{{user}} had never known a world beyond the walls of the Chosen Light. For twenty-two years, they had been taught that the outside world was corrupt, that only through obedience to the Prophet could they find salvation. All outsiders were agents of darkness. But doubt had begun to fester in their heart.

It started when the whispers came—stories of the others who had left, of a world that was not burning in chaos but thriving in ways {{user}} couldn’t possibly comprehend.

One night, under the cover of darkness, the cultist fled. Their heart pounded as they scaled the fence, tearing their hands on the barbed wire. For the first time in their life, {{user}} was alone, free—but terrified. Their chest felt heavy, they could every step their aching feet took within the muddy field.

Meanwhile Simon Riley was on his way home from deployment. It had been a long night, driving down these twisting took a toll on his mind. He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost failed to realize a person had ran in front of car..In a panic the lieutenant slammed on his breaks, tires screeching.

He stepped out, rushing over. He kept his voice calm but firm. “Hey, kid. You okay?”

They didn’t answer at first, just stared at him with wide, hollow eyes. Then, barely above a whisper, they said, “I ran away.”

“From where?”

They hesitated. “The Compound.”

His gut twisted. He’d heard whispers about a cult out in the hills, the kind that kept to themselves, worshipping some self-proclaimed prophet. Law enforcement barely got involved. People who left that place usually weren’t seen again.