The red-haired girl, who called herself Elise, shifted her weight on the makeshift bench of stacked crates and set a plastic container on her lap. Her newly created food blocks were neatly arranged inside, each one emitting a soft, almost imperceptible glow, like warm embers in the falling dusk. Despite the tense hush that sometimes drifted in on the breeze, Elise worked with a quiet determination, her eyes flicking between her own handiwork and Davo's skilled hands. Whenever she finished placing a block, she would glance upward, a small smile playing at her lips as Davo formed another square of the same dense substance.
It struck Davo how natural she appeared in that moment: hair the color of autumn leaves catching the last remnants of sunlight, a faint glint in her pupils betraying the strange excitement of this new world. "So, you're Elise," he said, placing a freshly conjured block in her container. "Got a feeling you're going to put the rest of us to shame with all this practice."
She snorted, though it came out more amused than dismissive. "If you spent days holed up behind fences with nothing but stale crackers and a jerry-rigged radio, you'd be trying to conjure as much as possible too."
A few feet away, Emma sat cross-legged on the ground, surrounded by her own pile of half-finished blocks, each one bearing subtle differences in shape and texture. She looked up, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Any idea what's really happening out there?" Her tone was calm, but curiosity sharpened her gaze.
Elise let out a short laugh, the sound unexpectedly bright in the lingering late-afternoon shadows. "Local news? Not exactly. But the radio we had was picking up a few stray signals until it died a couple days ago—probably the last sputters of power. Most stations went dead the moment the power station blew, but a few were fighting to stay on-air. And let me tell you, the stuff they said? Wild."
Jane, busy folding thin, shimmering sheets of conjured cloth, paused just long enough to shoot Elise an expectant look. "How wild are we talking here? More than the usual talk about immortal folks trying to figure out life?"
Elise shrugged, sliding another block into the container. A distant streetlamp flickered, one of the few vestiges of old infrastructure that sometimes lit up unpredictably, casting a wavering glow across the group. "Well, they said the event pretty much knocked out everything—power, water, transport. With no one running the show, it all spiraled. The scraps of government that survived tried stepping in, but I guess it's not easy to boss folks around when they've figured out they're probably not going to die."
Davo gave a short chuckle, rummaging in a rusted tin for a battered measuring cup he'd found. "Motivation's a tricky thing. Suddenly immortality means you can't exactly threaten people with, well, anything. Plus, if you can conjure a roof over your head and enough food to live comfortably..."
"Exactly," Elise replied, focusing on stacking her container more efficiently. "From what the radio host said, there's basically a meltdown across the region. People are either holed up or forming little enclaves, trying to cope with the new normal. Some discovered these creation abilities, others didn't or won't believe it. And then there's the rumor mill: aliens, secret government projects, divine intervention—you name it."
"Aliens?" Emma echoed, arching an eyebrow. "That old chestnut?"
Elise's grin widened. "Oh, yeah. One station raved about lights in the sky and abducted farmers out in the countryside. Another insisted it was a hush-hush technology meant to 'cleanse the planet'—except it backfired, altering reality so we can bend matter with our minds."
Jane let out a theatrical sigh, neatly folding another cloth sheet. "That's hilarious. As if messing with the laws of physics is some minor inconvenience."
"People were calling in, spinning theories," Elise continued. "Heard a religious group claim it was a final test from above. Something about us needing to 'ascend through creation' or else be cast aside. Then another guy started shouting about a hidden cabal controlling everything, and how this was just the first phase of their plan to build a new utopia."
"So basically," Davo interjected, shaping a fresh block of food between his palms, "no one's got the slightest idea. Good to know the world's as clueless as we are."
Elise nodded, finishing her container with a crisp snap of the lid. "Yep. But at least we're doing something here, right?" She stood, stretching muscles stiff from crouching. The air carried a faint mix of damp earth, still-warm asphalt, and the lingering smoke from a nearby cooking fire. Beneath it all was the subtle scent of conjured material—like the barest hint of ozone. "Anyway, we can't count on the outside world being organized. We've got to figure out our little corner, and hopefully that's enough."
Emma glanced at the horizon, where the sun had dipped below the jagged rooftops, painting the sky in a wash of blood-orange and dusky lavender. "I worry about the folks who can't figure this out. They might end up exploited—or just left behind."
