Chapter 1

A/N:

Before you begin, I want to give a trigger warning. This story delves into heavy themes of self-worth, sacrifice, and the cost of power. It explores emotional turmoil, loss of identity, moral ambiguity, and difficult choices that may be unsettling. There are moments of violence, manipulation, and emotional distress that could be triggering for some readers. Please read with care and know that this is a dark, introspective journey. It’s a story about what it means to search for purpose, and the toll it takes when that search pushes us too far.

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Chapter 1: The Wasteland’s Shame

The sun hung low in the ash-choked sky, its weak light barely piercing through the murky haze that blanketed the world. The air reeked of decay, and the distant sounds of mutated beasts echoed like mournful cries. Arlen stood at the edge of the settlement, her thin frame trembling as she struggled to hoist a sack of supplies onto a cart. Her fingers, raw and blistered, fumbled uselessly before she let the sack drop to the ground with a defeated sigh.

“Get out of the way, Arlen,” a gruff voice barked. It was Marlow, the leader of the scavenging crew. He was a large man with calloused hands and a permanent scowl, a figure who demanded respect. “If you’re not gonna help, at least don’t slow us down.”

Arlen flinched but didn’t argue. She stepped aside, her face burning with shame as the others loaded the cart with practiced ease. Their movements were quick and efficient, a stark contrast to her clumsy, useless attempts.

The people of the settlement worked like parts of a machine, each one contributing to the survival of the whole. Farmers tended the sparse crops that barely grew in the poisoned soil. Scavengers ventured into the ruins, risking life and limb to bring back supplies. Fighters patrolled the perimeter, keeping the beasts and raiders at bay.

And then there was Arlen. Weak. Fragile. A drain on resources.

She tried to help—she really did. But her body betrayed her at every turn. Her lungs burned after the smallest exertion, her hands shook with fatigue, and illness clung to her like a shadow. She had been born frail, and no amount of determination could change that.

That night, as the others celebrated a successful scavenging trip around a crackling fire, Arlen sat on the outskirts, hugging her knees to her chest. She could hear their laughter, the camaraderie in their voices, and it only deepened the ache in her chest.

“Hey,” a voice called out, startling her. She turned to see Dara, one of the younger scavengers, approaching with a small bowl of stew. “You should eat.”

Arlen hesitated before taking the bowl, mumbling a quiet, “Thank you.”

Dara crouched beside her, her tone gentle but firm. “You’re too hard on yourself, you know. Not everyone’s cut out to swing swords or haul supplies. You’ll find your way.”

Arlen forced a weak smile, but the words rang hollow. She wanted to believe Dara, but the weight of her guilt and inadequacy was suffocating.

After Dara left, Arlen stared at the stew, her appetite gone. She thought of the countless nights she had sat in this same spot, feeling the same crushing sense of failure. If this was all her life would ever be—a burden to others—*then what was the *point?

As she gazed into the fire, a snippet of a conversation from earlier resurfaced in her mind.

“Did you hear about the ruins beyond the Dead Plains?” one of the scavengers had said. “They say there’s something powerful out there, something that could change everything.”

Arlen’s fingers tightened around the bowl as the memory of the scavengers’ conversation lingered in her mind. She shook her head, trying to dismiss it, but it was no use. The words had planted a seed. Power. Something that could change everything.

The fire cracked and popped, pulling her from her thoughts. Across the courtyard, the scavengers laughed and swapped stories about the day’s haul. Marlow, as usual, was the loudest among them.

“Did you see her trying to lift that sack earlier?” he bellowed, his deep voice carrying over the crackle of the flames. “Nearly tripped over her own feet! It’s a miracle she hasn’t snapped in half yet!”

The group erupted into laughter. Arlen’s cheeks burned as she hunched further into herself, praying they wouldn’t notice her.

“She’s lucky we don’t count dead weight as a liability,” another scavenger chimed in. “Out there, she wouldn’t last five minutes.”

“Five minutes?” Marlow barked. “Generous. I’d give her two.”

The laughter was like daggers to Arlen’s chest. She knew they didn’t mean for her to hear—or maybe they did—but it didn’t matter. The words stuck to her like tar, heavy and suffocating.

She lowered the bowl of stew to the ground, her appetite completely gone now. Dara’s kind words felt like distant echoes, drowned out by the ridicule that clawed at her mind. She wrapped her arms around her knees, trying to make herself as small as possible.

This wasn’t the first time she’d been the subject of their mockery. It had been like this for as long as she could remember. Whenever she failed at a task—whether it was carrying supplies, scavenging, or even trying to help with simple repairs—there were always whispers. Sometimes they were pitying, other times cruel.

“She’s useless.”

“She’s just a mouth to feed.”

“Why does she even bother?”

The worst part was that Arlen agreed with them. She couldn’t blame the others for feeling that way when she felt it too. Every day, she woke up with the same gnawing guilt, the same overwhelming sense of failure.

She tried to help. She wanted to be useful, to belong, to mean something. But her body betrayed her at every turn. The simplest tasks left her breathless and trembling. Her hands, thin and frail, couldn’t grip tools properly. Her muscles ached after the slightest strain.

It wasn’t just her physical weakness that weighed on her. It was the way people looked at her—or didn’t. Most avoided her altogether, as if her presence was a reminder of what they feared most: helplessness.

The children didn’t play near her. The adults didn’t seek her out for conversation. Even the elders, who were too frail to contribute much themselves, seemed to pity her in a way that made her stomach churn.

“Don’t worry about them,” her father had told her once, years ago, when she was just a child. “You have a kind heart, Arlen. That’s worth more than anything.”

But her father was gone now, taken by the same sickness that had left her so weak. And a kind heart, it seemed, wasn’t enough to keep the world from falling apart.

That night, as the campfire burned low and the others began to drift off to sleep, Arlen stayed where she was, staring into the dying embers. Her mind raced with thoughts she couldn’t suppress.

She didn’t want to be like this anymore. She didn’t want to be a burden, a failure, a source of ridicule and pity. She wanted to prove them all wrong—Marlow, the scavengers, even herself. She wanted to show them she wasn’t just the sickly girl they all thought she was.

Her gaze lifted to the horizon, where the ash-choked sky met the jagged ruins in the distance. The Dead Plains.

The idea of leaving the settlement was terrifying. The wasteland beyond was filled with dangers—mutated creatures, raiders, and who knew what else. But if she stayed, she’d only continue to rot in this shell of a life.

She thought again of the rumor she’d overheard: something powerful beyond the Dead Plains. Something that could change everything.

A lump formed in her throat as she clenched her fists. She didn’t know what she’d find out there, but it didn’t matter. She would push herself to the very edge if it meant proving she was more than this. If it meant finding a purpose.

For the first time in years, Arlen felt a spark of determination. It was faint and fragile, but it burned nonetheless.

She stood, her legs unsteady beneath her. The fire had burned out completely now, leaving the settlement in darkness. Arlen turned toward her small corner of the camp, knowing she needed to rest if she was going to leave at dawn.

But as she walked away, Marlow’s words echoed in her mind once more.

“Dead weight.”

Arlen clenched her jaw. She wouldn’t let those words define her anymore.

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