Salvation by Moony1 | World Anvil Manuscripts | World Anvil

Prologue

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Seth sits quietly near the makeshift campfire on the snowy rooftop of a ruined building with nothing else but his clothes. A young boy can be seen calmly staring down at his golden crucifix that was given to him ever since he had been wondering aimlessly in this frosted wasteland of snow and ice.

Its holy cross is twelve inches in size and an additional twelve inches in height, a parting gift given by the kind priest who took him in; this source of comfort is the only thing keeping the lonely youth company in this godless frozen morning night.

Shivering a bit due to the bitter cold winds, the child kept silent while feeling the warmth coming from the crackling fire. Wondering to himself: What will he do? What is he supposed to do next?

He doesn't know what to do anymore; there is no one to turn to aside from the man who gave him shelter, never forgetting the kindness that the priest has shown to him after dying from old age before being forced out of his church.

The only place where he could stay, even though it was full of irreparable damages and untouched by others, he stayed there and felt safe for several weeks until the police arrived.

Now here he is, still looking down at this weapon that has almost been with him throughout this hellish place; at least he wasn't back in that burning inferno. He couldn't even imagine how horrific it must have been to experience the blazing fires that burned him alive for so many years.

Sometimes, he questions himself: What did he do to deserve this? Moreover, how did he become human to begin with? It doesn't matter; nothing else is important other than surviving the next day. He took refuge in a hidden section of New York City, the abandoned place where there's no one or anything aside from himself and probably some homeless junkies he needs to keep an eye out for.

Looking up at the foggy sky, its snowflakes can be seen falling downwards; they appear to be the most beautiful sight of winter while knowing that these same flakes will cover the ground until the clouds break apart and expose the sun above, thus ending its storm and bringing forth the pleasant rays of light.

"I'm terrified..." Wrapping his own arms around his huddled legs, Seth's head bowed down in deep thought while ignoring the flurry of wind blowing around him. "Why does everything have to be like this?" Questioning himself more, the young boy tried thinking of another question to answer within the privacy of his own mind.

Is this a test from the Lord? The priest told him that everything would get better by just believing in himself and having faith for a much greater good. Seth didn't really understand that, but he could feel the old man's belief in him. That is why he's not afraid and why he's always trying to keep on moving.

The old man was like a good father to him; it was sad to see him ago and the only person in this entire world that actually cares. Not forgetting that the man wanted to make a promise of keeping faith and hope that God will watch over him, he still remembers that moment, for it is forever implanted in his thoughts.

He doesn't know if God even existed to begin with, let alone watch over him. Seth remembered his teacher once saying that all living things have God's divine light, which is called the gift of life. God is a part of life and part of them, for the almighty is ever-present with everyone, in some form or another.

Grabbing the crucifix, he looks at its golden shine that glistens whenever the dim fire light is near it. He asked the Lord to give him guidance and tell him what he should do because he was tired of continuing this cycle of running and hiding from others.

And yet, he never gets an answer from God—no comforting words, not even a sign of what he should do next. Nothing at all. He's even questioning himself: What's the point of bringing this dumb thing with him the whole time? But this is his form of comfort, like bright light that prevents him from being scared in the dark, a sense of belonging that can only be provided by him and only him.

Holding his holy cross closely to his chest, he wondered more in himself with a somber expression across his face, taking a brief glance at his surroundings, and then focusing on his hands again, wishing and hoping to get an answer back from the Lord.

"Haaaah, I want to sleep," he said, letting out a tired sigh before yawning softly. As he rubs his eyes from fatigue, he stretches his muscles with slow and subtle movements, loosening them for the task ahead. Standing up straight, the boy stared upwards, noticing the clouds beginning to darken even further than they already were. It seems that a storm is approaching.

Still firmly holding his crucifix, Seth headed down the building with weary eyes glued around in case there were hidden threats in his vicinity, watching the endless snowfall intensify slightly. The winds around him grew stronger too, causing him to shiver involuntarily while breathing out puffs of smoke every time he exhaled.

The area of this city is a paradise for the homeless, although it is quiet and lifeless aside from a few individuals that roam around occasionally but never bother anyone regardless. There's barely any social interaction with anyone here, for there is a rule that people like him must follow.

Never trust anyone; expect anyone to try killing each other on the spot. This city, or the frozen world in itself, is not a safe haven, nor is it a friendly place either. He understands that well—very well, in fact, since this is the land of the damned. Everything is cold, but never truly dead.

Even though there's a scarce amount of resources around—water, food, and clothes that are mostly from the trash—Seth somehow manages to find enough food to survive for many days without starving. Even though there isn't anything good around or left behind, it's better than dying.

