Before the Last Light Fades

The sky hung heavy with smoke, the distant cries of the oppressed swallowed by the towering buildings of a city once free. A mother and daughter weaved through the shadows, their breath shallow, their hands concealed beneath tattered gloves.

Vale gripped Iris’s tiny hand as they maneuvered through the ruins of their former home, each step a calculated whisper in the night. The Iron Thorn’s brand was the mark of submission or death. And they would take neither.

The air carried the scent of decay, a putrid reminder of the regime’s cruelty. People slithered through the alleyways, gaunt faces avoiding eye contact, knowing that even a glance could spell their doom. The regime’s soldiers patrolled the streets like reapers clad in black, their glowing red eyes piercing through the darkness; hunting those who dared remain unmarked.

The execution of Vale’s husband, Iris’s father, still burned in their minds. The smell of charred flesh haunted their nostrils. The crackling flames, the mocking laughter of the soldiers, the silence of the crowd, it all replayed in their nightmares. They had to keep moving, had to survive, had to evade the fate that had claimed him.

Tonight was another night of scavenging. A half-crumbled restaurant stood at the corner of a ruined boulevard, its once vibrant walls now covered in soot and graffiti. Vale pulled Iris inside, keeping close to the walls. The scent of rotting food and stale air filled their lungs. The mother worked quickly, rifling through drawers, picking out anything edible, while Iris stood guard near the entrance.

A sound. Boots against concrete. Vale stiffened, signaling for Iris to stay silent. Soldiers.

Their red eyes glowed from the entrance as they fanned into the restaurant, their movements calculated, methodical. They began inspecting hands, searching for those unmarked by The Iron Thorn.

Vale pulled Iris back, creeping toward a darkened hallway. A misplaced step, a brush against cold metal fork clattered to the floor. The sharp clang cut through the silence like a gunshot.

Heads turned. Red eyes locked onto them.

Vale wasted no time. She yanked Iris’s wrist and ran, her heart hammering in her chest. They pushed through a door, locking it behind them. A window. Their only escape.

“Go!” Vale hoisted Iris up as the door behind them rattled. The girl scrambled through, dropping onto the cold alley below. The door splintered.

Vale lunged through just as the soldiers burst inside. Shouts erupted, radio static crackling to life. Lights flickered on across the street as people stirred. Gunfire roared.

A searing pain tore through Vale’s leg as she shoved the door of a rundown building open. She collapsed onto the floor, biting back a scream. Blood pooled beneath her as she dragged herself into the shadows, Iris clutching her arm, tears welling in her terrified eyes.

Vale took her daughter’s face in her hands. “Listen to me. You have to hide.”

“No, Mom—”

“Please, Iris.” Vale’s voice cracked. “Stay hidden. No matter what happens.”

With trembling hands, she guided Iris into a closet, barely illuminated by the moonlight streaming through a broken window. Iris clamped her hands over her mouth to stifle her sobs.

The boots arrived. Heavy. Unyielding. A soldier stepped into the room, scanning the darkness. Vale lay in wait. When the first soldier stepped through, she struck, sending him to the ground. But there were more. Too many. A rifle butt slammed into her face, and she tasted blood. Her vision blurred. The room spun. More boots. More fists. She barely registered her own teeth breaking as she hit the ground.

Through swollen eyes, Vale turned ever so slightly toward the closet—toward Iris. A soldier noticed. He stepped toward the door.

The closet burst open.

Iris flew forward, her father’s pocketknife in her tiny hand. She plunged it into the soldier’s thigh. A scream. A gunshot missed its target as the soldier reeled back. But then a massive hand swung, sending Iris crashing into the wall.

“No! No!” Vale’s voice was hoarse, raw with anguish. She tried to crawl forward to Iris, but a boot slammed down on her spine, pressing her into the filth-ridden floor. A soldier began inspecting their hands for the mark of The Iron Thorn; But there was no mark. A soldier crouched beside her, those glowing red eyes consuming her vision.

“We have plans for you.”

Darkness swallowed her whole.

Days passed in black silence, interrupted only by the sound of rats skittering across damp stone. The air was thick with rot. Vale and Iris were dragged from their cell, their chains clinking, their bodies weak.

The execution grounds reeked of gasoline and old death. The earth beneath them was blackened, littered with ash. The crowd gathered, silent, afraid.

Vale pulled Iris close, pressing a kiss on her forehead.

“I love you, Iris.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

Tears streaked down their faces. Their fingers entwined.

The soldiers poured gasoline over them, the cold liquid seeping into their clothes, filling their nostrils with its acrid scent. The crowd watched in silence, some with vacant stares, others with barely concealed horror.

One soldier stepped forward, a Molotov in hand, his voice a cruel mockery. “I love you too.” Laughter erupted behind him.

The glass shattered. Chaos exploded.

Flames roared, but not from the Molotov. It came from the sky, from behind the buildings—rebels. Gunfire cracked through the air. The soldiers scattered, scrambling to defend against an unseen enemy. The crowd erupted, some running, some standing frozen in place.

Vale, weak but driven by desperation, tore at the chains. A stray bullet shattered the lock. She ripped her bindings free, grabbed Iris, and ran.

Through the chaos, they stumbled into an alley, their lungs burning, their limbs barely obeying their commands. The city screamed behind them, but for now, they were free.

Vale collapsed against a wall, cradling Iris against her chest, her fingers running through the girl's tangled hair. The child trembled, clutching her mother’s torn cloak.

“We’re okay,” Vale whispered, her voice cracked and fragile. “We’re okay.”

Iris buried her face into her mother’s shoulder, sobs wracking her tiny frame. “I thought we were going to die.”

Vale held her tighter, pressing a kiss against her head, rocking her gently. “Not today, my love. Not today.”

The night still loomed, the regime still reigned, but for this fleeting moment, they had each other. And that was enough.