-Alice P.O.V.-

I stirred, beams of morning light streaming through the window down on my face. Normally, I’m up even before the dawn. The nightmares were always too much to deal with for one steady night of sleep.

But these days, I found that a few treasured moonlight adventures through my dreams blessedly found their way through without being haunted by fear.

Before the fall I didn’t truly appreciate the plight of the insomniacs of the world. For all the annoyances the old world had brought me, a lack of sleep wasn’t one of them.

Okay… maybe a little bit, but late night projects didn’t count. At least I could have slept if I wanted too. These last few months were plagued with frightful visions and half-remembered truths that my subconscious had conjured left me battered through every day. I’d thrown myself into hunting biotics, carefully at first, and then more and more recklessly as the days wore on. With my trusted bow and arrow at my side, I have to say that I was very good at killing them.

But, what were a few tens, a few dozens a week when there were hordes of wolves hundreds of creatures deep? I’d only ever heard of them and seen the evidence of their passing, but it was clear to me that there was only so much one measly quiver of arrows could do.

The creeping desperation in those days haunted my every movement. It wasn’t like I was killing them with no reason. I needed to get to my family, at least to find out what happened. Did they… go away? Did their city… the same thing that happened to Damond with a meteor strike? Where they still there?

Even now I dance around the possibility. I couldn’t bring myself to consider that they might be de-

I flipped off of my bed so fast that it felt like my brain jarred in my skull. Vigorously shaking my head and slapping my cheeks hard enough that the sound echoed back to me from across the room, stopping the thoughts in my head. The stinging sensation reminded me I was alive.

Automatically, I moved to the shelf with matches hidden in a green celtic tinder-box. They weren’t mine, just someone elses who likely weren’t around anymore. I cradled them gently, “Thanks again.” I spoke metaphorically to the person who these once belonged to. It was only right to give thanks where it was due, and at least using someone else’s stuff should count.

I moved over to the dozen candles, each a different color. The wall around it had been entirely covered in pictures of smiling people. I’d collected them with the fervor of someone broken inside, and to be frank, I was very, very broken when I snatched these. Probably still am.

It had been one of the gloomier days, a sheaf of heavy cloud cover shrouded our stretch of land and once prosperous city of Gilramore, letting only the dimmest of light guide hunters like myself across the land. Just as I had most every day before, I hunted biotics, looked for food to forage, attempted to figure out if there was some miracle that I could exploit to get home. Maybe I’d find some super badass out here that I could convince in some way to help me get there. At the time I’d begun to outfit myself with some new gear, tentatively using the Obelisk to arm myself. I’d needed a new bowstring, some arrows since mine weren’t exactly great when I made them, and testing the thing wasn’t a bad idea. If I was very lucky, perhaps I could use the Obelisk to become that super badass that I was looking for, make my own way out into the wilds and get to my home.

Most of the time I avoided hunting larger groups, but I wanted to put some of the special things I’d picked up to the ultimate test.

When I stumbled upon the five wolves, I thought it was rather good luck, not too many, something that I could possibly deal with even before with a little luck and ingenuity.

The rumble of undergrowth disturbed my hunt, and the sudden attack on the wolves left me stunned. At first I almost spat out in anger that they were mine to hunt, and was going to slap whoever stole my kills silly.

If it were a person, that would have been fine. The only reason I’m alive today, I’m sure, is because I hesitated in speaking out. My mom raised me to consider my words when I was angry carefully, because they couldn’t be taken back, a valuable lesson, one that had saved my life.

Since any noise at that moment would have resulted in my own death.

They surged forward, a strange amalgamation of bone and limbs woven together at their waists in a grotesque tapestry of violence in motion. A dozen wolves darted forward, pulling the mass behind them, even more of them behind the advancing wave, snarling and twitching as they pulled the main form inexorably forward. The biotics didn’t respond fast enough, maybe it was shock, maybe they weren’t certain if the biotics were enemies or not, or just maybe they were like me; frozen in place in mute, numb terror.

It was their doom. The first wolves bit into three of them, and the remaining two advanced to attack instead of flee. The wolves never fled, and that was their end. They were surrounded, bitten into. Rear legs were torn free with shaking heads, one of the free wolves had bitten a mass of guts that had been woven into and from one of the mass. It bled, silvery grey goop falling to the ground. The injury was ignored, and instead the other wolf found its midsection bitten at the middle, severing jaws clipping straight through spine like a pair of scissors through paper.

Immobilized, the wolves could only wait for death, in whatever form it would take. I couldn’t breath, cold sweat and dilated pupils taking in the scene for what it was; a look into hell. The figure looked like a cruel parody of a human as it unfurled multiple limbs, hooks and claws working from multi-jointed arms cruelly and efficiently. Other tubes like looked almost like hoses pulsed and wriggled disgustingly like black matte tar beside it as it cleaved out excessive organs. Just before the wolf perished, it shoved several tubes into it, some of them being carefully attached while others seemed to shove deeper. Even before the work was done, the thing had the next subject moved before it, the previous one now convulsing violently.