Reaching down from the rooftop, the streets were littered with debris and wreckage. Its buildings are in various stages of decay and disrepair, and the once-lifeless sections of the city are now eerily lifeless. Its roads are filled with the remnants of cars that are twisted and broken, and the sidewalks are covered with snowy debris from fallen buildings and stores. Even though the infrastructure has been ravaged by weather, time, and a lack of maintenance, the once-busy streets are now a shadow of their former selves.

Clutching his cross close, he continued walking down the street, glancing from his sides and back to see if there was anyone present, but nobody was around. Not a soul is to be found, for it was completely empty except for himself. With the exception of the occasional sounds coming from within the destroyed structures around him, there was almost silence.

He's been here for a year, and he's gotten used to his surroundings and everything; he's used to seeing these wretched ruins and the directions of where to go if things go south. It is rare to see someone else because everyone here prefers to run away instead of meeting each other face-to-face.

He likes it that way. Seth is never the type to engage in conversation since there's no one who could relate anyway; there's no point in trying to reach out when people will keep hurting him more and more; the scars on his mind are a reminder of that.

Most people are selfish, while few are caring or honest; this is the only thing he has learned about humanity thus far. But his adopted father had told him to see the good in others and treat them kindly, for God will bless those who do good deeds for their fellow man.

At first, Seth questioned why he should. And what would the benefit be from doing something that might cause him more pain? He tried doing it, though, and it didn't do much other than them shooing him away because he was bothering them or mocking his efforts to befriend them.

So he stopped altogether.

This is what people are like: they do bad and pretend that they are good or claim to do it for others, but he knows their true nature. It was what made them hurt him. No matter what Seth tries, he can't change the world, and neither can he change them. All he can do is fight against it, but even then, it's hopeless.

"There has to be some food around here," his stomach growled in protest at the lack of nourishment. It has been more than three days since he last ate something. And the last meal he had was a couple pieces of candy wrappers from some dead kid, so it wasn't a good taste overall. The chocolate bar tasted awful since it was melted inside.

Those were his first memories of eating sweets; they aren't all that great compared to regular meals that contain the necessary nutrients needed for his body to function properly. And Seth can feel his muscles weakening gradually.

Skinny and malnourished—that is what he has become over time. A frail boy has to eat rotten or disgusting food to survive, but it is enough for him to keep going forward for another day. Still, it's difficult to search around with most places already being scavenged by others, especially when he has to worry about getting killed in the process.

Everything here is dangerous, be it animals or other people; survival comes before anything else. Hunger always becomes his companion, whether Seth likes it or not, but he can't allow it to overcome him, for his life depends on it.

Because of the encouraging words that the priest gave him, the boy wishes to live at least as long as he can before everything ends. He wants to see where the future lies ahead and where the path will take him if he continues down this road. The possibilities are limitless.

Stopping in his tracks and placing the crucifix at his own face, he shuts his eyes tightly while pressing it against his forehead, as if it's a barrier that protects him from whatever may happen. Seth is hoping that God will hear him, bringing himself some false hope of finding solace from this frozen landscape.

His right hand remained clenched upon the cross, gripping it fiercely. "Oh Lord, please give me strength to keep going, so that I may see what awaits me." He spoke aloud while lowering the blessed artifact downward. Taking in a breath before letting it out through his mouth and nostrils, a small cloud of vapor emitted from both The coldness feels intense on his skin, but his spirit remains warm within.

It feels good to believe in something bigger than oneself. To have faith in something other than one's self. It gives him the motivation to keep going. Like a motivator telling him to push himself harder, a friend telling him everything is going to be okay, or a parent telling their child that they're loved. It's all comforting, albeit uncertain if God is real to begin with.

Just then, loud gunshots and yelling can be heard from afar. Snapping out of his own thoughts and daze, Seth rushed to a nearby alleyway while hiding behind a wall. Peeking through the corner of his eyes, he witnesses a large group of men he recognized from the get-go.

"The Illuminati," his mumbling to himself while remembering their existence, the men wear green armor that covers their entire bodies from head to toe and carry futuristic firearms. "They sometimes come here to cleanse the homeless or kidnap them for experimentation," dreading to even think of what those people do to them, Seth kept his distance away from those sorts.

His body trembled in fear of facing them; it doesn't matter if they are several feet away; there's always a chance they might spot him, even if it's from afar. His heart is beating rapidly, like a drum against his ribcage, if his adrenaline starts rushing through his veins. Sweat formed all over his entire appearance, with nervousness appearing on his facial features, and he swallowed deeply.

