Mythra Facility, Unknown Location

  The air in Mythra’s secluded facility carried an unnatural clarity, crisp and clean, as if life beyond its walls had been deliberately filtered out. Morning sunlight fractured across glass panels, scattering rainbows over the bordering greenery. It was a haven that blurred the line between nature and technology—the subtle whir of advanced machinery blended with the rustle of leaves.

  Kareem stepped onto the narrow, winding path with the enthusiasm of a man who believed he had finally arrived at the future. Dressed in a tailored jacket and dark slacks, he took in the scene, his face alight with curiosity.

  “It’s incredible,” he said, half to himself, gazing at the towering glass buildings that gleamed against the backdrop of untouched wilderness.

  Beside him, Samira walked with measured steps, her gaze more skeptical than awe-filled. She wore her usual practical attire—cargo pants and a lightweight shirt, accented by an intricately patterned scarf that defied the facility’s sterile uniformity. Her amber eyes flitted from the buildings to the people they passed, her brow furrowing slightly.

  “Sure,” she murmured. “But doesn’t it feel a little… too perfect?”

  Kareem gave her a sideways glance, amused.

  “Perfection isn’t a bad thing, Samira. This is what happens when resources and vision come together without compromise.”

  She didn’t respond immediately, her attention caught by a group of scientists walking ahead. Their movements were slightly robotic, their faces pale and distracted. One man’s hand trembled as he adjusted his tablet, and another muttered to himself, his thoughts lost to the wind.

  “Have you noticed,” she began, whispering, “how… distant they are? Last night, I tried talking to a few at dinner. They weren’t just tired; they seemed—I don’t know—off.”

  Kareem waved a dismissive hand, his smile faint but indulgent.

  “It’s the pressure. Everyone here’s working on the edge of what’s possible. That’s bound to take a toll.”

  Samira’s gaze lingered on the scientists as they disappeared into a building.

  “Or it’s something else entirely,” she murmured.

  “Doesn’t it bother you? Perfection isn’t natural.”

  Kareem chuckled, though her doubt left an uneasy ripple in his chest.

  “You’re overthinking it. Mythra is giving us the chance to change the world. Isn’t that what we always dreamed of?”

  She stopped walking, turning to face him fully. The sunlight caught the strands of her dark hair, making them shimmer like ink.

  “And what if they’re not giving us that chance? What if they’re just using us to shape a world we wouldn’t want to live in?”

  Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, Kareem couldn’t find a response. He glanced at her wrist, where the small tattoo of a lotus flower peeked out from beneath her sleeve—a symbol of growth, of rebirth. It struck him that she was rooted in questioning what others accepted.

  Finally, he sighed, shaking his head as he resumed walking.

  “Samira, if we waste time doubting every opportunity, we’ll never get anywhere. Sometimes you have to trust the vision and let it unfold.”

  She hesitated, then followed, her steps slower than his.

  “Maybe. Or maybe some visions shouldn’t unfold at all.”

  They walked in silence after that, the once-idyllic surroundings now carrying an edge of unease. Kareem’s earlier thrill dimmed, replaced by the faint, unwelcome murmur of doubt. Yet, as they neared the main lab’s entrance, he straightened his shoulders, pushing the unease aside. There was too much promise here to dwell on shadows.

  Samira hesitated, throwing one last look behind her. The facility’s paths, its too-perfect people. A quiet storm gathered in her chest. If she looked away now, she might never see the truth.

  Months Later

  The dim blue of dawn crept through the narrow slit of the window, gently coaxing Kareem out of sleep. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of air circulation. He stirred, his body heavy with sleep, until a familiar voice broke through the silence, crackling with playful urgency over the intercom.

  “Kareem, wake up. If you don’t move now, I’ll finish all the coffee myself. And trust me, you don’t want to face the day without it.”

  A groan escaped his lips as he pushed upright; a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  “Fine, fine, I’m up,” he muttered to no one in particular.

  He scrubbed away the remnants of sleep, pausing to peer out of the slit of window. The view it offered was of Mythra’s carefully cultivated wilderness. Even the morning light here was engineered, flawless.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  After a quick shower, Kareem made his way to the shared kitchen. Samira was already there, leaning casually against the counter, her dark hair loose and slightly disheveled. She cradled a steaming mug of coffee, amusement dancing across her lips as she watched him shuffle in.

  “You look like you fought your pillow and lost,” she teased, holding out another mug.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he quipped, taking the coffee gratefully. “I’ll need it.”

  Samira chuckled softly. The warmth threading through her Moroccan-French lilt seemed to soften the austere atmosphere of Mythra.

  “So,” she began, leaning in slightly, “did you hear about the new lab?”

  Kareem raised an eyebrow. “What new lab?”

  “The remote one. I heard it’s even more isolated than this place. Rumor has it, it’s so classified they barely tell the pilots where they’re going.”

  “Sounds almost romantic. Just us, a classified project, and no way to leave.”

  Kareem smirked, but the joke felt thin.

  Samira rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small laugh.

