The casino lights flickered overhead as Johnquis and the Runner crouched behind an old blackjack table, its velvet surface dusted with fresh blood and glitch-static. The jingle still echoed faintly from the floor below, muffled by screams and the sound of steel clashing with bone.
Johnquis pressed his hand against the side of his neck—he could still feel the fresh scar from where Rex's blade nearly took his life. His fingers shook.
The Runner was still beside him, its body rising and falling with shallow, beastlike breath. Its muscles were tense, twitching under the skin as it tried to heal, limbs trembling from the strain. Its glowing violet eyes darted around, watching for threats.
But Johnquis wasn't watching the stairs anymore.
He was staring at the bright posters flickering across the wall. A holographic screen stuttered mid-loop, showing children laughing on a carousel, riding plastic dolphins, eating popcorn. An ad for the "Seaside Mall Summer Carnival."
It hit him.
Hard.
A memory he hadn't asked for.
It was a crumbling shelter, two years ago.
A long night lit only by broken lanterns and the red glow of dusk through broken glass. Dust drifted through the air like snow, settling on everything.
Johnquis sat on a piece of folded canvas, slowly sharpening a dull knife. Nearby, five kids huddled together. Their faces were smudged with dirt, their bellies empty, their eyes too wide.
Someone had found a magazine. A tattered one, barely holding together. The kind printed on glossy pages that still smelled faintly of soap and ink.
It was a children's magazine.
"Places to Visit Before You Die"
They passed it around like it was treasure.
The smallest boy pointed at a full-page spread.
"Look at this place! Seaside Mall! It had a ferris wheel at the back!"
Another chimed in.
"I wanna ride that ferris wheel! It's way taller than the cathedral bell!"
"Yeah! And it spins so fast, like you're inside a giant wheel!"
Someone flipped the page. "Whoa! There's a beach inside the mall? How does the water stay in?"
A girl tilted her head. "Is it like a summer pool?"
Johnquis leaned closer, a grin flickering at the corner of his mouth.
"That's an indoor pool. Look, see the roof? It's open. The sun's real close."
"How'd you know that? You ever been there?"
"Nope," he chuckled, tapping the text. "It says 'Indoor pool.' See?"
The boy flipped another page and lit up.
"Me! I want this! A pair of shoes!"
He lifted his foot—filthy, calloused, covered in dust.
"Look at my feet!"
"Ewwww!"
The others groaned, laughing.
Johnquis smirked. "We'll all go there one day, buy shoes for everyone. Look at Sarah, her feet and knees are still bruised from spinning on gravel all the time."
Sarah shrugged, a shy smile playing on her lips.
"How I wish, big brother. But I love dancing. This pain's nothing… when I dance, it feels like…"
She twirled her fingers, searching for the word.
"It feels like freedom."
She giggled.
"Freedom, huh…"
Johnquis echoed, a soft smile tugging at his mouth.
"Maybe we should go there someday."
He pointed at a bright picture in the magazine. A perfume shop lit up with neon signs.
"And we'll stop by the perfume store. So you can all smell nice for once — since none of you like to bathe!"
The kids burst out laughing.
One boy jabbed a finger at Johnquis's tattered shirt.
"Then I'm buying you new clothes, big brother! Look at you, one sleeve, the other gone!"
Johnquis barked a laugh, flicking the boy's forehead.
"Deal."
Someone else grabbed the magazine.
"I'd go straight to the toy store! Get one of those big robots with the rocket arms!"
"Me too! I want a fluffy teddy bear!"
A girl with a crooked ponytail whispered,
"If I ever go… I wanna try those rainbow drinks. The ones with fruit on top. I saw them in another book. They even come with tiny umbrellas."
They all nodded, eyes glowing with wonder.
One of the older girls pointed at the background.
"The escalators… they look fun. Like magic stairs."
They laughed. Just talking about it. It felt like magic. For a moment, it felt like none of them were starving.
Then Jiana spoke. Her voice cut through the room.
"It's gone."
Everything fell quiet. Jiana stood near the broken window. She didn't look back.
"That mall? It doesn't exist anymore. Not like in that magazine."
The kids stared at her. One tried.
"You don't know that, maybe it still—"
"No."
Her voice was flat.
"It's long gone. Don't waste your hope on a place that's already dead."
She turned, and for the first time, they saw her eyes. Tired. Too tired for someone so young.
"That mall? It's filled with Eaters now. Floors cracked. Blood everywhere. You don't shop there. You die there."
No one said anything.
The smallest boy trembled.
"...You're lying."
But no one stood up for him. A girl hugged her knees, her voice barely a whisper.
"I just wanted to pretend…"
The boy closed the magazine slowly. No one laughed anymore.
Johnquis looked at Jiana. He didn't say a word. He didn't have to.
The silence said it all.
That night…
The wind whispered through the broken windows. Outside, the world was black. No stars, no firelight, only the rustle of leaves and distant shrieks in the dark.
Johnquis sat near the window, knife still in hand, though he wasn't sharpening anymore. He glanced over at Jiana, who sat alone, legs pulled up to her chest. Her chin rested on her knees, staring into the dim orange flicker of a lantern.
He got up, walked over, and sat beside her. He asked quietly.
"Why'd you say that to them?"
Jiana didn't answer.
"You didn't have to shut them down like that. They were just pretending. It gave them hope. You remember what that feels like, don't you?"
Still no reply.
Johnquis sighed, "They're kids, Jiana. We're all kids. Letting them dream for five minutes won't break them."
That's when she finally spoke. Her voice was low.
"It might."
Johnquis turned his head to her. She still wasn't looking at him.
"Do you remember Oreo?"
He blinked, then nodded slowly.
"He was the one who loved the stars. Said he wanted to see the ocean one day. Said he'd find a place where no one would be hungry anymore."
She hugged her knees tighter.
"Last year, he found a book with a picture of Seaside Mall. Just like the one today. Said he'd go there. That maybe the ferris wheel still worked. That maybe he'd bring back toys… or food."
Her voice cracked.
"I told him not to go. I begged him. But… he waited until everyone was asleep and slipped out."
Johnquis swallowed hard, already remembering how that story ended.
"Next day… they found what was left of him. A few hours outside the city wall. Torn apart. Face unrecognizable. All we knew it was him was the satchel… and the page inside it. The one with the mall."
Silence fell again. Just the soft crackling of the lantern.
"So no, I won't let them believe in a place like that. Not if it gets them killed. Not again."
Johnquis didn't argue. He couldn't. Instead, he reached over and gently nudged her arm.
"Still, you didn't have to break it like that. Could've let them have the night."
She didn't reply.
Eventually, she lay down on her makeshift bedding. Johnquis watched her breathing settle, eyes closed. The hard edge on her face was gone now just a sleeping girl, trying to carry too much for her size.
He stood, about to head back to his corner, when something caught his eye.
Under her pillow… a torn page.
He gently lifted it. It was old. Creased. Worn from being folded so many times.
A picture of a carousel.
Bright colors. Painted horses frozen mid-gallop. Children laughing in blurry motion.
The edges were frayed from being held. Protected.
Johnquis looked down at her.
She was smiling in her sleep.
He let out a soft breath, part ache, part something like understanding.
"Liar…"
He carefully slid the page back under her pillow. Sat beside her for a moment longer.
"You still believe in it too…"