Vortex Origins
Chapter 53: The Return back to sandworms valley - 1

Chapter 53: The Return back to sandworms valley - 1

Ash’s gaze lingered on the machine’s controls, the hum of the machinery reverberating in his chest. The system was fragile, temperamental, but it had to work. They didn’t have time for mistakes.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the woman again. She hadn’t moved, still absorbed in the book, her fingers turning the pages with a sense of ritual, as if lost in a world far removed from the one they were trying to survive in.

Eir noticed Ash’s glance and followed his line of sight.

"Don’t mind her, she’s Just a researcher. No use in a place like this."

Ash didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. The woman’s presence hung in the room like an unanswered question.

She didn’t even flinch as Ash moved past her, her fingers never pausing in their slow, deliberate flip of the page. The weight of the room seemed to bend around her, the noise of the preparations and the tension in the air seemingly irrelevant to her. She was lost in a world Ash couldn’t understand, and he didn’t care to.

He turned away from her, his focus already narrowing to the machine and the task that lay before him.

The mass handler hummed louder as Ash moved toward it, the soft whirring of its inner workings filling the silence. He bent down, his hands locking onto its cool surface, the weight of the supplies pressing down on him, but he didn’t feel it. Not yet.

Eir clapped his hands together, the sharp sound snapping through the stillness of the room.

"You’ve got your supplies, Now don’t waste time. Every minute counts."

Ash glanced up, his expression hardening at the sharpness of Eir’s voice. There was no need for the urgency. Ash had already known what needed to be done.

Still, the unspoken tension between them lingered, like a dark cloud in the corner of the room. He said nothing. His gaze lingered for a second longer before he shifted his focus back to the machine, his grip tightening.

"I won’t."

His voice clipped, a promise hidden beneath the surface. His muscles flexed as he hoisted the mass handler into his arms. It was a mechanical beast, cumbersome in its own way, but the hum of its systems running at full capacity steadied him.

The door slid open with a metallic groan, but Ash didn’t pause. He didn’t need to. The world outside was waiting for him, and every second that ticked by now felt like a countdown. Each moment was a step closer to a point of no return.

Eir’s eyes followed him, his face still unreadable.

"Good luck, Ash,"

His words carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken things. There was no warmth in his tone, only the quiet acknowledgment of the danger that loomed ahead.

Ash didn’t look back.

The woman finally raised her eyes from the book, her gaze dark and heavy. She didn’t speak, but for the briefest of moments, Ash felt the weight of her stare, like a warning that hung in the air between them, thick and suffocating.

He didn’t respond. There was nothing to say. He was already out the door, his footsteps echoing in the corridor, the world outside pressing in, as if the very earth itself was urging him forward.

The people at sandworms valley still waiting burned in his mind, sharper than anything else.

The door closed behind him with a soft hiss, and the silence inside the storage room returned to its quiet, oppressive stillness.

Ash’s gaze lingered on the closed gates, the faint hiss of the storage room’s entrance still echoing in his ears. The silence stretched out, thick and suffocating. His fingers tightened around the handle of the weight-reducing machine, the hum of its internal gears the only sound breaking through the stillness.

The woman’s face flashed in his mind—the way her dark eyes never left her book, how her presence in that room had unsettled him. She didn’t belong there. Something about her felt like a hollow specter, a remnant of a world that had long crumbled.

He shook his head. There was no time for that. The road ahead wouldn’t wait. Every step mattered now. There was too much at stake.

Ash glanced down at the bulging sack tied to his waist, its weight pressing against his ribs. A bitter reminder. He would return here—he had to. Someone here was waiting for him, someone who had made sure he wouldn’t go empty-handed, who had given him more than just supplies.

"I’ll make it back,"

His voice was low, a vow carved into the stillness of the air.

The cold steel walls of Ironhold loomed ahead, grim and oppressive. Each footstep was a slow scrape against the cracked stone, the sound muffled by the weight of his thoughts.

Ironhold had never been a place for compassion. It was a prison—their prison. Ash was just passing through, a stranger moving on to whatever came next.

At the gates, the same guard from earlier stood waiting. His face was worn, his eyes heavy with fatigue, like the city itself had carved its lines into him. He studied Ash for a moment before speaking, his voice rough but not unkind.

"So you’re finally leaving,"

A wisp of something like a smile tugging at the corner of the guard’s lips. It didn’t reach his eyes. Nothing ever did in this place.

Ash stopped before him, the weight of the machine pulling at his shoulders. He met the guard’s gaze, his voice gravelly.

"Yeah. I have to. They’re waiting for me."

The guard’s lips pulled into a smile that didn’t quite fit. He nodded once, the gesture stiff.

"Good luck out there, kid."

He paused, eyes flickering toward the gates and the distant wasteland beyond.

"I’d offer to go with you, but..."

Ash didn’t wait for the rest. He knew the game. The guard was stuck here, bound by a prison made of metal and desperation. But Ash had no time for sympathy. Not now. He nodded sharply, his lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile, more a reflex than a real expression.

"Yeah, right,"

His tone hard, a blade’s edge to it.

The guard gestured toward the gates. With a creak and groan, they began to open, their movement slow and reluctant, like a body waking from a long slumber. The sound sliced through the silence, heavy and final.

Ash pushed the machine forward, its bulk dragging him, a constant reminder of everything that hung in the balance. As the gates creaked wider, the biting wind rushed toward him, cold and uninviting, as if it knew how little he wanted to step into the world beyond.

But he did. He had to.

The gates slammed shut behind him, the finality of the sound like a coffin’s lid closing. Ironhold was behind him now, but its shadow would follow.

The road stretched out, dark and unfathomable. A world that made Ironhold look like a sanctuary.

The wind howled, carrying with it the scent of decay, of everything that had died and everything that would. The weight on his chest felt heavier now, the burden of the journey pulling at him with each step.

But it didn’t matter.

He wasn’t looking back.

What mattered was the road ahead.

Each step forward, no matter how grim, brought him closer to the people who waited.

And that was all he needed to know.