CHAPTER 15: CH 15: TESTING BOUNDARIES - PART 2

Lucian stood in the shadows, arms crossed as he observed Berry from afar one last time. The man was bent over the rows of crops, working diligently.

Though Lucian had tested his resolve earlier, Berry hadn’t betrayed him. Not yet. That was enough.

’He’s not bold enough to ruin himself... not unless pushed. For now, he’ll behave.’

Satisfied, Lucian shifted his gaze upward. The sky, as always, was choked in a heavy blanket of clouds.

They twisted endlessly in dull spirals, hiding the true heavens beyond. The artificial glow that sometimes filtered through was faint, uncertain, and offered no real clue to time.

Yet Lucian had spent enough days under this false dome to trust his instincts.

He tilted his head, closed his eyes, and counted the rhythm of the furnace’s hum mingling with the faint chill that had begun to seep through the air.

"It’s night...or close enough."

He muttered under his breath.

And that meant it was time.

The junkyard would be empty by now, its scavengers retreating to their makeshift dens and the guards in protective suits pulling back to wherever they came from.

If he wanted to avoid unwanted attention, this was his chance.

Lucian brushed the dirt from his hands, straightened, and cast one last glance toward Berry.

"Don’t touch the furnace," he said firmly, voice carrying over the field.

Berry stiffened and turned his head.

"I wasn’t going to."

Lucian gave no reply. He simply slipped into the treeline, his footsteps muffled and light, disappearing toward the jagged horizon where the junkyard lay.

The walk was silent, broken only by the occasional rustle of unseen creatures moving in the brush.

Lucian ignored them. He knew the routes well enough now, the safe patches of ground to step on, the dips in the earth that provided cover.

By the time he reached the outskirts of the junkyard, the faint orange glow of the lamps inside flickered against the clouds above.

He crouched low, narrowing his eyes.

The people were moving in groups, hauling carts piled with scrap. Even from a distance, Lucian could see the glimmer of their protective suits under the lamps.

Thick, reinforced material—worn by necessity rather than luxury.

The junkyard had its own rules. No one survived inside without that armor, not with the strange energies that clung to the debris and the pests that nested in forgotten machines.

That was why they left at night, why the gates creaked closed and the lamps dimmed until the entire expanse fell into shadow.

Lucian waited, crouched among the weeds. One by one, the scavengers left. The gates screeched shut, sealing with a heavy clang that echoed across the wasteland.

Only when the footsteps and muffled chatter vanished completely did Lucian rise.

His eyes gleamed faintly in the dim light as he slipped inside, slipping through the weak points he had memorized over the last few trips.

The air here was heavy, oppressive. Broken towers of rusted metal leaned precariously, their jagged edges glinting faintly under the cloudlight.

Scraps of shattered glass crunched underfoot, though Lucian moved carefully enough to muffle the sound.

’Focus. Get what I came for, then leave.’

He picked through the piles, selecting bits and pieces with quick, practiced motions. A coil of copper wire, bent but still usable. A small wheel, its rim cracked yet salvageable.

Shards of glass, a rusted panel that could be hammered flat. Each item went into the sack slung across his shoulder, chosen not for appearance but for potential.

Every step deeper carried more risk. He felt the air thicken, as though unseen eyes were tracking him.

The junkyard wasn’t just a graveyard for machines—it was a nest of something older. Something that never slept.

Lucian kept his breathing even. He didn’t linger. By the time his sack was half full, he turned back, retracing his path to the gates and slipping out as easily as he had entered.

The valley welcomed him back with the same steady hum of the furnace. The fields were untouched, the protective growth swaying gently, alive in their own way.

And there, exactly where Lucian had left him, Berry was still working.

Lucian adjusted the weight of the sack on his shoulder and stepped forward. The crunch of his boots against the soil made Berry’s head snap up.

Relief flickered across his face—but it was lined with tension too.

Lucian set the sack down with a soft thud and glanced at the rows of crops. "How was the farm while I was gone?"

Berry wiped his brow with the back of his hand. His voice was steady, but his eyes gave away the unease.

"It was fine... mostly."

"Mostly?"

Lucian’s brow lifted.

Berry hesitated. His hand twitched, fingers curling against his thigh.

"...Those plants of yours. The ones along the edge of the fields. They... attacked."

Lucian narrowed his eyes, saying nothing at first.

Berry swallowed and hurried on.

"Not me! I didn’t do anything. Some beasts wandered too close. Ugly things, claws and teeth. I thought I was dead for sure—but then those plants... they just lashed out. Vines, thorns, whatever they are. They tore into those beasts like knives. I..."

He trailed off, still shaken by the memory.

"I didn’t know."

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Only the steady hum of the furnace filled the gap.

Then Lucian’s lips curved faintly, not quite a smile.

"So you saw."

Berry frowned.

"You... knew? And you didn’t tell me?"

Lucian crouched, loosening the straps of his sack and carefully laying out the pieces of scrap he’d collected.

His voice was calm, even, yet it carried a weight that pressed down on Berry like stone.

"As long as you behave, those plants won’t harm you. They’re not here for you. They’re here for everything else. Beasts. Thieves. Strays. Anything that doesn’t belong."

Lucian said.

He placed a piece of copper wire on the ground, then a metal plate, arranging them with precise hands.

"I didn’t see the point in telling you. "If you do as I say, you’ll never have to worry about them. If you don’t..."

Lucian continued, not looking up. He glanced up briefly, eyes locking on Berry’s.

"You’ll find out soon enough."

Berry’s throat went dry. He looked away quickly, nodding stiffly.

"I... understand."

Lucian hummed softly, returning to his work.

"Good. Then there’s nothing to fear."

The field fell into silence again. The furnace hummed. The plants rustled faintly, as though pleased with the night’s events.

Berry kept his distance, watching the boy work with scraps and wires, the glow of the furnace casting long shadows across his small frame.

And though Lucian hadn’t raised his voice once, Berry couldn’t shake the feeling that the plants weren’t the only things watching him.