Kelvin looked up slightly, his sharp gaze catching the dim light filtering into their makeshift shelter. His armored gauntlet rested loosely on his knee, the remnants of his dried meat held between his fingers.
Hope noticed the shift in attention and instinctively followed his gaze, meeting the man's eyes—or at least the glint of them in the darkness.
"How did you get here?" Kelvin asked.
Hope, who had been taking his time chewing, stopped mid-bite.
For a moment, he simply sat there, staring at Kelvin. He hadn't expected the question, but he supposed it made sense. They were all in the same damn place, trapped in this nightmare world, and sooner or later, stories would come up.
Swallowing his food, he exhaled softly and leaned back against the rough stone wall.
"I was in the city…" he started, his voice level but distant.
"Same as any other day—scavenging, staying out of trouble. Then I started feeling sick. Weak. At first, I thought I just hadn't eaten enough, but it got worse. My whole body felt like it was shutting down. I tried to sleep it off, but when I woke up… I was here."
He didn't mention the sheer terror that had gripped him when he realized what was happening—the icy fear that had crawled up his spine when he felt his soul being dragged out of him.
He didn't talk about the voice—the damn voice that welcomed him to this cursed place.
He just let the words sit.
Kelvin gave a small nod, processing the information, but didn't press further.
Instead, he shifted his gaze to Walker, who had just finished the last of his meat.
"What about you?" Kelvin asked, his tone unchanged. "How did you end up here?"
Walker had been leaning forward slightly, his thin frame hunched like a bird perched on a branch. At Kelvin's question, he stilled.
For a long moment, he didn't say anything. His eyes flickered, dull and unfocused, as if his mind had drifted somewhere else entirely.
Then, in a slow, hollow voice, he replied—
"I don't remember."
His words hung in the air, empty yet heavy at the same time.