peckenpaugh | THE UPPER LEVELS

up into the balconies

you climb The breathing boughs of that nightmare tree crowd into the upper balconies of the ruined auditorium. You have to duck and bend to get by them in places, sometimes through spaces that seem to grow smaller as you press through. These branches are warm to the touch, some of them uncomfortably so, pulsing with something that isn't quite life.

You've climbed these stairs more than once in your time here; to take your place after your sorting, to watch new students find their House, or perhaps just for an assembly. This building always seemed so sturdy, so safe. It was a place to go for shows, for celebrations, and hell, to just get out of class. Now, the floorboards creek precariously, split and splintering where vines have crept through. Benches are broken, overturned and tossed aside to make room for the auditorium's new king: the malignant maple. Up here, the glowing blue seeds hanging from branches are close enough to pluck. Those that have ripened litter the floor and railings, filling the balconies with an eerie blue twinkle.

The air is muggy, clogged by falling ash. It stinks of coal and sulfer. But you keep moving, anyway. Keep opening portals and pushing on. Just a little bit higher, and then maybe you'll be able to plunge into the depths.

and you fight By now there's a plan, and with it, a slowly growing brigade of people, of beings, of bugs, who are gathering to push back against inevitability.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

“No—no,” Wybie barks out and the words feel like they’re burning as they come out. “Z. Qualls. Tink. Where’s—where's… ?” He can't finish the question. Questions. He just gestures at the space where his leg once was.

Z looks down, lips pursed. “Z?”

“We can’t, Wybie. It’s—some things we can’t get back.” There’s an ache in her throat and it sticks to her words.

“Some things or…” Wybie can feel himself fading fast, fog creeping up and over his vision, but he stares at Z. He needs to find out before he slips away again. He needs to know what reality he’ll be waking up to.

“I don’t know yet, Wybie.” Z closes her eyes. “Go to sleep. I can’t—please.”

Behind her, Healer Crockett pulls a bottle of clear liquid from a potions cabinet, leaving the door wide open. If you get those shelves full of medicinal potions out of the way, there’s a gap just big enough for a few average-sized teens to crawl through in back.

THE UPPER LEVELS

MEMORY: So Much Promise