Don’t Trust the Ground

Mina trudged ahead, cradling her scraped arm against her chest. The sky over the Waste had darkened, an eerie twilight settling over the landscape. The orb hovered close, its light dim and uncertain.

“You’re not my boss,” Mina muttered, glancing back at it. Her words were defiant, but her voice wavered. She wasn’t sure where she was going, only that she didn’t want to go back yet.

The orb flared slightly in response, as if to protest, but it didn’t speak. It couldn’t.

The ground shifted beneath Mina’s feet again, this time revealing a hidden sinkhole. She cried out as the earth collapsed, her small frame disappearing into the darkness.

The orb shot downward, its glow flaring in panic. It reached the edge of the hole, peering into the gloom. Mina lay crumpled at the bottom, barely moving. A trickle of blood ran down her temple.

Do something. The thought rippled through the orb, not as words but as a desperate sensation. It darted closer, its light brightening, trying to envelop her, to warm her, to do anything. But its energy couldn’t lift her. It couldn’t mend her wounds.

Mina stirred weakly, her eyes fluttering open. “Orb…” she whispered.

The orb pulsed faintly, relieved she was alive, but that relief was fleeting. Her breathing was shallow, and she wasn’t moving.