The Cruel Horizon[Old]

Obinai's breath catches in his throat as he stares at the towering figures, their pale, smooth skin gleaming like polished stone under the flickering, dying lights of the city.

Another earth-shaking BOOM rattles the apartment, sending hairline fractures spiderwebbing across the windows. Glass shards tinkle like malignant windchimes onto the carpet.

"Move!" Amos' command slices through the chaos as he seizes Obinai's arm, wrenching him backward with surprising strength.

Maria herds Mya down the hall, her hands cupping the girl's ears as another impact shakes dust from the ceiling. "Eyes on me, lemon drop," she murmurs, voice fraying at the edges but still warm. "Just like that storm last summer, remember? We sang—"

"Three Little Birds," Mya whimpers, fingers twisting in her mother's sweater. "But Dad was home then."

The unspoken and sober hangs between them.

Amos stands at the edge of the hallway, his back to the wall, peering toward the front of the apartment. His eyes dart between the door and the walls as though expecting them to collapse at any moment. "Stay quiet," he says in a low voice, his head tilting slightly as he listens to the faint but unmistakable sounds of destruction outside.

Obinai leans heavily against the wall. His mind spins, replaying the whispers, the tremors, and the impossible sight of the creatures. What does it mean? Why do I feel like…weird?

A low, ominous rumble reverberates through the building. Dust shakes loose from the ceiling, sprinkling down like ash.

Amos paces like a caged animal, his steps erratic and heavy. His hands grip on the sides of his bald head, then slap against the sides. Suddenly, he hits himself in the forehead with a sharp smack, making Obinai and the others flinch.

"Stupid!" he growls. "I should have known—damn it! I knew! I knew! But it shouldn't—no, it can't make sense." His voice rises into a frenzied mutter. "If it is—if it really is the Reckoning—oh no. Oh no, no, no. Then I have to do that." His hands grip the sides of his head, his fingers digging into his scalp.

"I can't..." The words scrape out. His fingers twitch at his sides—half reaching, half recoiling.

A dry, humorless laugh escapes Amos. "I made the choice then," he says, his voice gaining strength. "I won't—fucking—change it now." He whispers the last part, shaking his head violently. "Structurally, no known organism should be able to exhibit such size and mobility without collapsing under its own weight. The square-cube law—" He stumbles over the words, his fists clenching in frustration. "It shouldn't work! None of this should work!"

Maria, crouched in the corner with Mya trembling in her arms, throws him a sharp glare. "Amos, now is not the time for your theories!" she snaps. "We're not your damn colleagues—we're about to die, for God's sake!"

Amos doesn't seem to hear her. "These creatures… their scale, their movements—it's all wrong. Bioluminescent properties—why? For communication? Intimidation? How do they sustain their mass? Energy systems? Their biology—" He smacks his forehead again, harder this time, his voice strained. "We don't understand! It doesn't fit. Nothing fits!"

"Dad!" Obinai's voice cuts through Amos's frantic muttering. He's standing rigid, fists clenched. "Focus!" he yells. "We're about to die here! Snap the hell out of it!"

The sheer force of the next blast silences them all. Amos snaps out of his reverie, spinning to face his family.

He strides toward Obinai, gripping his shoulders tightly. "Obinai, listen to me," he says. "You're taking Mya down the fire escape. Get as far as you can, as fast as you can. Do you understand?"

Obinai's eyes widen, his heart pounding in his chest. "What? Why just us? Why can't we all go together?"

Maria, her face pale but fierce, steps forward, her voice trembling but firm. "Amos, he's right! We stay together!"

Amos shakes his head sharply, his frustration and fear breaking through. His voice rises. "We can't!" Another rumble shakes the building violently, forcing him to grab the wall for balance. "It has to be them!" he says.

Maria's eyes widen, her face twisting into a mix of confusion and disbelief. "What are you talking about?" she demands. "Why them? Amos, this doesn't make sense!"

For a moment, Amos doesn't respond, his face shadowed. Finally, he forces the words out, his voice quieter now but strained. "Just trust me."

Maria stares at him. "Trust you?" she whispers. Tears begin to well in her eyes, the reality of the moment sinking in like a weight she can't lift. "How can I trust you when you're sending them out there?"

"Maria—" Amos starts.

"You said you'd keep us safe! You promised!" Her voice cracks, tears brimming in her eyes. "And now—now you're telling me they have to go alone? Tell me why, Amos! Tell me why!"

