Surviving Terra II: My Journey Through Catastrophes and Nobles

Linde continued staring out the car window as the faint hum of the engine filled the silence. The underground residential district unfolded before her eyes, a mixture of sleek, functional architecture and carefully maintained greenery that softened the otherwise industrial surroundings. Each home had a small patch of garden, a quiet reminder of life and resilience amid the city's cold metallic sprawl. The gardens weren't extravagant but practical, growing herbs, vegetables, and vibrant flowers that broke up the monotony of steel and concrete.

The car slowed as it approached a modest dwelling nestled at the end of a curved pathway lined with glowing streetlamps. Linde let out a quiet breath, her gaze lingering on the house's clean, minimalist design. Smooth concrete walls were accented with panels of brushed metal, giving it a modern but unassuming look. Climbing vines curled along the edges of a high privacy fence, and soft light from inside the home spilled onto the small, manicured garden out front. It looked the same as the last time she had visited months ago—calm, practical, and entirely unremarkable at first glance.

Yet Linde knew better. Beneath this home's surface, Elk kept her network running like clockwork. She wasn't just a provider of shelter but a quiet orchestrator of the city's unseen currents.

A small smile crept onto Linde's face as she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door. "Wake up, Sera," she said, her voice gentle as the faint scent of fresh herbs from the garden reached her. "We're here to meet someone."

Seraniti stirred, rubbing her eyes with one hand while clutching her rock tightly in the other. Drool streaked her cheek as she yawned. "Mmm… 'Kay…" she mumbled, sliding out of the seat with Linde's help.

The faint creak of the garden gate announced their arrival. Waiting near the doorway was a tall man with a calm but imposing presence. He was one of Elk's cleaners, the man Linde had called earlier. His blackened fingers and the halo made of black rain, like Linde. His sharp, angular features softened slightly as he glanced at the girl, but his attention quickly returned to Linde.

"Took you long enough," he said, his voice low and even. "Elk's been expecting you."

Linde nodded, brushing a stray strand of damp hair from her face. "Thanks for covering us," she replied. "I owe you."

The cleaner smiled faintly. "You owe Elk. I'm just doing my part."

Sera, still half-asleep, tugged at Linde's sleeve. "Is this where the nice lady lives?" she asked groggily, her gaze wandering toward the house's soft, warm light. Sera has only meet Elk two times and she would meet and get to know her even more in the coming years.

Linde gave her a small smile, kneeling to adjust the cloth around Sera's head. "Yeah, it is. But you need to behave, okay? Elk isn't someone we want to upset."

The Monsta cleaner let out a low chuckle. "She's not wrong, kid. Elk's nice, but only if you're on her good side." He gestured toward the door. "Come on. She's waiting inside."

Linde straightened, taking Sera's small hand in her own and guiding her toward the house. The soft sound of their footsteps mingled with the faint hum of the overhead lights and the gentle rustling of plants swaying in the underground breeze. As they crossed the threshold, the atmosphere shifted. The home exuded a peculiar warmth, a feeling of refuge, yet there was an undeniable aloofness woven into its essence—just like the woman who ran it.

They continued down a sleek hallway, the walls adorned with faint metallic engravings that shimmered subtly under the lighting. Each step seemed to pull them deeper into the core of the home. Finally, they emerged into an open space, a modest yet carefully arranged room that held a surprising centerpiece—a grand piano of black and white, its polished surface reflecting the faint glow of the ambient lights. Resting atop it was a crimson violin, its rich red hue eerily matching the color of Sera's hands, and leaning carefully against the piano was an antique guitar, its wood darkened with age but pristine in its craftsmanship.

Little Sera's tired eyes brightened slightly at the sight. Without hesitation, she scampered toward the instruments, her curiosity drawing her like a moth to a flame. She tugged a small, cushioned bench out from beneath the piano and climbed onto it, her movements careful but eager. Her gaze wandered over the instruments, lingering briefly on the violin before settling on the piano. Her fingers lightly brushed the smooth keys, but it wasn't the sound they made that captivated her—it was the faint, crude engraving etched into the piano's surface.

