Beneath The Ashen Sky

The sun was a ghost, a pale circle smothered by the constant haze of ash that clung to the air. Cities stood like tombstones, hollowed shells of their former selves, where silence reigned except for the hum of distant machines.

The world had not ended in fire or ice, but in apathy. The people, lulled by the promises of progress, had surrendered their agency to towering corporations that became gods in their own right. Now, they lived underground, in tightly regulated zones called Sanctuaries. Above ground was forbidden, "The Gray Expanse," where the air could kill, or so they were told.

In Sanctuary E12, 17-year-old Isla scanned her ration packet, waiting for the green light to confirm she was still “in good standing.” It beeped approval, and she moved on. There was no conversation, only the occasional drone buzzing overhead, scanning for any breach of protocol.

But Isla had a secret. A keycard slipped to her by her grandmother on her deathbed. It unlocked something the systems could not trace—an old, rusted door on the edge of the Sanctuary.

One night, she used it.

The door creaked open to reveal the world she had been warned about her entire life. But instead of death, she saw wildflowers stubbornly sprouting through cracks in the concrete, vines reclaiming skyscrapers, and a night sky bursting with stars. The air tasted sharp but alive, unlike the filtered sterility below.

She stood there, breathless, as she realized the truth. The surface was not dead. It was simply unmonitored, unowned—a place the gods of the Sanctuaries could not control.

For the first time in generations, someone had a choice. And Isla, staring at the untamed beauty around her, knew she would not go back.

By Lena Rivera

From: Canada