All he can do is wait for them to pass like usual; there is nothing to be afraid of, right? Seth has been doing this every week, and it's a part of daily life; they'll leave eventually. Why are they here anyway? Most importantly, what do they plan to do? They usually don't venture here, especially in the parts where he is currently residing.

Remaining in his spot, he prayed for God to help him survive this encounter unscathed. Begging in his mind for protection from those who wish to harm him Praying for strength, courage,  wisdom, guidance, and the chance to live another day.

Surely, he is not going to die. Because it never happens when the boy keeps his composure together, that is what life told him to do; one shouldn't panic or they'll end up doing something stupid that can lead to their demise. Being level-headed is crucial in this sort of situation.

Minutes pass by and they haven't moved, just standing around, speaking amongst themselves with weapons ready, and looking around in case there's danger nearby. Some are laughing at others' jokes while patrolling the area. He is at the mercy of their vision; they have the advantage.

However, he managed to calm down for a moment in order to focus entirely on what to do next. Seth is one hundred percent sure he is definitively going to live, that he won't die or, worse, be tortured again. Who knows what'll happen if these guys notice him in such a vulnerable position?

For what felt like hours, he decided to take another peek, only to accidentally step on broken glass, causing these men to turn their heads towards the noise that came from his direction. With wide eyes, he immediately froze, frightened of what they would do.

They fired without hesitation, forcing them to run deeper into the alleyway filled with trash and debris on the floor, managing to dodge the incoming bullets in the process as they collided against the walls or crashed on the ground. Crouching underneath a metal crate, he made him crawl forward as the projectiles continued whizzing past the boy's ears.

In between his fingers, there are small cuts covering them as crimson liquid trickled down his hands from scraping against sharp rocks and scattered pieces of glass. The stinging sensation sent jolts throughout his nerves, and he let out a low yelp due to the unpleasant sensation that plagued him.

With the crucifix still in his hand, he refused to let it go under any circumstances and used it as motivation to keep moving forward. Seth had to escape those soldiers, and he will do so at any cost necessary. They have seen his face and could possibly capture him if he allowed them to.

Seeing a broken door on his left, he moved faster than before. His determination to live and faith in the Lord outweighed his cowardice for a split second, using the strength granted by God himself to push himself past his limits, reaching his destination and standing up. The boy then started to rush inside before shutting the door behind him.

Catching his breath for a few seconds, he wasted no time sprinting across the broken lobby of the hotel that's full of decayed corpses, though most of them are missing limbs or had their skulls smashed open. Their bones are on the ground with blood spattering on the floors and walls. He felt sick seeing this, but he has gotten used to it at this point.

Heading into a door that is for staff only, he nonetheless entered and saw an ascending set of stairs that likely leads to the rooftop, granting him the opportunity to escape, losing all sense of critical thinking from the panic he was feeling within his heart and soul.

So he ran up, hearing the soldiers far below trying to catch up with him as they yelled for the boy to stop. Reaching the top, Seth hastily opened the door and climbed up the ladder leading to the roof, climbing in a desperate attempt to reach the ledge where he would finally be safe.

Grabbing the ledge, the boy pulled himself up with all of his might and rolled onto the hard, rough surface of the rooftop. Standing up, he quickly looked around. The thundering storm began to rain heavily, with droplets of cold water hitting his hair, instantly getting soaked from the heavy downpour.

Carefully moving forward, he saw how far he was down from here, his eyes widening to see the height, for if he jumped or slipped, he would surely die from the fall. A scary image flashed within his mind, imagining what it'd be like if he died and hit the concrete ground. The impact is more than enough to kill him.

The door violently opened as a row of soldiers gathered in a horizontal line, pointing their guns and aiming directly at him with their sights. Their body language showed no emotion whatsoever before one of them yelled to put his hands up in the air where they could see.

"PUT YOUR FUCKING HANDS UP!"

Gulping, he slowly turned around while the rain continued to violently pour upon the rooftops. He closed his eyes as tears mixed with the precipitation, beginning to trickle down his face. His lips trembled as his entire frame shook in horror. He silently wept while awaiting whatever fate awaited him.

That never came when he felt himself slipping from the slipper floor, resulting in his horrified expression becoming more terrified and shock when he began to fall from the high edge. His scream echoed throughout the vast area as the soldiers watched in disbelief on what had transpired.

Closing his eyes, the wind and harsh droplets from the sky have struck against his cheeks repeatedly while his hand still held his beloved cross. The boy begged God for forgiveness and a second chance for himself, a second chance to start anew.

His world was met with a loud, crashing sound onto the concrete floor, where his body impacted hard upon the icy ground as his vision went completely blank, disappearing into a void of peace and serenity, oblivious to his surroundings; even his consciousness was lost.

"Someone...save me..."

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