The markings weren't beautiful by any conventional measure, yet something about them struck Sera deeply. She leaned closer, tracing the words with her fingertips as she read them silently to herself.

Love, Violence, Greed, Treachery, Limbo, Anger, Heresy, Sloth, Immoral, Pestilence, Famine, and Fraud—for what I am, you are too.

Her small lips whispered the final word as her fingers left the engraving. For a fleeting moment, her irises shimmered faintly, a circle appearing within them before vanishing just as quickly.

"Cough!" Startled, Sera tilted backward, losing her balance. Her heart leapt as she braced for the hard fall that would surely come. But instead, she felt nothing—nothing but a strange weightlessness. She floated gently in the air, her wide eyes darting around in confusion.

"You know, it surprises me every time I see you." A calm, slightly amused voice broke the silence. Both the cleaner and Linde flinched, letting out small yelps as Elk appeared behind them without a sound.

"Ah! You have to stop doing that!" Linde exclaimed, her voice exasperated as she clutched her chest. "I swear you'll kill me at this rate!" She let out a shaky sigh, glaring half-heartedly at Elk.

Elk chuckled softly as she walked further into the room, her presence commanding yet unassuming. "I can't help myself. Your reactions are too good." Her gaze flickered to Sera, who was still hovering mid air. With a subtle motion of Elk's hand—and the bracelet letting out a soft chime, the girl gently floated down to the floor, landing on her feet.

Little Sera wasted no time darting behind Linde, clutching at her pants. Her sleepy eyes peered out cautiously from behind her protector. The first thing she noticed about Elk were her hands—red like her own. Then her gaze traveled upward, taking in Elk's tired, sorrowful eyes and her long, flowing black hair that contrasted with Sera's.

Elk smiled faintly, squatting down to Sera's eye level. "Haha, sorry about that, little one. Your reactions make me feel better. But I'm guessing," she said, turning her gaze to Linde, "that your time is running out." Elk's voice softened slightly, but her words were sharp, piercing through Linde's composure. Linde rubbed her left arm absentmindedly, her expression darkening.

Sera, clutching Linde's pants tightly, tilted her head. "Hell...o, pretty lady..." she mumbled, her small voice shy but curious.

Elk's expression shifted, the faintest warmth breaking through her usual weariness. She extended her hands toward Sera. "Come here, little one. I won't bite, I promise. See? We have the same hands." She smiled gently, holding her hands palms up to show Sera.

Sera hesitated, her gaze darting between Elk and Linde. After a moment, she stepped forward cautiously, her small hands reaching out to grasp Elk's. The moment her fingers brushed Elk's palms, her face lit up with a pure, childlike smile. "Hehe... just like mine!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining with delight.

Elk's breath caught as she stared down at the little girl. A few tears welled in her eyes before slipping down her cheeks. Her voice trembled slightly as she asked, "Does it hurt? The rock on your wrist?"

Sera tilted her head, then smiled brightly. "Mmm! When I'm hurting, it shares my pain!"

Elk's eyes fell, her fingers brushing over the small rock bound to Sera's wrist. The words hit her harder than she cared to admit, stirring memories she had buried deep. The same eyes. The same smile. The same phrase. If only 'fate' weren't so cruel.

She blinked back more tears and forced a smile. "I see. That's very special, isn't it?" Her voice was quiet, tinged with sorrow as she glanced at Linde, who was watching her silently, her expression unreadable.

Elk ruffled little Sera's hair gently, her touch surprisingly tender despite the heaviness in the air. The soft chime of her bracelet echoed through the room, and Sera's head wobbled slightly before her small body went slack. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she slumped into Elk's arms, fast asleep.

