A cold breath of night brushed her cheeks as her eyes fluttered open, greeted by a vast dome of stars—so many that it almost frightened her. They burned fiercely, brighter and denser than she'd ever seen.
The grass beneath her was damp and soft, cradling her like a memory. She lay still, listening to her heartbeat thrum against the hush of the field, the blades whispering secrets in the wind.
Above, the night stretched forever, a sea of lights so close she felt she could lift her hand and gather them by the handful.
———
Beneath the blue sky of Eucadia, beside the great lake Valentina. Two teenagers, both looking like a mess, were skipping stones. One got bored quickly and lay down early on a boulder.
The other picked up a smooth, flat stone and flicked it with a lazy wrist.
It danced across the water, skipping four times, each landing a soft splash— one, two, three, four splashes — before vanishing beneath the surface.
Their lives were truly uneventful—so uneventful that the one resting made an outrageous proposal.
"Yo."
"Hm?"
"Wanna cook some drugs?"
"No."
———
On their way back to town through the jungle trails, the taller boy swung his arms carelessly, while the shorter one carried a gloomier air.
"Where'd you even learn about that?" asked the taller boy, Wilhelm Grimmer.
"Grandpa's books," answered the shorter, blonde-haired Thomas Soon.
Warm sunlight pierced through the green canopy, landing on their skin in thin beams. Birds chirped, cicadas sang, and a soft breeze rustled their curly hair, but he wasn't content.
"I wanna do something more than just mining, trading, drinking, eating, and shitting, man," Thomas ranted.
"What's the deal with the drugs?"
"Apparently, they cure diseases. But they also cause this thing called addiction. It means everyone who tries it once gets hooked forever."
"Why do you wanna cook that? No one's sick." Wilhelm kicked at a branch for no other reason than because he could.
"Because, Will—if you'd been paying attention—drugs are perfect to keep traders coming back."
"Hm?"
"Think about it!" Thomas lit up, his gloom gone. A curious, energetic teen with a grin spread across his face. "One try and they're hooked. They'll want more and more because they can't help it!"
"Because of that 'addiction' thing you said?"
"Yes! That's an instant, permanent trading partner!"
"Wait." Wilhelm stopped in his tracks and turned to Thomas. "So this thing cures diseases, but somehow everyone who takes it needs to keep taking it forever. So… is the disease ever cured if they're hooked for life?"
"I don't know, man! It's just what I read in the book. You can't even read, so you have no right to judge me."
"Alright… fair." They kept walking. "Wanna crash at Phil's?"
"Yeah, sure. Got nothing better to do anyway."
"nOtHinG bEttEr tO Do," Wilhelm mocked, pitching his voice high. "Yeah right, you just wanna sit on your ass instead of hauling it to the mines."
"Oh, I'll kill you, man."
———
Phil—Philip Wellington's place—was a farm. A humble wooden hut with a spacious porch, facing a beautiful golden cropland that stretched as far as the eye could see.
Philip Wellington, an old man pushing seventy, sat relaxed on a rocking chair, eyes closed.
"Phil!" Woken by a familiar young voice, Philip opened his eyes and watched from the porch as the two boys made their way through the fields, waving with wide grins.
"What are you two doing here?" he asked with a warm smile.
"Mom's out alone. She still won't let me hunt by myself, so I've got nothing to do," Wilhelm said.
"And I'm guessing Tommy just doesn't want to work even though he can," Philip added.
Thomas scowled at that remark. It had become a running joke how much he avoided work.
"See? Even Phil says you should get your ass back in the mines. I'm making tea." Wilhelm stepped into the hut as if it were his own home. Thomas made himself comfortable too, taking Philip's rocking chair the moment he got up.
"I'm bored, Phil. And no—I'm not fuckin' working. They left enough for me to survive three lifetimes anyway."
"That's only if you grow up single and have no one to provide for."
"You did that. You're doing fine, so I'll do the same."
Philip sighed, leaning against a porch pillar, hands in his pockets. "How's your grandma holding up?"
"Expecting to pass."
"So… doing well then."
"Yeah, but… she's been coughing a lot more lately." Thomas tugged at his hair, clearly uneasy.
"She'll be fine. She's been expecting to pass since last year anyway."
Thomas chuckled dryly, but the laugh never reached his eyes. His grandma's condition was starting to weigh on him.
"Tommy." Philip's tone turned serious. Thomas looked up. "This might be an uncomfortable thing to bring up, but I think it's necessary."
"Go on, then."
Philip's face grew stern. "In the near future, if she passes… Will's too busy hunting to provide for his family, Tyler will be too busy mining. I might not be around long either—my back hurts more every day, to be honest. When that happens… don't you think you'll just feel even more bored?"
The future—a thought Thomas hated. He grimaced at the word alone. His future sounded horrible. His parents left him a fortune, yet his life felt so bland. So empty.
"I guess…"
"You should find someone. Or something," Philip said gently. He spoke as an elder who truly cared for the boy. "A purpose in life. Something that drives you. A motivation—"
"I smell work. Fuck no," Thomas interrupted, shutting it down before Philip could finish.
"Tommy…"
"Come on, Phil. There's gotta be something else out there. I don't want to spend my days doing the same thing forever."
"He wants to cook drugs," Wilhelm said, stepping back onto the porch with three cups of tea. "Some fantasy nonsense he read in those old books."
"It's not fantasy."
"I don't know, Tommy," Philip chuckled. "Sounds pretty made-up. Last time you were telling us about people fighting over putting a ball in a basket."
"Okay, that one does sound absurd," Thomas admitted. "But this one sounded real! You'd know if you read the book."
"All you do is read. No wonder you're bored out of your mind," Wilhelm teased, handing Thomas a cup of tea before giving one to Philip.
"Oh, shut up. All you do is hunt."
"And it's fun! Every hunt's more thrilling than the last—especially with my mom. You have no idea how far behind I still am compared to her. She's too skilled. There's always more to learn—tracking beasts, tackling dangerous terrain—"
"Okay, man." Thomas cut him off with a dry reply.
"Tommy," Philip said, "seriously—think about your future. Time flies."
Awkward silence followed. Thomas stared at his reflection on the rippling tea.
"Damn," Wilhelm said suddenly, dragging a small table over. "What's with these serious vibes? Come on, let's play cards."
They played cards and chatted away the afternoon. Eventually, Wilhelm left to hunt with his mother. Before Thomas left too, Philip gave him one last reminder.
"Tommy—find your purpose."
"Any more serious talk and I might just scream."
Philip laughed. "Alright, alright. Take care."
Thomas stepped into the tall golden wheatfield, the crops brushing his chest as he muttered, "My purpose… huh?"