Chapter 4 - Aeval

The moon hung low, casting silver slivers through the dense canopy of the city’s hidden gardens. Aeval moved like a ghost, her teal cloak blending with the shifting shadows of ivy-covered walls. The scent of damp earth and crushed leaves filled the air, a stark contrast to the sterile, lifeless city beyond. Here, in the forgotten corners of the world, she still had some semblance of freedom.

A faint rustling signaled the arrival of her contact. From the darkness emerged a young woman, no older than twenty, eyes wide with fear. Aeval stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Breathe,” she whispered. “You are safe here.”

The woman trembled but nodded. “They took my father,” she choked out. “Said he was spreading sedition. He only spoke the truth!”

Aeval’s jaw clenched. Another life stolen by the elite. Another voice silenced.

She reached into the folds of her cloak, retrieving a small vial filled with a shimmering, amber liquid. “Take this. It will keep you strong, steady your nerves. You will need it in the days to come.”

The woman took it with shaking hands. “How do you know all this?” she asked.

Aeval smiled sadly. “Because I have lived it.”

The wind carried the distant sounds of patrols, the rhythmic stomp of boots growing closer. Time was slipping away.

“You must go now,” Aeval urged. “Find your brother and tell him what happened. Do not return to the house. They will be watching.”

As the woman disappeared into the night, Aeval turned, her heart steady but heavy. She knew what was coming. The whispers in the city had grown louder, and the elite were growing impatient. 

 A Mother's Farewell

Aeval walked through the dimly lit streets, her cloak drawn tightly around her shoulders. The weight of the night pressed upon her, but she had one last stop to make before her fate was sealed.

She slipped into a safehouse hidden beneath the underground transit system. The hum of electricity buzzed softly from a single overhead light, casting long shadows against the exposed steel walls.

Her son looked up as she entered, his sharp eyes mirroring her own.

“Mother,” he said, his voice laced with quiet worry. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Aeval stepped forward, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I had to see you,” she said. “I may not get another chance.”

Her son, strong and unwavering, clenched his jaw. “They’re coming for you,” he said. “I heard the chatter. They mean to make an example of you.”

She smiled, pride swelling in her chest. “They will try,” she admitted. “But my fight is not over, and neither is yours.”

He exhaled slowly, then pressed something into her palm—a small, finely crafted blade. Its edge glowed faintly, and the oak hilt bore their family crest, burned deep into the wood.

Aeval ran her fingers over the crest, tracing its worn grooves. The blade had belonged to her father, once a revolutionary in his own right. Before he had been taken, before the world had lost its sense of freedom, he had carried it—a symbol of resistance, of defiance against those who sought to chain the truth.

Aeval tightened her grip around the hilt, the weight of it more than just metal and wood—it was legacy. The revolution had never been about one person, and though they would try to silence her, they could never silence the cause.

“Take this,” he said. “And when the time comes, make sure they remember who we are.”

Aeval met his gaze, her heart aching with the knowledge that this would be their last moment together—for now.

“Be strong,” she whispered. “The world still needs you.”

With one last lingering look, she slipped back into the shadows, ready to meet her fate.

Betrayal in the Neon City

The sirens howled through the night, red and blue strobes slicing through the rain-soaked streets. The city was awake now—hunting her. Aeval pressed herself into the shadows of a crumbling alleyway, her breath steady despite the pounding of her heart.

The mayor should have been dead by now. The poison had been precise, a mixture of toxins from her own garden, impossible to trace and engineered to leave no struggle. It had taken months to prepare, to infiltrate the elite’s impenetrable walls and deliver the vial to his glass of imported whiskey. Yet, somehow, he had lived. And she knew why.

He had stopped it.

The man she had once trusted. The man she had once loved.

Memories of him flashed in her mind—their whispered conversations in the quiet corners of the underground rebellion, the way he had fought beside her, his convictions unshakable. They had built dreams together, spoken of tearing down the elite’s iron grip with nothing but truth and defiance. His heart had once beat in harmony with hers. But ambition had whispered in his ear, and he had listened.

She had seen the broadcast. He was there, standing beside the mayor as he declared the attempt on his life a failure, promising swift and merciless justice for those who had dared to oppose the order. His face was unreadable, his voice as sharp and commanding as she remembered—but she saw the betrayal in his eyes.

And now, the Enforcers—the cybernetic police force that served only the elite—were closing in. They didn’t protect the people. They were hounds, hunting rebels, suppressing uprisings, ensuring the world remained in chains.

Aeval pulled her hood lower and moved, slipping between the labyrinth of steel and neon, past flickering holographic advertisements that spewed empty promises of peace. She needed to get out of the city. There were still people who would help her, but she couldn’t afford another mistake.

A drone hovered overhead, its mechanical eye scanning for heat signatures. Aeval ducked under a rusted fire escape, her grip tightening around the hilt of her father’s blade. They would not take her alive.

The city had betrayed her. The man she had loved had betrayed her.

But she would not fall so easily. This fight wasn’t over yet.

The Arrest

                She returned to the garden, slipping past rusted gates and overgrown hedges, where she had met the frightened young woman earlier. But this time, another figure stood waiting. Broad-shouldered, tense, a scar cutting across his brow—Bwompy. The woman's brother.

“Where are Spoon and Hydro?” Aeval asked, scanning the dimly lit garden.

“I’m not sure, we split up.” Bwompy’s voice was gruff, his frustration barely contained. “They headed towards the industrial district. I came back here to find you. That asshole betrayed us... if I get my hands on him—” He clenched his fists but stopped short when he saw the pain in Aeval’s eyes. With a heavy sigh, he muttered, “Sorry.” Then, shaking off his anger, he straightened. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Just then, a sharp, mechanical whizzing filled the air. A drone dropped in from above, its red eye locking onto them. A shrill alarm blared, alerting the Enforcers.

“RUN!” Aeval yelled.

They bolted through the tangled pathways, darting through the ruins of the once-hidden sanctuary, but the screech of vehicles filled the streets ahead. Black, armored transports skidded to a stop, doors sliding open as Enforcers leaped out, weapons drawn.

“Shit,” Bwompy growled, fists clenched.

Before Aeval could stop him, he charged. He was fast, brutal—elbowing one guard, grabbing another by the collar and slamming him into a wall. But there were too many. They swarmed him, electrified batons cracking against his body, dropping him to the ground in a heap.

Aeval moved with precision, flipping over one of the Enforcer vehicles, dodging the barrage of bullets that sparked off the pavement behind her. A blur of motion, she twisted mid-air, using the hilt of her father’s blade to strike a guard across the temple before hitting the ground running.

She was almost free.

She rounded the corner of an alleyway— BZZZT!

A blinding white light hit her square in the face.

Agony surged through her skull as a stun baton connected. Her vision exploded in a burst of color before plunging into darkness. The last thing she heard was the distant, muffled sound of Bwompy’s furious shouts before her world went completely black.