Jane, brushing away a smudge of dirt from her makeshift cloth squares, shrugged lightly. "Let's hope they find a teacher or two. Not everyone's as lucky as these guys"—she nodded at the fences behind them—"who decided to open up instead of cowering."
Davo crossed his arms, his expression tinged with cautious optimism. "All it takes is one person who knows what they're doing, I guess." He paused, casting his gaze around the mostly deserted street. Fragments of old posters fluttered on peeling walls, the stench of rotting garbage drifting from an alleyway. Every now and then, a gust of wind stirred the litter across cracked concrete, the noise startling small, rodent-like creatures that skittered away, eyes gleaming in the half-light. "As for us, might be time we called it a day," he said, though he wore a faint smirk that suggested he might not mind conjuring a few more blocks if asked.
Elise tapped the plastic container. "I should probably stash this," she said, lifting the makeshift bounty of food. Her tone turned wry. "Wouldn't want to tempt any hungry passersby to develop sticky fingers."
"Give them a demo," Davo teased. "Then they can conjure their own."
Elise snorted. "Yeah, I'll just pass out pamphlets on how to warp reality. That'll go over great with the crowd that still thinks this is witchcraft or an alien conspiracy."
Emma's gaze flicked back to Elise, a thoughtful curve to her smile. "On that note, any more pearls of wisdom from those radio crackpots?"
Elise laughed, recalling a particular broadcast. "One guy was convinced we'd all start having telekinetic battles in the streets. He said if we didn't form 'telepathy councils' soon, the 'energy meltdown' would rip our dimension apart. Sounded so sure, too—like he had data or something."
Jane wagged a finger in faux seriousness. "Telepathy councils. We must start one immediately. I nominate Davo as supreme telepathic officer."
"Hard pass," Davo retorted, grinning. "I've got enough on my plate figuring out how to shape dinner without lumps."
Elise let out a light sigh, scanning the dimly lit street. Already, the sky was a deeper purple, the edges of the crumbling buildings just silhouettes. "I guess we're all just stumbling around in the dark," she said quietly. "Still, better than what came before, right?"
Davo nodded, his gaze drifting toward the nearest flicker of lamplight in the distance. "Yeah," he murmured, voice holding an undercurrent of uncertainty. "Let's hope."
--
The dusty road stretched ahead, veiled by a soft haze that drifted over the cracked asphalt. Once, this had been a bustling artery of commerce and daily life, filled with honking cars and the vibrant chatter of people rushing to jobs or errands. Now, it lay in silence, littered with bits of broken glass, twisted scraps of metal, and the skeletal remains of rusted-out vehicles left to decay in the open air. The occasional gust of wind stirred up clouds of fine grit, turning the street into a pale swirl that caught the waning evening light.
Only the soft hum of conjured lamps offered any sign of renewed life: poles, glowing gently at their tips. That pale, ethereal glow pushed back the creeping dark, illuminating a scene otherwise lost to the gloom. The faint smell of warm dust and concrete hung in the air, mingling with the subtle metallic tang that often accompanied their newly conjured creations.
Davo trudged at the front, his boots leaving faint prints in the layer of sandy debris coating the road. Every so often, he would pause to kick a pebble aside, sending it skittering off into the shadows with a quick, echoing clatter. "You ever think about how weird it is?" he asked, not bothering to glance back. His voice resonated in the stillness, carrying easily to Jane and Emma. "Walking down roads like this? It's like someone pressed the big cosmic pause button and forgot to tell us."
Jane, who walked in the middle, flicked a stray piece of rubble with the tip of her shoe. "Weird doesn't even begin to cover it," she said. There was a playful edge to her tone, but a glint of unease lingered in her gaze. "It's downright creepy—like one of those old post-apocalyptic movies, except we're the starring cast who never asked for the role."
Emma brought up the rear, her satchel bumping against her side with each measured step. The conjured lights picked out the highlights in her hair, revealing subtle hints of color and depth that flickered whenever she moved. "Creepy, sure," she agreed, her tone carrying a steadiness that belied her own reservations, "but I also think it's deliberate. Nothing about this event seems random."
Davo slowed, turning his head so the faint glow revealed the curious set of his brow. "You're saying there's a grand scheme behind it all?" he asked. "Like a puppet master with cosmic strings?"
