The sky was burning.
Not red, not orange, but the sick, molten color of a world coming apart.
Honestly... No one really believes the end is near, until the ashes choke their lungs.
Sirens howled across the city, their pitch so high they seemed to rattle inside the small child's chest. Every pulse of the alarm was matched by the thud of boots and shoes on the cracked pavement, a current of bodies sweeping toward the launch terminal.
The child sat close to his mother on a bench outside the terminal gates. His small hands clutched the strap of his bag, eyes darting between the towering ORIZN soldiers and the endless crowd. His mother's grip was warm but trembling.
One soldier in black armor passed nearby, visor glinting under the sickly sky. The boy shrank into his mother's side, heart pounding.
She crouched so they were eye level. "Hey… don't be scared," she murmured, brushing his hair back with trembling fingers. "Do you know why we're here? Why ORIZN is taking us?"
He shook his head.
A small smile tugged at her lips, though her eyes stayed sad. "Do you want to hear a story?"
The boy hesitated, then nodded.
Her voice dropped lower, almost as if she was afraid the soldiers might hear. "A long long time ago, Earth was different. The oceans were calmer, the cities alive with light, the air… breathable." She trailed off, eyes scanning the crowd for someone.
"But things started to change. Floods swallowed coastlines. Storms tore apart entire nations. The heat rose and rose until food was scarce and the ground cracked. People called it the end.
Then ORIZN came. They promised to take us to a better place. A new world. They said they could save us, if we were chosen. And somehow… your father and I were chosen."
"And you." She poked the child's nose with a finger making him giggle.
Her gaze lingered on the distant black towers of the shuttle bay. "It's alright. Elyria's waiting for us."
The boy's eyes widened, but before he could ask more, a shadow fell across them. His father had returned, face tense, breath sharp.
"It's time," he said. Relief washed over his mother's face. She stood quickly, taking her childs hand.
Together, they moved with the crowd toward the terminal.
The streets smelled of scorched metal and something sour, like the air after lightning strikes. The skyline wavered in the heat, not a bird in sight. Somewhere far behind them, a loud sound of something collapsing rang through the streets.
The ship rose ahead like a fortress. ORIZN banners, white with the silver crest, hung from the walls. ORIZN would take them to a new world. Today was the day humanity was saved.
But no one was smiling.
"Boarding priority sectors A–D only." The voice over the loudspeakers was calm, mechanical. Soldiers with tinted visors and rifles lined the gates.
"Children to the left. Women in the center. Men to the right."
It was spoken like a boarding announcement. People obeyed. No one wanted to make trouble this close to salvation.
The boy moved toward the line of children. They were scanning them to detect illnesses, but it was no surprise. They were all informed only healthy people would be allowed to board for now. Blue meant you were healthy and one step closer to boarding, red? well.... you get the gist.
A soldier knelt and scanned his chest.
Beeeep.
Blue.
"This way," the soldier said, pointing to a blue coloured lane as he handed him a card with his designated seat number.
He turned back to see another child screaming as they were moved to the red line. But was snapped back to reality when the child behind him nudged him to move forward. He stepped into a blue lane. There couldn't have been more than two hundred children present, the only ones who'd survived this far. Their faces were pale, clothes worn thin from the journey. No one spoke. No one held anything. The soldiers hadn't allowed it.
He looked over his shoulder. His parents were still in their line, waiting to be scanned. His mother met his eyes and gave a small, tight smile. His father stood stiff, his gaze moving from him to the locked on the gates ahead.
The line barely moved at first. The air felt too still. A few of the younger kids shifted nervously, glancing at the guards.
At last, a voice called from the front. "Blue line. Move."
He looked back at his parents. They still weren't scanned. They stayed in their lines. His mother smiled faintly, lips moving around silent words he couldn't hear.
The blue-tagged children were led to a side corridor. The shuttle's light was pale and cold, humming overhead. The seats were too big for his legs to reach the floor.
He tried to stay calm. He told himself his parents would be right behind him.
•
On the ground
The boy's parents stood in their lines, glancing toward the gate where their child had disappeared. Other people began whispering, asking why only the children were being taken in first.
Finally, a soldier broke away from the others and approached. His uniform was different, darker plates, and the way the other guards straightened told everyone he outranked them.
He stopped in front of the waiting parents and the others who'd been left behind. His voice was calm, almost too calm for the chaos around him.
"There's been a slight change of plans," he said.
Murmurs immediately erupted through the crowd. A woman asked why the children had been taken through first. Another man demanded to know when they would board.
"Right now," the soldier replied evenly, "we can only carry a certain amount."
"That's ridiculous," the boy's father said, stepping forward. "We were chosen."
The soldier's visor turned toward him. "Everyone here was chosen," he said. "You will join the others soon."
But his words didn't settle the unease curling through the crowd.
•
In the ship.
Outside, the sky was changing. The black smudge on the horizon had grown higher than the towers. The clouds weren't clouds anymore. They moved fast. Abnormally fast.
The boy's eyes darted around the shuttle's cramped interior, soldiers filled every aisle.
'The soldiers are good. They won't hurt us.'
He told himself again and again, clinging onto every word. Any moment now, his parents would walk through those doors. Any moment…
Just then, the ship's monitors flickered to life.
MEGATSUNAMI DETECTED! IMPACT IN MINUTES!
The words blazed across every monitor, a blinding red that painted the inside of the ship in warning light.
Loud alarms erupted echoing off the metal walls. The shuttle doors slammed shut with a deep, shuddering hiss, the kind that sounded too final to undo. A tremor ran through the floor as the engines rumbled to life, their roar growing until it felt like the very air was vibrating.
Something was wrong... why were all the soldiers entering the ship?
The boy pressed his forehead to the glass, his breath clouding the view. From the window he could still see the boarding lines. His parents stood there, still waiting, confusion starting to turn into fear. Then his father's face changed. He was looking past the ship, to the horizon.
The boy followed his gaze and saw it.
A wall of black water, taller than the tallest buildings, rolling toward the shore with a sound like the earth breaking in half. People began to scatter, but there was nowhere to go. His mother turned to his father and gripped his hands like they were the only thing keeping her alive. His mother's breath caught in her throat.
"They said we had a year," she whispered.
Her husband didn't answer. He just squeezed her hands tighter, watching as the ship and countless others took off.
But then, a haunting shadow fell over them.
And the wave hit.
Buildings disappeared in a heartbeat. Cars, streets, entire cities dissolved into the pitch black water. From the ship's window, the boy watched the wave swallow his parents. He screamed, pounding on the glass just like the other children, but no one came.
The city vanished beneath the ocean. The sky turned dark.
The world ended.
And just like that, what was left of humanity began their journey to a new world. believing the terror was over, not knowing what horrors waited for them on their promised paradise.