It wasn't the first time Elk had done this, nor would it be the last time Linde witnessed it. The sight never sat right with her—seeing Sera rendered unconscious so easily—but it was always done with care, never malice.

"I never get used to it," Linde murmured as she lowered herself into a nearby chair. "Even my ancestors didn't have something like that." Her gaze lingered on the bracelet clasped around Elk's wrist. Its polished, intricate design shimmered faintly in the light, a quiet testament to its age and function.

Elk shifted Sera in her arms, cradling the child with a practiced ease. "The people of this era—The Common Era—have so many things our parents could never imagine," she said softly, her thumb brushing a stray hair from Sera's face. "My race, the Andskotarnir, spent generations trying to find a home. A place where we could exist without being hunted, feared, or scattered to the winds." Her voice grew quieter as her eyes dropped to the bracelet. "This bracelet, the MICA… it's older than me, and I've lived over 200 years."

Linde arched a brow, her skepticism clear. "Even that old? Your kind's technology must have been something else."

Elk let out a bitter chuckle. "Don't be too impressed. I'm not special—not like some of my ancestors were. I'll likely die before I can do anything meaningful for my people."

Leo, who had been leaning against the wall, crossed his arms and frowned. His blackened fingers flexed absently, his rain halo tilting slightly. "You sell yourself short, Elk. If you hadn't done anything, neither of us would be here right now."

Elk's lips curved into a faint, weary smile. "Flattery won't get you far, Leo." Her gaze flicked to Linde. "But you know this feeling, don't you? You and Leo both. Your race—the Monsta—isn't so different from mine."

Linde's expression tightened slightly, her arms crossing over her chest. Leo, on the other hand, furrowed his brow, his tail flicking in faint irritation. Elk's words carried the weight of truth, but it was a truth neither of them enjoyed confronting.

"Some of you managed to become more than just mindless beasts," Elk continued, her tone soft but unwavering. "You clawed your way out of the dark, built families, created lives. But how many of your kind can say the same? How many are still trapped in the madness, without a sense of self?"

Linde's jaw tightened, but she said nothing. She didn't need to. She and Leo both knew Elk wasn't wrong. Their families had worked for generations to develop the sense of identity they now carried, but they were the exception, not the rule. Most Monsta remained lost, creatures of instinct and chaos, unable to break free from the curse of their nature.

"The Sirens are no different," Elk said, her gaze distant now, as though she were staring through the walls of the room into the past. "Another race like yours, created to destroy. They wiped out the majority of the Ægir civilizations, and even now, they remain a hivemind-like threat. The Ægir have been fighting them for centuries, trying to survive against an enemy that isn't even truly alive."

"That's different," Leo muttered, his voice low. "The Sirens aren't like us. They don't even try to be more."

Elk's eyes flicked to him, her expression unreadable. "Aren't they? Or do they just not know how to?"

The room fell silent, the weight of her words pressing down on all of them. Linde stared at her hands, her blackened fingers curling slightly. She thought of her family, of how much they had fought to break free from the Monsta's cursed beginnings. It wasn't easy. It was never easy.

Elk let out a soft sigh, her gaze falling back to the sleeping child in her arms. "You both have something the others don't," she said quietly. "Time. You can teach your kind. Show them there's more to life than instinct and destruction. The Andskotarnir don't have that luxury. We've been running for so long-even more so for Illgjarndýrr, the ones Yemei and Usegal fight that them. I don't think we even know what home is anymore."

Linde looked up at Elk, her expression softening. "You've done more for your people than you realize, Elk. You're keeping them alive. Sometimes, that's all anyone can do."

Elk smiled faintly, though the sadness in her eyes didn't fade. "Maybe. But keeping them alive doesn't feel like enough." 