Emma exhaled, adjusting her satchel more securely. She noticed how the wind teased at the strands of hair escaping her makeshift ponytail, carrying the faint smell of distant fires—someone, somewhere, burning trash to keep warm, perhaps. "Not necessarily a puppet master," she replied, "but there are too many patterns to ignore. Think about it: we're all invulnerable now. People don't age, and the elderly are getting younger by the day. We can feed ourselves with basically no infrastructure. And half the weapons out there just… don't work anymore. Doesn't that strike you as a little too tidy?"
Jane kicked a loose piece of metal that might once have been part of a car door, sending a dull clang echoing through the night. "Tidy. I like that." She gestured with her chin at a twisted rifle resting against a broken wall, left behind by someone who'd realized its uselessness. "At first, I figured it was part of the event, but the more I see, the more it feels like someone's editing out the uglier parts of humanity."
A low whistle escaped Davo's lips. "So we might be stuck in some twisted alien lab experiment?" he said, half-joking. "Maybe we're the rats in a cosmic maze, and they're watching us scramble around."
Emma shrugged, her footsteps producing soft crunches in the dust. "Call it what you want, but there's something purposeful about all of this. We might be focusing on creative abilities and immortality, but I doubt it ends there."
Jane cast a quick grin over her shoulder. "On the bright side, not worrying about bullets is a major plus. I can finally stroll around without thinking I'll catch a stray round from some panicked looter."
They shared a laugh, the sound oddly warm in a place so empty and cold. It rose into the still air, bouncing off the skeletal remains of abandoned buildings to either side. As the laughter tapered off, the hush returned, leaving only the steady hum of conjured lights and the whisper of the wind swirling dust across the road.
After a moment of walking in thoughtful silence, Davo cleared his throat. "So all this speculation is great, but we're not going to solve the mysteries of the universe by wandering around old highways. I'm more into doing something." He paused and kicked another pebble. "For instance, teaching people to conjure. Every time we show someone how to do it, we learn a bit more ourselves. It's like the best feedback loop ever invented."
Jane slipped her hands into the pockets of her pants, one corner of her mouth twitching. "Teaching, huh? You trying to start a movement or something?"
Emma's gaze shifted to one of the conjured lamps they were passing. The gentle glow revealed spiderweb cracks in the building behind it, the remains of old graffiti peeking from beneath chipped paint. "It's not a bad idea. The more people who can handle themselves—food, water, simple shelter—the less chaos we'll see. And if we can lighten up some corners of this city, maybe it won't feel so... abandoned."
A breeze gusted up, carrying the acrid scent of long-forgotten fuel and the faint aroma of something unidentifiable—decay or perhaps an old sewer line. Davo wrinkled his nose. "We definitely need to do more than just talk. Having everyone able to feed themselves might help them focus on bigger things. You know, like rebuilding in a half-sane manner."
Jane arched a brow. "Bigger things like what exactly, Professor Davo?"
He flashed a grin, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I leave the long-term planning to the boss lady." He jerked a thumb Emma's way. "She's the one who keeps a level head about this weird cosmic jigsaw puzzle we're living in."
Emma rolled her eyes, though an affectionate smirk tugged at her lips. "Oh, I'm the boss lady now? Great. In that case, the plan is pretty straightforward: tomorrow, we go around, see who's open-minded, and teach them the basics. Food, water, maybe a few small items. Start small, see how it goes."
Jane slowed her steps, half-turning to face Emma as they walked. "So we basically become traveling conjurer-teachers? Sounds like fun. Sign me up."
A small but genuine smile warmed Emma's features. "At least we'll feel like we're doing something that matters."
They continued on, passing rows of toppled fences and empty storefronts with shattered windows, the glimmer of their conjured poles reflecting off shards of broken glass. The space where crowds of people once shopped or commuted home after long days now lay eerily hollow, the hush punctuated only by the faint rustle of wind through sagging awnings.
Davo inhaled the dusty night air, glancing at the subtle red glow seeping through the cracks of a distant building. Someone, somewhere, was burning something for heat. Or perhaps it was a cooking fire. "We'd better keep an eye on how many people we teach, though. Don't want to trigger a feeding frenzy."
"True," Emma said, stepping carefully over a pile of rubble. "But at least a feeding frenzy of conjured food is better than a real one. The real question is, how do we stop any idiots from taking advantage of it?"
