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By nightfall, the holding room no longer felt like a place of waiting, it felt like a place of mourning. Stripped of their memories, people clutched what little the Council had allowed them to keep, hands restless, fingers tracing the shapes of loss. The guards carried the bins out of the room, the officer right behind them. The door clicked shut as the sound  echoed throughout the room. Cora watched a man sit on the edge of his cot, staring at his empty hands as if something might reappear there if he waited long enough. Across the room, the young couple had finally separated, one wrapped in a blanket, the other staring at the floor. Their fingers no longer interlaced. The silence was thick, broken only by the soft rustle of issued fabric and the occasional sob. No one spoke about what they had given up. Words felt too small for it.

Cora sat on her cot with Jack curled between her legs, his small body warm against her, his head resting on her lap. Her hand moved slowly along his back, a steady rhythm meant more for her than him. She leaned her head against the cold concrete wall, eyes drifting over the room.This moment should feel better, she thought. Happy. Her eyes looked around the room, it was anything but happy. As the lights above them dimmed, those still standing retreated to their small, designated spaces. Cora pulled the blanket over herself and Jack. He fell asleep almost instantly, trusting as only a child could. Sleep, however, hovered just out of reach for her. She listened to the quiet chorus of breathing, to whispered regrets murmured into fabric, to the low, unceasing hum of the facility that never slept. She memorized the rise and fall of Jack’s chest, counting each breath, until exhaustion finally claimed her.

Morning arrived without sunrise. The lights rose to a much brighter tone. The doors slid open with practiced efficiency. The same officer that appeared last night entered, two guards following behind her. 

[I]“May I have your attention,”[/I] she said, her voice calm, rehearsed to perfection. [I]“We will be leaving the holding room shortly and escorting you to the gateway. There, you will begin your journey—the journey you were chosen for. A chance to give humanity a future.”[/I] She paused, letting the words settle.[I]“Please line up along the far wall. Take all approved items with you. You will not be returning here.”[/I]

Cora gently shook Jack awake as a nervous energy rippled through the group. Hope—fragile and uncertain—had finally found its way in. She helped him slip on his backpack and boots, brushing sleep from his eyes with her thumbs before kissing his forehead. Slinging her own pack over her shoulder, she lifted him into her arms and joined the line, standing just behind the young couple, whose hands had instinctively found their way back to each other.

The corridor stretched long and narrow, windowless, the air growing colder with every step. With each step, Cora felt something shift deep in her chest—not fear exactly, but the sharp awareness that there would be no return. No undoing this. Her lips curved into a faint smile at the thought of beginning again. A new life, untouched by the ruins they were leaving behind. Two guards stood at the corridor’s end, blocking the way forward. In perfect synchronization, they stepped aside and opened the doors.
The group shuffled into the chamber. Cora, like everyone else, stopped.

It hung in the center of the room—a vertical wound in the world itself. Light bent unnaturally around it, colors warping and twisting at its edges. Its surface rippled, folding in on itself like something alive and restless. It didn’t look stable. It didn’t look safe.

Jack stirred uncomfortably. Cora tightened her grip around him. [color=4390DA] “It’s okay,”[/color] she whispered, forcing steadiness into her voice. [color=4390DA] “Be brave. Like I showed you.”[/color]

The officer’s voice carried across the chamber, calm and unwavering.[I] “You will experience disorientation. Temperature fluctuation. A sensation of compression or falling. This is normal. Do not resist. Keep moving forward. Good luck.” [/I]

One by one, the guards ushered people toward the Tear. Some stepped through without hesitation. Others paused, terror written plainly on their faces—yet even they moved forward, driven by the promise of something better waiting beyond. Eventually, it was her turn. Cora held Jack close, staring into the shifting void. We already left everything, she thought. This is just the last step.

She stepped forward.

Pressure closed in from every direction, as though reality itself were folding them inward. Sound vanished, replaced by a deep, vibrating hum she felt in her bones. Jack cried out once, startled, and she pulled him into her chest, bracing her body around his, desperate to shield him from whatever force was tearing at them. For a heartbeat that stretched into eternity, she was certain she had made a terrible mistake. Then Jack’s fingers clenched tightly in her shirt and she held onto that single truth as the Tear pulled them through and released them.

Cora hit the ground hard, her body instinctively curling around Jack beneath her. Her head swam, vision blurred, the world spinning. Around them, voices rose in confusion and disbelief. She steadied herself, breath catching as her hand sank into something soft.

Grass.

She pushed herself upright onto her knees and pulled Jack close just as she realized he was staring upward, utterly transfixed.

[I]“Is that the sky, Momma?”[/I] he whispered.

Cora followed his gaze.

And for the first time in her life, she saw blue.
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