Amos flinches. His shoulders slump and his hands balling into trembling fists at his sides. He forces himself to meet her gaze, his own eyes glassy and unfocused, barely holding back the flood threatening to break free. He swallows hard before speaking.

"If I tell you it won't happen," he starts. His lips quiver, and he presses them tightly together. "If I tell you the course of what is will change…" His voice falters, a tear sliding down his cheek, unnoticed. He closes his eyes briefly.

"But I—I can't." His hand instinctively rises to his face, swiping at the tear. "I wish to the gods that I could." His voice trembles. "You don't know how desperately I wish I could… but I can't."

Maria shakes her head, tears spilling freely now. Her hands tremble as she grips Mya's shoulders. "I can't," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "I can't let them go."

Amos turns away, his hand covering his face as his composure finally cracks. "You think I want this?" he says, his voice muffled. "You think I can live with this?" His shoulders heave as a sob escapes him, and he quickly wipes at his eyes. "But we don't have a choice, Maria. Not anymore."

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Obinai watches as the weight of his parents' desperation sinks in. Maria turns her tear-streaked face to him, her gaze searching his, her eyes filled with a mother's pain and an unspoken plea. Time seems to freeze as she stares at him, her tears falling silently.

Obinai shifts uncomfortably under her intense gaze, swallowing hard. He doesn't know what she's looking for, but somehow, he feels like he has to give it. He takes a shaky breath, his voice quieter than he expected when he says, "Mom… I can do this."

His words hang in the air, trembling like a fragile thread.

Maria's lips quiver, and her tears flow more freely now. She nods slowly, her hands gripping Mya's shoulders so tightly that the girl winces. "Take care of her," she says softly, her voice breaking completely.

"I will," Obinai promises.

Amos turns sharply to the window, his face etched with resolve, though his eyes glisten with unshed tears. "Move. Now," he says.

As Obinai steps toward the window, his back to the family, a single tear escapes and slides down his cheek. He doesn't wipe it away. Maria, unable to contain her anguish any longer, pulls Mya into a tight embrace, her quiet sobs muffled against her daughter's hair.

Obinai clenches his fists at his sides, his own vision blurring with tears he refuses to let fall. He takes Mya's hand, gripping it tightly, and looks back at his parents. They don't meet his gaze.

"Let's go," Obinai whispers, as he grips Mya's hand and leads her toward the window. Behind them, Maria's quiet sobs echo in the hallway.

The sound of distant crashes and panicked screams fills the air as Obinai pushes the window open. The cool night air rushes in, carrying with it the acrid scent of smoke.

...
...

Maria's sobs rip through the air as she stumbles toward Amos. Her hands tremble, but she grips his shirt with surprising strength, shaking him violently.

"Damnit, Amos!" Maria's voice cracks, her scream jagged like it's been ripped straight from her soul. "What's going on? How could you do this? It's our job—our job—to protect our kids! It's what we signed up for! Do you even care anymore?"

Her voice reverberates through the room. Amos stands motionless, his broad shoulders hunched forward. His hands twitch at his sides, but he doesn't lift his gaze. The dim overhead light cuts harsh shadows across his face, but his eyes remain hidden, fixed on the floor like it might swallow him whole.

Maria's breath shudders, and she grabs his shirt with both hands, yanking him closer, but her grip falters. Her fingers slip, trembling as her own sobs betray her anger. She swipes at her face in frustration, dragging tears across flushed cheeks, and stumbles back a step. Her movements are wild now, desperate, like a trapped animal searching for a way out.

"To hell with this," she growls. Her eyes dart to the window, and she takes a shaky breath, chest heaving. "Anywhere is safer than here—as long as my kids are with me."

Her movements grow frantic, her feet pounding the hardwood floor as she bolts for the window. The sound of her footsteps barely registers before Amos lunges after her. His hands catch her waist, dragging her down, and they crash onto the floor together. The impact sends a hollow thud echoing through the room.

Maria screams, a animalistic sound, as she thrashes beneath him. Her nails rake at his forearms, leaving angry red welts, and she twists violently, trying to break free. Her fist swings up, catching him across the cheek with a sickening crack. Amos grunts, the force snapping his head to the side. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth, but he doesn't stop.

"Maria!" His voice is hoarse, shaking. "Stop—please, stop!"

She swings again, harder this time, and her knuckles collide with his jaw. His breath hitches, but he catches her wrist mid-swing, holding her arm in place with trembling hands.

