The woman spoke up. "Are you sure we've not lost our only hope? I mean we've never tried this—"
"He's dead enough," the older voice said. "The essence will preserve the body until Ramaphosa awakens. Then our world shall be rebuilt."
Your what? What the hell did they just do to me?
It's really hard to explain how fast your world can flip upside down. Five minutes ago I was just Ernesto Mela, eighteen years old, supposed to be at school in Central Mendea where things were stable and boring. Now I was apparently some kind of mystical container for the power of a god I'd never heard of, and these lunatics were planning to bury me alive.
The young guy grabbed my legs and started dragging me outside. Every rock and piece of debris scraped against my back as he pulled me along. The burning liquid inside me was getting worse, spreading through my chest like molten metal seeking new pathways.
Can't you fools carry a "dead" boy properly? I mean, I'm not that heavy.
They dragged me about fifty meters from the church before dropping me next to what looked like a hastily dug hole. The sun was setting, painting the sky the color of blood and ash. In the distance, I could still hear gunfire and explosions, but they seemed farther away now.
"Quickly," the older voice said. "The government sweep will reach this sector soon."
They started digging deeper, and I lay there thinking, Today is my last day.
The next thing I knew, I was being thrown four feet down into the pit. The impact drove the air from my lungs, and for a moment I thought I really was going to die. Then soil started raining down on me.
"The power of Ramaphosa will be preserved in that body," the older voice said as they piled dirt on top of me. "We'll come back for it when the time is right."
Perfect. Just perfect. I was going to die because I'd escaped from school to find a girl I'd talked to twice through a fence. What a way to go.
The dirt was heavy on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I could feel it filling my mouth, my nose, getting into my eyes. The burning sensation from whatever they'd poured into me was spreading, reaching my fingertips, my toes, the top of my skull. This is it. This is how I die.
But as the minutes passed underground, something strange started happening. The burning wasn't killing me—it was changing me. I could feel my heart slowing, then stopping, then starting again with a rhythm that wasn't quite human. My vision sharpened even in the absolute darkness of the grave. And the hunger... God, the hunger was incredible. Not for food. For something else entirely.
I don't know how long I was down there. Could have been twenty minutes, could have been hours. Time felt different, like I was experiencing it from underwater. Then my eyes opened—really opened—and they were glowing.
Golden light poured out of me, illuminating the dirt walls of my makeshift grave. I could see every grain of sand, every root, every worm. The light was coming from my veins too, tracing bright pathways under my skin like I was some kind of human circuit board.
The power built up inside me, pressure looking for release. I didn't know what it was or how to control it, but I knew I had to let it out or it would tear me apart. What is happening to me?
I opened my mouth to scream, and instead of sound, pure energy erupted from me. It blasted outward in all directions, turning the dirt above me into dust and debris. The force lifted me up and out of the grave like I was riding an invisible geyser.
I landed hard on solid ground, coughing and spitting dirt. My whole body was shaking, not from cold but from the aftershock of whatever had just happened. The golden light was fading now, sinking back into my skin until I looked almost normal again. Almost.
I crawled to the edge of the pit and looked down. It was deep—deeper than I remembered—and the walls were glass-smooth, like they'd been melted by incredible heat. Did I do that?
I stood up on shaking legs and looked around. The cradlewalkers were long gone. In the distance, I could see the lights of Central Mendea, impossibly far away but crystal clear, like I was looking through a telescope.
That's when I realized I could see everything. The school dormitory where I was supposed to be. The guard towers along the border. Individual people walking the streets kilometers away. My vision had become something superhuman.
But more than that, I could feel the distance between me and my school like a physical thing. It was calling to me, pulling at something deep in my chest.
I want to go home. The thought was simple, desperate. I was covered in dirt, I didn't understand what was happening to me, and I just wanted to be somewhere safe and familiar. Then I was.
No flash of light, no tunnel, no dramatic special effects. One moment I was standing in the ruins of the East, the next I was in my dormitory room, dirt falling off my clothes onto the clean floor.
My knees buckled, and I had to lean against the bunk bed. My head was spinning like I'd just run a marathon in reverse. This wasn't normal. This wasn't anything close to normal. Was this a dream?
I stood there in the empty dormitory, staring at my hands. They looked normal now, but I could still feel something different coursing through me—like electricity running just under my skin. The hunger was still there too, gnawing at my stomach, but it wasn't for food. It was for something I couldn't name.
I walked to the mirror and saw myself covered in dirt, my blue hair a mess, but my eyes... my eyes had this faint golden flicker that definitely wasn't there before.
What the hell did those stupid cradlewalkers do to me? And who is Ramafooo—?
I probably should have just stayed in Central and written Maureen a letter. But then again, who was going to deliver it anyway?
What am I now?