Yeah¡­ seems that way." Around me, the others stirred, coughing, groaning, their confusion mirroring my own. Every face was different, every body unfamiliar, yet somehow, I knew them. Then the air hit¡ªthick and electric, buzzing in my ears like an unspoken warning. The ground beneath me was too smooth, too artificial. My breath caught as I looked up. We weren¡¯t just anywhere. Then came the noise¡ªlow and resonant, like a distant siren buried beneath the earth. A shiver ran down my spine. The very air seemed to press against my skin, thick with unseen weight. The horizon stretched unnaturally far, as if space itself had unraveled. My stomach churned, my mind still trying to catch up with the impossible shift. Moments ago, I had stood in front of a firing squad, staring death in the face. Now, I was here¡ªwherever here was. Then I saw it. A skyline, vast and endless, flickered into view like a mirage¡ªan immense city stretching in every direction. The buildings rose impossibly high, their edges sharp and unnatural, silhouetted against a sky that pulsed faintly, like a living thing. I could only see fragments¡ªan alley disappearing into nothingness, a street twisting back on itself, lights blinking in a pattern I couldn¡¯t quite understand. My head throbbed as I tried to focus, as if the city itself resisted being fully perceived. Then, just as I tried to focus, it seemed to slip from my awareness¡ªstill there, but beyond my grasp. The buildings, the streets, the impossible skyline hadn¡¯t disappeared, but rather shifted just beyond my perception, like something seen from the corner of my eye. The more I tried to fix on it, the more elusive it became, as if the city itself refused to be truly seen. I swallowed hard. "is anyone else¡ª" "See it?" Gray finished, his voice low. "Yeah. And it''s not a trick." I turned in a slow circle, my pulse still racing. The others looked just as shaken, their breaths coming fast and shallow. My fingers twitched involuntarily, as if trying to grasp onto something solid, something real. But nothing about this place felt real. Something shifted. Not just the place¡ªreality itself.