Gods?
Noah’s eyes blinked open, his head splitting in pain. He groaned and shifted, trying to hold his temples. That’s when he noticed his wrists were bound above his head and that he was hanging from a hook on the wall behind him – cold and rough. His toes barely touching the floor.
He opened his eyes, trying to get a good look of his surroundings. There was little light in the room, it smelled damp and earthy. Noah’s eyes weren’t quite adjusted but he could see the ground below him was no more than stamped dirt. The walls made of rocks, and to his left was one single window covered by a cloth that kept out the light, but not the cool morning air.
“Where…” Noah tried to ask where he was but his voice just croaked out, throat and tongue dry. He swallowed, trying to force saliva to produce and coat his throat but he failed. “Hello!” Noah croaked through the pain. “Mira!” He called, “Cora! Elias…anyone…” He trailed off, throat unable to make any more sounds.
He couldn’t speak anymore but he could try and escape. The people who attacked him must’ve kidnapped them. People. He remembered as he tried to lift up enough to get off of the hook. There shouldn’t be – can’t be – people down here. They all died. He kept thinking. At least, that is what they had been told on Haven. That everyone left behind had died, even if they had survived the Cataclysm, there was no way they could’ve survived the Earths’ harshness afterwards.
It was impossible.
Yet, here he was. In some makeshift prison – a prisoner of people who shouldn’t be alive.
Noah struggled harder, mustering all of his strength when the door across from him flew open, banging against the wall. More light poured in allowing for Noah to see a bed in the corner and a table next to it. The figure in the door was hidden by the light behind him. But they were big and broad.
He didn’t speak, his tall frame just stepped inside, the door remaining open. He walked up to Noah and as he did, his features solidified – the shadows falling away.
The first thing Noah noticed was how young he looked. Yet imposing. His clothing looked like it had been patched together from other things. He stood right in front of him now. His body heat pulsed off of him and hit Noah hard. The strangers hazel eyes were striking and held Noah’s gaze. Not breaking eye contact.
Noah tried to struggle free, sink into the wall behind him, he squirmed in the uncomfortable gaze that his captor held him in. The man just stood there, silent, studying him.
“Please…just let me go.” Noah’s voice cracked out as he struggled once more. It gained no significant reaction. He just continued to stare, cocking his head to the side now. His brown hair shifted; his eyes narrowed.
Then, he inched closer and Noah could smell him now. He smelled like the world around him. Noah had grown so familiar with this smell since landing on Earth. He looked Noah up and down.
“What?” Noah asked him as he breathed in the scent of this man. Like tree and stone. It was captivating, filling Noah’s lungs, body. He didn’t answer, still remaining silent, opting instead to produce a knife from his side. “What are you -” Noah squirmed again as his captor raised it slowly, traveling up Noah’s body before, in one swift motion, he used it to cut the ropes that bound Noah’s wrists above him.
He backed away as Noah collapsed to the ground. Noah looked up at him. Still intimidating. Still larger than Noah’s more slender body. The man turned and walked to the table across the room and grabbed something from his pocket and began working. Back turned to Noah.
Noah glanced at the door; it was still open. He couldn’t see much outside just trees and another building, maybe two. He began to hear voices, low and muffled. Then he looked back to his captor, confused.
“Why did you free me? What if I attack?” Noah asked as he got up, steadying himself against the wall but not expecting an answer.
“You won’t.” His voice was smooth and calm. Resolute. It didn’t match his imposing frame.
“Oh, you talk.” Noah remarked, taking a step towards the door.
“Hungry?” He asked as he turned to face Noah. Noah looked him up and down the man now wearing a smile. “You can leave if you want, but you won’t get far.” He held out a slice of apple, taking a bit of another. “Besides, Mira and Elias are waiting for you.” Noah’s eyes widened. How did he know them? What was he talking about?
“How…”
“They woke up about an hour ago and they were starving. Figured you might be too Noah.” He smiled bigger, still holding out the apple slice. Noah was hungry. The sight of the apple made his stomach growl.
“How do you know my name?” Noah takes a step closer to the apple.
“Well, last night I heard one of your men yell it at you. Then, this morning Mira told me.” He explained in his calm tone. “Sorry for having you hung up like that. I told my men to tie you to the bed. They never listen. You think they would. Considering I’m their prince.” The prince took a step closer to Noah. “Eat.” He insisted, pushing the apple slice closer.
“Prince?” Noah shook his head in confusion. He looked him up and down. He didn’t seem princely. He did however look familiar. “Wait…” Noah ran through his memories of last night. “You were the one who saved me from that guy who thought I was a god.” It clicked.