  “Don’t get any ideas. I’m here for the research, not to entertain a half-awake scientist.”

  They lingered over breakfast longer than they should have, savoring the rhythm of their banter. It was a pocket of normalcy in a place where everything felt calculated, deliberate.

  Eventually, they made their way to the helipad. The gusts from the helicopter’s rotors whipped at their clothes as they approached. Samira adjusted her scarf and exchanged a glance with Kareem.

  The pilot, a grizzled man with a weathered face, gave them a terse nod.

  “You two ready? Keep your seatbelts tight. It’s a beautiful route, but things can get… unpredictable out here.”

  As they lifted off, the sprawling facility faded beneath them, replaced by an expanse of vibrant green forest. The landscape stretched endlessly, with snow-capped mountains rising like sentinels in the distance. Rivers shimmered below, their silvery curves catching the sunlight.

  Samira leaned closer to the window, her gaze fixed on the scenery.

  “Sometimes I forget how beautiful the world is outside these walls,” she murmured, her voice soft and introspective.

  Kareem watched her, observing the rare softness in her features as she took in the view. “Beautiful,” he repeated, though his focus lingered on her rather than the scenery.

  For a brief moment, it felt as though the boundaries of Mythra—the secrets, the doubts—had melted away, leaving only the quiet beauty of the vista below. But as the helicopter pressed onward, Kareem couldn’t shake the faint unease lingering at the edges of his thoughts, a shadow cast by Samira’s earlier words.

  —the helicopter lurched, a metallic groan. The frame shuddered, twisting under unseen forces. Kareem’s stomach dropped as the once-steady drone of the engine turned into a sickening sputter.

  Samira’s eyes darted to his, wide with panic.

  “What’s happening?” she asked, her hands trembling slightly.

  The grizzled pilot cursed under his breath, his hands scrambled across the controls.

  “Engine failure. Brace yourselves—we’re going down!”

  Kareem’s grip tightened on the armrest as the helicopter pitched violently. Samira reached for his hand, her fingers trembling but firm. He clasped hers, the fear between them more potent than any words.

  “Don’t let go,” she said, the crack in her tone at odds with her steady gaze.

  “I won’t,” he managed, though the roar of the failing engine and the rush of wind silenced his words. The scenery outside the window blurred into streaks of green and blue as the ground rushed toward them. Time seemed to stretch unbearably thin, every second an eternity.

  The impact came like a thunderclap. Metal wailed and roared against the ground, and reality dissolved into chaos. Darkness swallowed Kareem whole, but the echo of Samira’s voice lingered in the void.

  “Don’t let go.”

  Kareem’s world reassembled itself in fragmented, jagged pieces. Smoke. Fire. Burning. Kareem choked—his ribs screamed. Every breath brought stabbing pain. Smoke curled around him, thick and suffocating. The flickering glow of flames cast jagged shadows over the wreckage.

  His vision swam, body screamed in protest. His right leg refused to move. Blood slicked his hands, warm and thick. Copper on his tongue. He forced himself forward. Somewhere deep in his mind, a single thought pushed through the haze:

  Samira.

  “Samira,” he croaked, barely audible above the crackling flames.

  He tried again, louder, more desperate. “Samira!”

  Dragging himself forward, he clawed through the debris. Sharp edges tore at his palms, but he tried to ignore the pain. Each movement was agony—his limbs heavy, one arm trailed uselessly—but he pressed on, driven by a raw, unrelenting fear.

  The helicopter’s skeleton lay twisted and shattered, fragments of their journey scattered like broken promises. His gaze flicked through the wreckage, searching for any sign of her. For a moment, he thought he saw her standing just beyond the flames, her figure outlined in the smoky haze. He reached out, only for the image to dissolve into empty air.

  “Samira!” he shouted again, his voice breaking. And then he saw her.

  She lay beneath the wreckage, her scarf—a splash of color now drowned in blood—fluttering weakly in the heat of the flames. Her eyes, once so full of life, stared unseeing at the sky. Her face, serene in its stillness, was a cruel mockery of the chaos surrounding them.

  “No… no, no, no,” Kareem whispered as he crawled toward her, collapsing at her side.

  His hand trembled as he reached for her, brushing against her cool skin.

  “Please, Samira… please.”

  The memories came in a flood: her laughter bouncing off the stark walls of Mythra, the quiet moments over coffee, the fleeting softness that broke through her guarded exterior. Each fragment was a dagger, twisting deeper as absence carved open the truth.

  He pressed his forehead to Samira’s, tears cutting trails through the soot on his cheeks.

  “I should’ve told you,” he rasped, the words tearing at his throat.

  “How much… how much you mean to me.”

  The confession hung in the air, unanswered.

  Something inside him shattered. A raw, broken sound clawed its way out of his throat. The flames flickered around them, a cruel contrast to the cool stillness of her body. Kareem pressed his forehead against hers, his tears mingling with the blood that stained her features.

  The light dimmed again, his grief pulling him under like a tide. And in the silence that followed, all that remained was her echo:

  “Don’t let go.”