Chapter 3: Rhythm of the Hollow

 

“She barely speaks anymore, Arick. Have you even looked at her? Really looked at her?" A familiar voice whispers.

"I’ve looked. But what can I do? She’s back, isn’t she? Alive." staring at the table where Aria’s untouched meal sits. The voice although low, was definitely her father.

"Alive? Is that what you call this? She’s hollow. She’s not the same child brought back from the Council.” That must be mother. A voice low and vaguely memorable.

"What do you want me to do, Vera? March into the Council chamber and demand answers?” Arick responds. You know how that ends. We can’t afford to draw attention to ourselves—not now."

"Not now? Then when? When they drag her back for interrogation?” Vera said.

“You want Aria overhearing this? You think she needs more reasons to rebel? If she stirs up trouble, the Council will make her disappear. You know this." Arick trying his best to not get emotional.

"I don’t care how it works! They drugged her, locked her away for months—and for what? To fabricate some story about ‘outcasts’? It’s a lie, Eli. And we’re complicit by staying quiet." Vera says, raising her voice.

"Keep your voice…” He looks up at a silent Aria near the staircase. “..down.”

“Oh honey, go back to bed” Vera says, swiftly hugging her only child.

“Are you talking about the shadow men?” Aria responds tiredly.

“Oh Hun” Vera’s voice cracks, looking back at Arick.

“There’s no such thing remember darling” Arick responds.

“But I sa-” Arick bangs the table before Aria gets another word out.

“That’s enough!” he says. Aria visibly startled, he slowly shrinks back “That’s enough…please.”

Vera hugging Aria tightly comforts her. “It’s ok my love, shush. It’s ok. Just go back to bed, I’ll be right there.” Aria goes back upstairs into her bedroom.

“Don’t you get it? It’s not just about us anymore—it’s about her survival. If you push too hard, they’ll come for her again. Or worse, they’ll come for all of us." Arick says. His voice cracks slightly, betraying the fear he tries to hide.

"So that’s it, then? We tiptoe around their rules and hope they don’t notice us? That’s how we survive?" Mira unsatisfied with his responses.

"Yes, Mira! That’s how we survive. It’s unfair and it’s cruel, but it’s the only way. I won’t lose her—not to the labyrinth, not to the Council."

Quietly, but firmly Vera says "It’s seems we already have." But this time her face is distorted, eyes glowing as darkness surrounds her. Resembling a creature from the shadows.

Aria wakes in a cold sweat. She wishes it was a dream or—even a nightmare, but it was a memory. One of the last few of her mother. As she grumbled and slammed her alarm, she rolls out of bed to start her routine.

The morning began as always, beneath the shimmering salt-encrusted dome that crowned the Core like a false haven. The air buzzed faintly with the hum of UV ward generators and desalination turbines. Aria adjusted the brine filters on her sleeves, muttering curses under her breath at the sting of salt corrosion on her boots. It was impossible to avoid; everything here decayed. The salt was alive, creeping into the leather, into the gears, into the very skin.

It had been sixteen years since she’d stumbled into the labyrinth as a child, clutching a story no one believed. Sixteen years of hunger, of exile within the very place she called home—the Core, humanity’s last stronghold.

Life in the Core was ruled by routine—a calculated machine designed to keep the residents alive but powerless. The Council called it "unity"; the survivors whispered a different word—"control”.

As residents lined up for their daily ration of water and food, surveillance drones drifted overhead, their faint blue hue watching every move. The queue snaked through the central square, where monuments told the Council’s version of history: mankind victorious against the darkness, the labyrinth as their salvation. Aria scoffed quietly. She could still recall scavenged stories from forgotten corners of the labyrinth, tales of how this haven was built upon treachery and sacrifice—not heroism.

As she made the silent pilgrimage to the water station, ration pouch in hand. The rationer didn’t look her in the eye. No one did. The Council’s propaganda posters loomed in the square, their edges curling with the creeping salt: “Unity Above All.” The slogan offered little comfort to those who lived at the margins, brine-soaked and broken. Routine was supposed to mean order, safety, survival. But for Aria, it was a chain.

“You on patrol today?” Efrain, the rationer, spoke in a low grumble.

“I know guards get an extra ration but this weeks supply is low. So you’ll be getting the same shares as everyone else.”

“That’s fine.” Aria snaps. She snatches the rations and slings the bag over her, leaving with haste before the whispers accumulate.

They muttered that her stories brought misfortune. “The girl who cried wolf”, “Shadow girl”, “Witch”, but “The Wolf”….that one stuck. A complicated nickname. Growing up she was fierce but The Core has tamed her. She learned that the hard way. One Council order and their home or person could shift out of existence. But that was a risk she along with everyone else learned to live with. By noon, most of them worked in Core maintenance, scrubbing salt corrosion from pipes or repairing UV defenses against intrusions. Aria, a guard and a scavenger in secret, had other tasks.

After that her patrol began. The defense force had accepted her reluctantly—her one chance to prove her worth, though she now wondered if it had been a mistake. Her illusions of exploration, of uncovering secrets in the shifting depths of the labyrinth, had been crushed within days. The defense force did not venture into the labyrinth to learn its mysteries; but to suppress them. Exploration was practically forbidden.

The Core’s defenses remained rigid, a shield of rotating corridors, silver-dusted choke-points, and UV barriers designed to keep danger out—or perhaps in. Today’s patrol was in Sector Four, where salt decay gnawed at the walls like an unending hunger. The Council’s orders were clear: ensure the drones operated smoothly, report suspicious behavior, maintain order. Always maintain order.

Aria traced her fingers along the salt-streaked walls as she moved through the corridor, her boots crunching against the crystallized floor. Eyes avoided hers, shifting just enough to remind her that she did not belong.

“Aria ,” came the hiss of a voice behind her. Elias, her patrol partner, slid into step beside her. His tone was tight with urgency, but his words were barely audible over the distant hum of the desalination turbines. “I called you like three times, zoned out again?”

“Sorry” Aria replied.

“Whatever, anyway you hear the rumor? Tides shifting near the Core’s outer walls. They’re saying it’s not natural.” Elias a tall and brooding man. He doesn’t speak much to others but he’s particularly close with Aria, one of the few that secretly believe her tales.

She glanced at him sharply, her eyes narrowing. “What else would it be?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve seen it. You’ve said it yourself. You think the Council doesn’t have secrets buried out there?”

Aria didn’t respond. She knew better than to voice the thoughts that crowded her mind. The rumors always circled back to her, fueling the whispers. It was better to stay silent, but whispers always followed. Thinking back when children teased her about “Boogie man” and “Shadows”. She did her best to mask those memories.

“Let’s keep moving, were almost done.”

After patrol, she wandered to her favorite perch on the dome’s upper levels—a hidden alcove where algae glimmered brightest and the salt deposits formed intricate star-like patterns. Here she felt something resembling freedom, even if fleeting. From this height, she could see The Core and it’s walls glistening far below, the distant enclaves lit with faint hope. But beyond those walls was a truth waiting to be uncovered. One day, she will leave.