“I did.” He nodded. “Oscarion.” The prince closed the gap between the two, his stoney scent colliding with Noah again. “You should eat this before I do. We have a lot to discuss. Elias tells me you’re the leader of your people.”
Noah grabbed the apple slice and ate it without a second thought.
“You should also train your people not to give out such information freely.” Oscarion winked.
“Well, I’m not my peoples leader.” Noah laughed bitterly. “I’m just the team leader. My mother is the leader of my people. Do you have any water.” His throat felt like sandpaper.
“Oh so, you’re a prince?” He asked, turning and walking out the door. He left Noah behind.
For a moment.
“Are you coming, I’m taking you to the others, and some water.” He popped his head back in the room.
“Sure.” Noah shuffled forward, wanting answers almost as much as food and water.
As Noah followed Oscarion outside he saw they were in some form of encampment. There were old, crumbled buildings around him, repaired and added onto, along with some buildings that were made from wood and stone that didn’t match the other ones. More people walked around the camp as Oscarion lead him through it. They all whispered in hushed tones at Noah and bowed their heads at Oscarion.
“Where are we?” Noah caught up to Oscarion.
“Brixton.” He answered simply.
“I mean what is this place.” Noah rolled his eyes. Remaining on guard, ready to run at any chance he could. This man could be lying about everything. Noah had no clue why he was following him anyway.
“It’s a village in my kingdom that we have converted into a buffer between our enemies and our capital.” Oscarion explained.
“Enemies?”
“The ones who attacked you last night.” He explained. “I’ll tell you more in here.” He stopped in front of a door, opening it. Inside Elias and Mira sat eating breakfast.
“Noah!” They both shout in excitement, abandoning their plates to rush to Noah. He rushes inside meeting them, holding them close. Squeezing them.
“Oh my god. I’m so happy to see you.” He huffed out. “I thought for sure he was lying and about to kill me.”
“Why would I kill the messengers of the gods?” Oscarion asked from behind the reunited friends.
“Gods?” Noah asked in a hushed voice to his team. He suddenly remember the words of one of his attackers the previous night.
“Yeah, we need to tell you something.” Mira pulled Noah close and whispered into his ear. “This guy, all of them, think we are messengers – emissaries – sent by their Gods.”
“Then why tie me up like a prisoner?” Noah asked.
“You were thrashing – fighting the ones who carried you. I think it spooked them.” Elias explained. “They saved us from the desert people.”
“Wasteborn.” Mira interjected in a continued hush.
“Wasteborn?” Noah questioned.
“The people who left King Roan’s kingdom. They left to the west – the wastes – and were cursed. The Gods made it so they would know only hunger and thirst.” Oscarion added to the conversation. Good hearing. Noah thought to himself.
“They didn’t seem very starved or dehydrated when they almost killed us last night.” Noah turned to him. “How?”
“They turned to…other sources of sustenance.” Oscarion’s face darkened. His expression turning. “The Wastes are cruel and unforgiving. Only the strong survive, while the weak…well the weak feed the strong.”
“Cannibalism.” Elias said grimly.
“Yes.” Oscarion nods. He steps into the room and closes the door behind him. “Now, we have more to discuss before we go to my mother.”
“Why would we do that? Where are the rest of my team? How are you here?” Noah unloads the questions. Elias pulls his arm lightly.
“Remember,” he whispers in his ear. “he and his people think we are messengers from the gods.”
“And why the fuck does he think that?” Noah whispers back.
“Your chariot.” Oscarion and his great hearing answer. “You came from the sky in it. We saw it. So did the Wasteborn. That’s why they attacked you.”
“Okay, look Oscarion.” Noah began but then hesitated. Religion was one of the outdated and dangerous things that the people of Earth had clung to before the Cataclysm. Religion was even more dangerous when its followers were told they were wrong. “I need to know where the rest of my people are.” He changed his words.
“We only saved the three of you. The Wasteborn took the others.” Oscarion informed him.
“They killed them?”
“No,” Mira put a hand on Noah’s shoulder. “they’ll have kept them alive.”
“At least Oscarion and his people think.” Elias walked back to the table and sat back down, continuing his breakfast. “He says that they’ll execute them at sundown or something.”
“I believe they’ll wait. Put on a spectacle for the Gods to see,” Oscarion said, gesturing to the table. “Sit. We have much to discuss.”
