Rumor of the Creche of the Waste

Dren trudged across the cracked and broken expanse, the heat rising in shimmering waves that distorted the horizon. Behind him, Anora followed at a measured distance, her presence both a reassurance and a quiet reminder that he wasn’t entirely free.

Rumors of Creche remnants in the Waste had brought him here. This was no longer about scavenging scraps of precious metal from the riverbeds. Now, it was about discovery—perhaps redemption, though he wouldn’t admit that even to himself.

“What are you looking for, exactly?” Anora’s voice cut through the arid air.

“Something,” Dren muttered. He didn’t turn to face her. “Something big enough to matter.”

Anora sighed but said nothing more.