Jane shrugged. "One thing at a time. Let's get them conjuring. Maybe once they can feed themselves, they won't need to exploit others."
Davo gave an approving nod. "We can dream. And hey, if that radio chatter is to be believed, the rest of the world is either as clueless as we are or losing its mind. Might as well get ahead of the curve."
Emma responded with a thoughtful hum, eyes flicking to a battered signpost leaning precariously at an intersection. The letters had long since faded, leaving only faint outlines that hinted at a once-thriving area. Another gust of wind rattled the sign, producing a hollow metallic clank that echoed down the empty crossroad.
They walked on in companionable silence for a while, the battered city unraveling around them like a tapestry of forgotten memories. Occasionally, the trio had to step around stray animals with glowing eyes, their footsteps causing the creatures to scuttle into alleyways or behind broken cars. The conjured lights continued to glow steadfastly, marking the path forward like beacons of hope in the gloom.
The main road bordering the slum stretched out like a silent frontier, where the flickering radiance of a hopeful community clashed with the yawning darkness of the greater city. Once, this boundary would have thrummed with honking cars and the glow of headlights, but now the asphalt lay bare, littered with shards of broken glass and tattered remnants of old advertising banners. Where chaotic traffic once ruled, there was only the crunch of footsteps and the distant clamor of a place reborn.
Davo led the small group—Emma and Jane flanking him—toward the glowing pulse of the slum, each step stirring up thin clouds of dust that rose and fell in the faint moonlight. Pockmarked buildings hemmed them in on either side, husks of a world that had once demanded so much of people's time and effort. Now they stood deserted, their windows gaping like unblinking eyes.
Ahead, the slum glowed as though some benevolent force had scattered stardust across its narrow alleys. Makeshift lights—conjured creations strapped to poles, rooftops, and even battered signposts—bathed the area in a shifting rainbow of colors. Between these vibrant lamps stood stalls overflowing with newly crafted goods: shimmering cloth, carved sculptures with softly pulsing veins of energy, and an ever-present array of conjured food blocks that bore only the simplest taste but endless utility.
Jane let out a low whistle as they drew closer. "All that's missing is a disco ball," she muttered, scanning the neon-like glow that painted the market stalls. Her eyes flicked over the swirling plumes of steam rising from impromptu food counters, where vendors served freshly conjured meals with a flourish. "Who knew we had so many artists in the slum?"
Emma, her gaze constantly roving, made a small sound of agreement. "Creativity thrives when people aren't consumed by survival," she said, her voice quiet yet resolute. "But we might be attracting more than the friendly neighborhood crowd."
Davo slowed, following Emma's line of sight. At the far edges of the darkness, shapes moved—a slow, predatory ripple in the gloom. It started with a few silhouettes, but soon multiplied into a rough crowd of men and women emerging from the deeper city. Their clothes hung in tatters, a collage of old jackets, torn jeans, and random scraps that had been lashed together for warmth. Some dragged clubs improvised from broken pipes, while others clutched twisted sheets of metal that caught the glow of the slum's lights.
He grimaced. "Looks like we've got company," he murmured, the muscles in his back tensing. Without waiting, he broke into a jog, Emma and Jane rushing to keep pace.
Jane cast a sidelong glance at him. "Friendly visitors, you think?"
Davo rolled his eyes in response. "Friendly as a pack of starving wolves."
Emma's voice cut in, calm but sharp. "We need to get back to the market. If these folks are here for a fight, the defenders will need all the help they can get."
Their rapid footsteps pounded against the asphalt, echoing in the hollow streets. Closer to the market, the gentle hum of conversation and the clang of conjured tools mingled with the sweet aroma of cooked food drifting lazily in the warm night air. At first, it seemed as though no one had noticed the looming threat, but that illusion shattered the instant the invaders set upon the fringes of the market.
A ragged cry went up, followed by the crash of upended stalls. The attackers barreled forward, brandishing their makeshift weapons in a display of raw desperation. Shouts of alarm and the clatter of goods sent bystanders scrambling. Yet despite the chaos, not one person fell bleeding—invulnerability, a gift of the event, ensured that physical blows could not truly injure anyone. But that didn't stop the wave of panic and the forceful aggression of bodies colliding.
Emma sprinted ahead, her normally composed features alight with urgency. She directed a group of slum dwellers—a motley crew wearing conjured garments whose luminescent patterns seemed to dance across their bodies. "Form a line!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the cacophony. "Push them back as a unit!"