Noah hesitated, unsure what to do. His mind was a tangle of questions: What now? What to ask? How to save his team? He hoped this man had some answers. Finally, he nodded.
“Fine.”
He sat down. Mira and Oscarion joined him. Reaching for a glass, Noah drank deeply, soothing his dry throat.
Oscarion began to explain. The Wasteborn, he said, had left the kingdom generations ago, when they lost faith in the Gods and in King Roan—the first King of Astrid. Roan had been sent by the Gods to protect the people from the “Red Sky” and the “Gray Winds.” He’d led survivors out of the caves and ruins, helped them rebuild, and promised that the Gods would return one day with messengers—once the people were deemed worthy. He spoke of a city in the sky, where the Gods had taken as many as they could to wait until Earth was ready again.
“Haven?” Noah echoed the name, disbelief in his voice.
“Yes.” Oscarion nodded solemnly. “Our Gods took those they deemed worthy to live there until the Earth healed from fire and poison. But Roan’s wife, Astrid, chose to stay behind. She believed more people were worthy. So Roan begged the Gods to let him return to teach and prepare us. They agreed. That was nearly two hundred years ago.”
“Timeline adds up,” Mira murmured, turning to Noah. He nodded.
“Oscarion,” Noah began gently, trying to ease into what he had to say. He didn’t want to shatter the prince’s worldview all at once. “Some of your history... isn’t quite right. We’re not messengers from the Gods.”
Elias and Mira shot him sharp glances.
“You’re not?” Oscarion asked.
Noah shook his head. He stayed calm, alert, ready to defend himself if necessary.
“Is that because there are no Gods?” Oscarion asked plainly. “Or is this a test?”
“It’s not a test.” Noah slowly laid his palms on the table. Mira and Elias sat stiffly, poised to react.
“Then there are no Gods,” Oscarion said, tone flat, not angry. Just… accepting.
“No,” Noah repeated, quieter this time.
“I always had questions,” Oscarion admitted. “Many of us did. There aren’t many true believers left. But people still fear the Gods. Respect them.”
“You’re taking this better than I thought,” Noah said, surprised.
“Did you think I was some brainwashed zealot who’d cut your tongue out for doubting divine power?” Oscarion raised a brow, the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes.
“I did, actually,” Mira chimed in, raising a sheepish hand.
Oscarion chuckled. “As I said—it’s been two centuries. Most people hold onto respect for the idea of the Gods, but not devotion. Best to keep your lack of divinity to yourself.”
“Smart,” Noah agreed. Oscarion might be reasonable, but the rest? No telling how they'd react.
“I do have a question,” Mira cut in. “About Roan. If Earth was so devastated, how did he help people survive? Shouldn’t everyone have been in bunkers or something?”
“He carried the blood of the Gods,” Oscarion replied. “It allowed us to survive the new Earth—the heat, the poisoned air, all of it.”
“Poisoned air…” Mira echoed. “It would’ve been radioactive for decades.” She drifted into thought. Scientists before the Cataclysm had tried modifying humans when they couldn’t save the Earth. It hadn’t worked—or so they’d thought.
“You said the Wasteborn would wait to kill my people. Why?” Noah asked, snapping her out of it.
“To make a statement,” Oscarion said. “To insult us. To show their people that they have the power now, and the Gods do not—even if it’s a lie.”
“They took one of your villages, right?” Elias asked, steering the conversation back.
“Yes. Trident. Our westernmost settlement. A defense post.” Oscarion’s face darkened. “Until I lost it. I’ve sworn to reclaim it—before they find it.”
“Find what?” Noah asked gently.
“A weapon left by the Gods. Said to be buried beneath Trident.” Oscarion corrected himself. “Or whoever left it.”
“The bunker,” Noah said, realization dawning. “There’s a bunker down there. We were sent to find it.”
“Why? What’s in it?” Oscarion asked.
“Supplies we thought we’d need to survive,” Noah said with a tired sigh. “We didn’t know you were down here. My mother is going to be very surprised to learn an entire civilization is still alive.”
“What kind of supplies?” he asked, curiosity piqued.
“Building materials, food stores—though maybe not anymore,” Mira answered. “If Roan led your people up here, he likely took what was needed. Do you have crop fields?”
“Yes, to the east and north.”
“Then he probably took seeds from the bunker. Livestock?”
“Yes. Scattered across the kingdom.”
“Embryos, probably. They’d have been in cold storage.” She frowned. “I wonder if anything’s still down there.”
“Even if the supplies aren’t, the communications systems are,” Noah said, biting into some toast. “And we need that.”