"I'm sorry!" he cries. "I'm so sorry, Maria. I didn't know—" He breaks off, his grip on her wrist faltering. "I didn't know this could happen."

Maria's struggles weaken, her movements slowing. Her fists tremble against his chest before they collapse entirely, her hands fisting his shirt in quiet surrender. She buries her face against him, her tears soaking through the fabric. Her voice, muffled and broken, shakes as she speaks.

"Why?" she whispers. "Why are you like this? Why do you always have to be like this?" She grips his shirt tighter. "Why did I marry a man with so many damn secrets? What have you done, Amos?"

Amos doesn't respond right away. Silent tears streak his face as his head lowers, and his grip on her wrist falls away.

"I—I don't know," he stammers. "I don't know, honey. I wish I could tell you."

His hands come up, trembling, hovering as though he wants to comfort her but doesn't know how. Finally, he grips her shoulders lightly, his fingers digging in just enough. "But if any of them—if any of our kids—have a chance, this is the only way. I swear to the gods, Maria, I didn't want this. I didn't. But it's all I have left to give them."

Maria stiffens, her sobs quieting, but his words make her shudder against him. Amos swallows hard, his voice cracking again as he adds, almost inaudibly, "And I might—I might have a way to make their chances better. But it's all I've got left."

...
...

Obinai steadies himself on the fire escape's metal railing before turning back to Mya. "Grip my wrist, not just my hand," he orders. Mya's small fingers lock around his forearm with surprising strength as she scrambles after him.

The entire structure shudders, releasing a groan that sets Obinai's teeth on edge. Flakes of rust rain down like morbid confetti.

"Eyes forward," he mutters, more for himself than her. Don't think about the seven-story drop. Don't think about the way the bolts are screaming—

Mya's sneaker slips on a corroded step.

"Shit—!" Obinai yanks her upright, his shoulder protesting the sudden movement. The fire escape sways dangerously. Somewhere below, a rivet pops free and pings against the pavement.

They've barely descended halfway when Mya freezes. Her fingernails dig into his arm like talons.

"Obi..."

The whisper slithers out of her, too thin, too broken. Obinai follows her gaze—

The city skyline is no longer recognizable. The towering creatures move with grotesque grace, their massive forms blotting out the stars fading away into early morning. Their pale, smooth skin gleams under the flickering light of fires burning in the distance. Some of the creatures crawl across buildings like predatory insects, while others swoop through the air, their movements unnervingly fluid for their size.

"What are they doing?" Mya asks.

Obinai can't answer. He watches in horrified silence as one of the creatures lands on a nearby building, its massive hands glowing with an eerie, blackish-white light. The air around it seems to hum with energy, an unnatural keening sound.

Mya whimpers, covering her ears. "It hurts…"

Obinai winces, his teeth on edge as the sound grows louder. "I don't know," he says, his voice strained. "Just… just stay close."

The glow in the creature's hands intensifies, coalescing into a black spear of pure energy, its surface shifting like molten metal. The creature rears back, its movements deliberate and terrifyingly precise. With a powerful, fluid motion, it hurls the spear into the air.

The projectile arcs across the skyline, its trajectory deadly and unerring. Obinai's breath catches as he follows its path, his heart sinking when he realizes where it's headed.

"No…" he whispers, his voice barely audible.

The spear strikes with devastating force, impaling a building below. The explosion is immediate, a burst of light and sound that shakes the air around them. Obinai stares, frozen, as smoke and debris billow outward, engulfing the structure in chaos.

It takes him a moment to register what he's looking at, and when he does, his chest tightens painfully. "The library…" he mutters, his voice cracking.

Mya looks up at him, her eyes wide with confusion and fear. "What?"

Obinai swallows hard, his mind flooded with memories—the quiet afternoons spent there, the smell of old books, the soft murmur of turning pages. He remembers sitting with Mya in the children's section, their mother reading to them while sunlight streamed through the large windows. That place had been a refuge, a sanctuary.

Now, it stands broken, a gaping hole. Smoke pours from the wreckage, and the faint sound of screams rises from the chaos below.

Obinai's hands tremble as he grips the railing, his knuckles aching from the strain. "That was…" He trails off, unable to finish the sentence.

"Obi," Mya says softly, tugging at his arm. "We have to go."

Her voice pulls him back to the present, and he blinks, his vision clearing. He nods stiffly, forcing himself to turn away. "Yeah...,"