Davo threw himself into the melee, seizing a glowing pole from a frightened vendor. "Mind if I borrow this?" he asked, not waiting for an answer. With a quick pivot, he blocked an incoming strike from a wild-eyed attacker. The clang of metal on conjured light reverberated like a small thunderclap, sending a jolt through his arms.
Nearby, Jane zipped through the fray with fluid grace, her conjured cloth swirling in the air like an animated scarf. She swept it around one assailant's feet, sending him tumbling before launching the fabric at another. "You know," she shouted to Davo over the din, "I was looking forward to a peaceful evening! Maybe conjure a fancy new outfit, try some spiced food—normal stuff!"
Davo managed a grin, even as he shoved back another attacker. "Clearly, we have different definitions of 'normal.'"
With each clash, it became painfully obvious that, while no one could be wounded, the damage to the stalls, the structures, and the sense of security was real enough. A woven tapestry booth was kicked over, scattering luminous threads across the dirt. A stack of conjured plates smashed, each ringing like a glass bell as it skittered over the ground. Lights flickered when their poles were jolted askew, casting lurching shadows that exaggerated every frantic movement into something monstrous and surreal.
At the heart of the market, a group of defenders—men and women with radiant patterns stitched into their clothing—held their ground fiercely. One man braced a glowing rod against his shoulder and, with a grunt, forced back three attackers at once.
Emma navigated the chaos like a battle tactician, pointing out weak spots where the makeshift barricades had been shoved aside. "Close that gap!" she yelled, gesturing to a place where several attackers were forcing their way between an overturned fruit stall and a collapsed sign. "Don't let them split us up!"
Bit by bit, the defenders pushed back the ragtag mob. Some of the attackers showed confusion, even regret, as though they hadn't expected such organized resistance. Others fought on with grim resolve, eyes narrowed and jaws set, until at last they realized the futility of grappling with an invulnerable force.
With a final, collective shove, the defenders drove the marauders to the outskirts of the glowing market. Panting, the invaders stumbled over chunks of concrete and twisted metal. Recognizing they were outmatched, they retreated into the enveloping darkness of the silent city. In their wake, echoes of their harsh breathing and angry mutters lingered like ghosts.
In the hush that followed, Davo found himself in the center of the market, the once-lively stalls now in disarray. Crates had been overturned, scraps of food and fabric scattered across the dusty ground. He leaned against his glowing pole, sweat trickling down the side of his face. Despite the exhaustion, a wry smile touched his lips. "Well," he said, his voice carrying in the sudden quiet, "that was not on my to-do list tonight."
Jane collapsed onto an upended crate, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. "Really gets your heart pumping, though," she said, letting out a breathless laugh. "I'd call it a decent workout."
Emma walked over to them, her posture still poised despite the energy she'd expended. Her eyes scanned the wreckage: the broken barricades, the scattered goods, the trembling lampposts that flickered as though catching their breath. "We have to rebuild," she said firmly. "They came once. They'll come again if we leave ourselves open."
Davo pushed away from his pole, taking in the scene. The market was already stirring back to life—people hurrying to right overturned tables, corralling spilled supplies, and checking on neighbors. A determined glint touched his gaze. "Agreed," he said, leveling a resolute look at a knot of defenders who were catching their breath nearby. "The slum's a beacon now, and we can't afford to have that light snuffed out."
Murmurs of consent rippled through the crowd. With renewed energy, they gathered scraps of broken structures and conjured fresh pieces, forging sturdier barricades around the edges of the market. Davo led the way, showing those less experienced how to shape the panels for maximum stability. The tangy scent of newly conjured material mixed with the dusty air, and soft glows of creation flickered here and there like fireflies in a dark meadow.
As the defenses began to take shape, the market's once-panicked atmosphere eased. Candles and lamps were relit, stalls slowly reorganized, and a subdued murmur of relief swept through the defenders. Jane, kneeling to fix a battered sign, ran her fingers over the cracked lettering. "I always thought I'd hate living in one place for too long," she said, half to herself, half to Emma who was adjusting a glowing brace on a wobbly post. "But seeing everyone come together like this—kinda makes me want to see it through."
Emma glanced at her, a small smile curving her lips. "We do what we can," she replied softly. "It might not be pretty, but it's ours to protect."