“Will there be weapons?” Oscarion asked. “From the old world? Myths say they shot fire and metal—could pierce any armor.”
“Possibly,” Noah said. There could be.
“Then I have a deal,” Oscarion said, straightening. “I help you rescue your people and get into the bunker. In return, you help me reclaim Trident—and drive my enemies back to the Wastes.”
Noah considered. He wasn’t a soldier. He had no army. The Wasteborn were brutal. They didn’t know the terrain or the layout of Trident, let alone how to reach the bunker.
“Do you know how to get into it?” he asked.
“No. But there are tunnels under the town. I explored them as a child, when my father took me there. It’s a maze, but I remember a metal door I could never open. Maybe that’s it.”
“Maybe,” Noah said, still undecided.
“My army can draw them out. While they’re distracted, we break into the place they’re keeping the rest of the Skyborn.”
“Skyborn?” Noah asked at the term.
Oscarion only smiled. “And how do you plan to find them?”
“I sent a scout this morning,” Oscarion said, grinning. “They’ll report back.”
“You’ve got it all worked out then?” Noah raised a brow.
“If we leave within the hour, we’ll reach Trident by sundown. We’ll have your team back before the last of the orange fades from the sky.”
“Doesn’t seem like I have much choice,” Noah muttered.
“You could say no. My army will still march. But I can’t promise your people’s safety—or that we’ll win.”
“Why do you think there are weapons in that bunker?” Elias said.
“There are no legends of Roan wielding any weapons of fire. Only that he carried a great sword that he made from the rubble of the world around him. He believed that the old worlds weapons were too destructive.” Oscarion replied.
This King Roan had been correct, guns and bombs were far too destructive. They had helped to lead to the collapse of the old world.
“What happens after?” Noah asked the important question.
“We talk about that when we can,” the prince said. “Right now, we don’t have time. If we delay, your friends die. The Wasteborn will wait—but not forever.”
A knock at the door interrupted them. Oscarion called out for them to enter.
A woman stepped in, bowing. “Highness. The men are ready. Have the messengers agreed to help us?”
Oscarion looked to Noah.
Noah turned to the woman. “I’ll need a weapon. And armor.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll have them for you and the others before we march,” she said with reverence, believing him to be a divine messenger.
“Then, Karina, tell the men: we march within the hour,” Oscarion ordered.
She bowed and left.
Oscarion stood and held out his hand. “Looks like we’re allies.”
Noah rose and clasped it. “Allies.”
They’d left ahead of schedule, and the three Skyborn messengers now wore mismatched armor—patchwork pieces held together with rope, scrap wood, and twisted metal. Elias’s sword had faint words etched into the blade. Though worn down, he could just make out the word “park.”
Oscarion and Noah rode side by side, while Elias and Mira shared a horse behind them. Soldiers marched alongside—some of Oscarion’s generals on horseback—forming a protective ring around the prince and the messengers. No one had been told the truth about the Skyborn. A precaution.
“A lovely morning to take my city back,” Oscarion said to Noah, a faint grin playing on his lips.
“It is,” Noah replied, keeping up the pretense that he was the leader of his people. “And a lovely morning to rescue my men. The gods will shine upon you for this.” His tone was slightly theatrical—it made him uncomfortable, but it was necessary.
“Aye,” Oscarion nodded.
Behind them, Elias and Mira remained silent. They didn’t quite approve of the deception.
They rode in silence for a while, the only sounds being birdsong and the crunch of hooves and boots against the forest floor. Noah inhaled deeply, smiling softly. The world still managed to fill him with wonder, despite everything. For a moment, he almost forgot the danger around them—almost.
“Your face may split if you keep smiling like that,” Oscarion said with a quiet chuckle, low enough that only Noah could hear.
“Sorry,” Noah softened his grin. “It’s just… all of this is new to me. I’ve spent my whole life in artificial gardens and sterile hallways. This is just…”
“Breathtaking?” Oscarion offered.
Noah smiled and nodded. The sunlight broke through the trees, illuminating the prince’s face. His eyes were striking in the morning light, and his dark hair—touched with gentle curls—gleamed with golden undertones where the sun kissed it. His features stood out: sharp yet soft cheekbones, a broad jaw shaded with stubble, and lips that moved like they held secrets.
He’s beautiful, Noah thought—and then instantly flushed red at the realization, looking away. He forced his focus elsewhere.
“So,” he began, nodding toward one of the muscular men walking ahead, “you said this Gideon will lead the assault?”
