The Circle of Ash
The transition was silent.
As the boys stepped onto the Bridge of Light, the world didn't explode or fade; it simply shifted. The air became thin and tasted of nothing—no salt, no soot, no life. For a few heart-pounding minutes, they walked across a shimmering plane of white brilliance, with a starless, infinite void stretching out above and below them.
"Keep your eyes on the City," Fox Smith commanded, his voice sounding flat and distant in the vacuum. "Don't look at the dark. Just look at the gold spires."
But as they walked, the gold spires began to flicker like a dying lightbulb. The shimmering brilliance beneath their boots turned from white to a dull, dusty brown. The blinding silence was replaced by a familiar, unwelcome sound—the dry rustle of dead leaves and the distant, rhythmic chirping of insects that sounded like a slowing heart.
A thick, grey fog rolled in, cold and damp, swallowing the Bridge of Light.
"Wait," Nathan Brooks said, his voice trembling as he reached out into the mist. "The Bridge... it’s gone."
The ground beneath them was no longer made of light. It was dirt. Cold, packed earth covered in a carpet of rotting pine needles and dead ferns. The smell hit them next—the damp, oppressive musk of wet wood and stagnant air.
The fog lifted just enough to reveal a jagged, splintered treeline. The boys stood in the wheat field, the tall stalks swaying like skeletal fingers, just outside the black stone wall and the wooden doors of the Gate of Dawn.
“We're back where we began,” Andrew Brooks said, his voice heavy with disbelief. He looked at the familiar, gnarled Arwin trees of the Katt Forest.
“What the hell?” Michael King hissed, his knuckles white as he gripped his journal. “We did all that walking... all that fighting... just to return to the start? It’s like the county is laughing at us.”
Nathan looked at the horizon, where the pale, unmoving sun sat exactly where it had when they first woke up weeks ago. “Now what, Fox? Do we teleport home? Do we just use the bracelets and end this?”
Fox Smith stood still, his eyes narrowed as he studied the Gate. The "Trial of Iron" was still fresh in his muscles, and his name felt solid in his mind, but the sight of the forest made his skin crawl.
“We could go a different route,” Fox said, his voice tight. “The road we took led us in a loop. Maybe the logic of this place changes if we break the pattern.”
Despite the dread, the tension needed a vent. Andrew kicked at a clump of dirt and looked sideways at Fox. “I know why you want to keep walking. Fox just wants to go back and see his little boyfriend in Harthpool.”
Fox’s head snapped around, his face reddening instantly. “SHUT UP, Andrew. You know I don’t swing that way.”
“Sure,” Andrew replied with a mocking grin, happy to see Fox lose his cool for once. “You seemed pretty quiet when he kissed you.”
“Maybe we should tell Amy Thompson that he has someone new,” Michael added, a mischievous glint in his eye as he joined in on the teasing. It was a piece of Taylorville—a piece of home—brought into this nightmare.
Fox groaned, throwing his hands up. “You damn well know Amy dumped me back in the sixth grade! That was years ago!”
“Dumped?” Michael yelled, laughing now. “She had to be going out with you first to dump you, Fox! She didn't even know your middle name!”
“ALL RIGHT, ENOUGH!” Nathan shouted, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. The bickering felt normal, and normal was the only thing keeping them sane. “We aren't going back to Harthpool and we aren't going back into the forest. We will head west this time and see what is that way before we head home. If the road is a circle, we’re going to find the place where the line breaks.”
Fox adjusted his pack, his face still flushed but his eyes regaining their focus. He looked toward the western horizon, where the wheat fields met a jagged line of hills they hadn't explored yet.
“West it is,” Fox muttered. “But if we see another stone village, I’m the one picking the direction next time.”
They turned their backs on the Gate of Dawn, leaving the Katt Forest behind. They began to march through the tall wheat, four boys from Illinois trying to outrun a map that refused to let them go.
As the boys stepped onto the Bridge of Light, the world didn't explode or fade; it simply shifted. The air became thin and tasted of nothing—no salt, no soot, no life. For a few heart-pounding minutes, they walked across a shimmering plane of white brilliance, with a starless, infinite void stretching out above and below them.
"Keep your eyes on the City," Fox Smith commanded, his voice sounding flat and distant in the vacuum. "Don't look at the dark. Just look at the gold spires."
But as they walked, the gold spires began to flicker like a dying lightbulb. The shimmering brilliance beneath their boots turned from white to a dull, dusty brown. The blinding silence was replaced by a familiar, unwelcome sound—the dry rustle of dead leaves and the distant, rhythmic chirping of insects that sounded like a slowing heart.
A thick, grey fog rolled in, cold and damp, swallowing the Bridge of Light.
"Wait," Nathan Brooks said, his voice trembling as he reached out into the mist. "The Bridge... it’s gone."
The ground beneath them was no longer made of light. It was dirt. Cold, packed earth covered in a carpet of rotting pine needles and dead ferns. The smell hit them next—the damp, oppressive musk of wet wood and stagnant air.
The fog lifted just enough to reveal a jagged, splintered treeline. The boys stood in the wheat field, the tall stalks swaying like skeletal fingers, just outside the black stone wall and the wooden doors of the Gate of Dawn.
“We're back where we began,” Andrew Brooks said, his voice heavy with disbelief. He looked at the familiar, gnarled Arwin trees of the Katt Forest.
“What the hell?” Michael King hissed, his knuckles white as he gripped his journal. “We did all that walking... all that fighting... just to return to the start? It’s like the county is laughing at us.”
Nathan looked at the horizon, where the pale, unmoving sun sat exactly where it had when they first woke up weeks ago. “Now what, Fox? Do we teleport home? Do we just use the bracelets and end this?”
Fox Smith stood still, his eyes narrowed as he studied the Gate. The "Trial of Iron" was still fresh in his muscles, and his name felt solid in his mind, but the sight of the forest made his skin crawl.
“We could go a different route,” Fox said, his voice tight. “The road we took led us in a loop. Maybe the logic of this place changes if we break the pattern.”
Despite the dread, the tension needed a vent. Andrew kicked at a clump of dirt and looked sideways at Fox. “I know why you want to keep walking. Fox just wants to go back and see his little boyfriend in Harthpool.”
Fox’s head snapped around, his face reddening instantly. “SHUT UP, Andrew. You know I don’t swing that way.”
“Sure,” Andrew replied with a mocking grin, happy to see Fox lose his cool for once. “You seemed pretty quiet when he kissed you.”
“Maybe we should tell Amy Thompson that he has someone new,” Michael added, a mischievous glint in his eye as he joined in on the teasing. It was a piece of Taylorville—a piece of home—brought into this nightmare.
Fox groaned, throwing his hands up. “You damn well know Amy dumped me back in the sixth grade! That was years ago!”
“Dumped?” Michael yelled, laughing now. “She had to be going out with you first to dump you, Fox! She didn't even know your middle name!”
“ALL RIGHT, ENOUGH!” Nathan shouted, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. The bickering felt normal, and normal was the only thing keeping them sane. “We aren't going back to Harthpool and we aren't going back into the forest. We will head west this time and see what is that way before we head home. If the road is a circle, we’re going to find the place where the line breaks.”
Fox adjusted his pack, his face still flushed but his eyes regaining their focus. He looked toward the western horizon, where the wheat fields met a jagged line of hills they hadn't explored yet.
“West it is,” Fox muttered. “But if we see another stone village, I’m the one picking the direction next time.”
They turned their backs on the Gate of Dawn, leaving the Katt Forest behind. They began to march through the tall wheat, four boys from Illinois trying to outrun a map that refused to let them go.