It wasn't enough. It would never be enough—not until those who had twisted her people into the Illgjarndýrr were wiped from existence. The mere thought of them—collapsals, demons of the north and south—made Elk's hands tremble ever so slightly as she cradled the sleeping child. These monstrous beings, touched by the Observers that lurked beyond existence, carried a taint that spread like rot. Whatever the Observers came across, they twisted, corrupted, and left shattered in their wake. The Andskotarnir had once stood tall, but the Illgjarndýrr were their cursed shadows, reminders of a fall that would never be forgotten, hunted by the countries the border the icefield and desert.

Elk closed her eyes, letting the weight of those memories settle like stones in her chest. She had tried to fight for her people, had tried to bring them back from the brink. But no matter how hard she fought, no matter how many times she tried, she had failed. Again and again, the world proved unrelenting, a cruel expanse too great for her alone. The Andskotarnir had scattered to the winds, hiding in places so remote that even the most pristine countries of Terra II couldn't find them. They lived in fear, not of the world, but of themselves—of what they could become if the taint found them once more.

Her eyes drifted to Seraniti's small, peaceful face, her dark lashes resting against her cheeks. She'll see it too, Elk thought, the familiar ache returning to her heart. The same way I see it now. The same way my ancestors saw it.

The vision that haunted her wasn't one of hope or salvation—it was one of inevitability. Seraniti would walk this path, whether she wanted to or not. The gift—if it could even be called that—would awaken within her, just as it had in Elk. She would see the world for what it truly was: fractured, cruel, and laced with threads of beauty that never seemed strong enough to hold it together.

Linde's voice broke the silence, low and edged with frustration. "You're doing it again," she muttered, her sharp eyes fixed on Elk. "Getting lost in your head. You said it yourself—you can't save everyone. None of us can."

Elk let out a dry laugh, but it lacked humor. "No, I can't save everyone. I can't even save my own people. They're hiding, Linde. Hiding so far from the world that they've forgotten what it's like to live in it. And who can blame them? They're hunted, feared, and pushed away. And every day, I think: maybe they're right to stay hidden. Maybe it's safer."

Leo shifted uncomfortably, the metallic rasp of his nains against the wall filling the silence. "Safer, sure," he said gruffly. "But is it living? If all you're doing is running, hiding... what's the point?"

Elk looked at him, her eyes heavy with an unspoken weight. "Maybe there isn't one. Not for us. Not until the ones who made the Illgjarndýrr—the ones who turned my people into collapsals—are wiped from existence." Her voice was low, but it carried a weight that made both Linde and Leo pause.

Linde leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "And who's going to do that, Elk? You? Me? Leo? We can barely keep ourselves alive. You can't expect to take down the people who made the Illgjarndýrr without—" She stopped herself, her words trailing off as her gaze fell on Seraniti.

Elk followed her line of sight, her lips pressing into a thin line. "I won't. I don't have that kind of time. But maybe she does."

Leo scoffed, though there was no malice in it. "You're putting a lot on a kid who doesn't even know what's happening to her yet."

Elk's grip on Seraniti tightened slightly, protectively. "I'm not putting anything on her. But if this world doesn't break her first, she'll have the power to make a choice. The same one I made. The same one you both made. Fight or hide."

Linde straightened, her eyes narrowing slightly. "And what if she doesn't want to fight?"

Elk smiled faintly, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Then I'll make sure she doesn't have to. But if she chooses to… I'll make sure she's ready."

The room fell quiet again, the weight of Elk's words settling heavily over them. In the background, the soft hum of the underground city persisted, a constant reminder of the world that loomed just outside these walls. Elk let her head fall back slightly, her fingers brushing the MICA bracelet on her wrist. It felt heavier now, a common item used in the common era for any caster. An item still unfamiliar to her.

Perhaps it's not about saving everyone, Elk thought. Perhaps it's just about saving the ones who can. Even if it's for one more day.

Because she has my eyes that 'see'.

"So little Sera, wake up." Elk smiled softly once more as she poked her the little girl's chubby cheeks as her eyes fluttered.