As it moved onto it’s third grizzly weaving project, the first rose, twitching as it slunk back into the mass, taking up its place among the rest. I vaguely noticed the twinge of the Obelisk system as it declared something about a calamity type Unique, but I didn’t dare take my eyes from the abomination before me. It was a dreadful kind of thing that I couldn’t look away from, it possessed every ounce of my built up terror and fear. It crawled into my mind and festered. As much as I wanted to flee, I didn’t dare do so, the hollow eyes of that weaver methodically exploiting biotic flesh rooted me in place. I didn’t know if I could outrun that.

All I know is that if I failed, I would just be project six.

It retracted its body then, moving back out and further away, continuing its terrible parade to another unwilling congregation.

All I remember is blacking out from not breathing, then waking up and sprinting home. It was a blur, possibly a few days of crazed collecting that gradually got me back from shattered to only just fractured.

This wall was the result, families smiling, together, a goodness that acted as my shield against the darkness festering. It still hadn’t been enough, and I don’t know if I could have gone on. Fran and Daniel had caught me at a very pivotal point in my life. I could still see the check marks on the wall in some places, just an edge here or there. Those were my guide, my days in new world, my kill count, any number of other things tracked.

It didn’t suit me, this did. I was a happy person, damnit, I was an archery club A-Team member and proud of it. I was not some psychopath that enjoyed this crap. As I’d done whenever I was angry, I breathed it out, breathed in some freshness in the form of a ton of candles, and forced a smile on my face. I beamed, radiant as I could, and looked at the pictures. I remembered moments in my life that mimicked the ones I saw, the time when my little brother pitched a fast ball into my ribs, and the ensuing wrestling match that followed. The time when I was helping to bake a cake with my older sister when I blasted the kitchen with a bag full of flour.

Public service announcement on that note; don’t ramp a mixer to maximum speed when most of your ingredients are still dry, even with the egg and milk on top. You’re welcome.

Or the time when my eldest brother was in the hospital. He’d come close to dying from his stubbornness - we’d all told him that’d be the death of him someday, but I spent every waking second wishing that away as we sat around his bed - from some complex infection that had started from a scratch. If he hadn’t finally decided he wasn’t getting better and his roommate hadn’t dragged him to the ER, I would have lost him then.

Now, he switched majors into becoming a doctor, go figure.

I wondered how they were all doing now. The thought of them going away never crossed my thoughts as I looked at the picture before me, each member of my family together. Happy.

I stretched, loose fitting clothes hugging my athletic body, only made more so with all of my activities. I still somehow maintained a bit of my girlish air, frustratingly so. As I admired myself, especially the six pack that was clearly defined against my skin. Not quite so without scars as I was a year ago, but nevertheless quite smooth all considered.

My arms though, I had some serious torque there now, and my back and shoulder muscles were firm, built for repetition. I could fire a bow and arrow for hours and not get tired. I could run far longer than I used to be able to, several miles, and if I paced myself I’m pretty sure I could go for hours without pushing.

One by one, I pulled on my clothes, padded for a little bit more protection, a touch of fashion, and to serve as a barrier between me and my new toy. Late last night, in a flight of fancy, or frenzy, I upgraded my gear. My beaming smile was honest and full as I touched the graceful, elegant design. It seemed more suited for a dancer, but that was fine, I needed a full range of motion, light weight. I needed it to pack a punch and help me move. After all, if I could outrun my fears, harry them down, destroy them all the while, then what would I truly have to fear?

“Oh, crap!” I blanched, realizing the sun had krept quite a bit higher up the horizon, and my O.Gem (that thing on the back of my hand that the obelisk had embedded) had a message from Matthew to meet up. He was an interesting enough kinda person, struck me as a little too on the edgy and broody side. But, he cared, and he had a mind for vicious tactics to destroy biotics. I didn’t know much about him, really, nor did I know why he so single minded pursued killing biotics. I didn’t know him before his whole Reaper gig, except in passing, but I did think it was an improvement. He was nice and he faced down Wolven without batting an eye, and he was the first one into the dark mines with some crazy biotics that could kill you with salt spears. Maybe he was just as scared underneath that armor but… the way he moved told me he was someone who was well accustomed to the concept of battle. He barely noticed his injuries, and if it weren’t for the fact that he genuinely cared about people I’d be afraid that he was a sociopath. I’m still sorting out exactly how I feel about the man. Fran and Daniel are awesome, though. And Terry is… well he’s okay so far, I’ve barely known him long enough to form an opinion on it.

“Maaaan, I’m gonna be soooo friggen’ late!” I pounced on my suit, quickly fitting pieces on as it began to automatically affix itself tighter, hugging my body perfectly along the spine and the outsides of my limbs.

I ran out the door in a dead sprint.

Aaand then ran back to grab my new bow and arrow quiver and blew out the candles, stealing one last glance at my altar of happiness, my old bow and arrow quiver resting at the base of it.

“Be home soon!” I called back as I slammed the door, wincing at the strength my new suit had, as I bounded downstairs.