“He will,” Oscarion confirmed. “I’ll stay with you. Mira and Elias will hang back at a safe distance, with guards. That’s the plan.” He repeated it calmly. “Your friends will be saved. No need to worry.”
“One of them is my fiancé, actually,” Noah said, almost offhandedly. And then it struck him—this was the first time he’d even thought about Adrian since waking up.
“You must be worried about them,” Oscarion said, almost with disappointment.
“I am.” Noah cleared his throat. Guilt began to press in. He told himself he’d been overwhelmed—anyone might forget their fiancé in such chaos… right? “I love him,” he said aloud, like a reminder to himself.
“What’s his name?” the prince asked.
“Adrian.” Noah glanced at him as they pressed forward.
“I think I heard that name shouted last night,” Oscarion mused, recalling the skirmish—how he’d seen Noah fighting off a Wasteborn and felt compelled to rush to his aid. Like something had pulled him there.
“Thank you again,” Noah said quietly. “You saved my life.”
“And now you’re helping me reclaim part of my kingdom. We’re even.” Oscarion nodded, and silence fell once more.
Around them, murmurs stirred—excitement for the coming battle, whispers about gods and their messengers. Noah tried to ignore the stares Oscarion’s soldiers gave him. Uneasy but silent.
In the rustle of leaves and snap of twigs, most didn’t hear the man leap from the trees—weapon raised, eyes locked on Noah.
“Free them! Let them come with me and no one dies!” the man barked, aiming a gun at Oscarion. He fired two shots into the air—warning, not harm.
Archers inside the formation immediately drew their bows, waiting for their commander’s word.
“Adrian!” Noah cried, leaping from the horse just as a soldier tackled the man from behind.
“Gah!” Adrian cried out, collapsing as he was struck hard across the head. His gun clattered to the ground, and his body hit the dirt with a thud.
“Adrian!” Another voice called out—Cora, emerging from behind a tree. She broke into a sprint toward them just as an archer raised his bow to fire.
“No!” Noah shouted, slapping the bow aside and running toward her. “Cora! You’re alive!”
Elias and Mira dismounted quickly and followed Noah.
“Stand down,” Oscarion commanded, dismounting with a sharp, authoritative edge in his voice.
“Noah!” Cora shrieked as the two collided, Elias and Mira hurrying to join them. The four embraced tightly, as if afraid the world might rip them apart again.
“Noah,” Cora sobbed. “Elias, Mira—I… we thought you were dead.”
“We’re alive,” Noah said, gripping her tightly. “We thought you were taken by the Wasteborn.”
“Adrian killed the one who tried to drag me off,” she said, pulling back. “We ran, trying to find you and the others—”
“Wasteborn?” she echoed, wiping at her tears, confusion flickering across her face as Oscarion approached. Her expression shifted to pale recognition.
“There’s a lot to explain,” Elias said quickly. “Also, his people think we’re messengers of the gods. Just… go with it.”
“Messengers of the what now?” she blinked.
“Yes,” Oscarion cut in, his tone warm but composed. “Your secret is safe with me. But some of my people may take longer to understand. I am Oscarion, Prince of Astrid. It is an honor to meet you.”
Cora’s eyes widened as she took his hand, shaking it delicately. He was gentle, sensing her unease.
“Nice to meet you,” she whispered, and instinctively began to bow—until Mira lightly touched her arm.
“Don’t,” Mira said with a soft laugh. “Not in front of his people.”
“Right… gods,” Cora muttered. “No, messengers. Sure. Totally normal.”
“We’ll explain everything,” Noah reassured her, “after we save the others.”
“The others!” Cora gasped, suddenly remembering. “Talia and Morgan—we were tracking them, but we lost the trail. I don't know if they're still alive—”
“They will be,” Oscarion said, meeting her gaze with solemn conviction. “I promise you that.”
Cora stared at him, unsure whether to believe a prince who thought she was divine. But something in his tone—unwavering, resolute—struck her like truth.
Noah glanced at the horizon, where the forest began to thin. The trees swayed gently, and for a fleeting moment, the world felt still. Peaceful, even. But just beyond that calm loomed danger and uncertainty—and the hope of saving the others.
They didn’t have much time.
“Let’s move,” Oscarion said, turning and walking back to his horse. He mounted it and Noah and the others followed him. After the soldiers lifted the unconscious Adrian on the back of Noah’s horse, Cora joined Oscarion (uncomfortably) and they resumed their march.
Noah looked at his friends behind him and nodded. “Let’s bring them home.”
