The work siren howled across the tunnels, and like clockwork, the miners began their slow march back toward the dorm sectors. The clang of tools against steel faded, replaced by the shuffle of boots and the echo of weary laughter.
Luke and Elias lagged behind, their faces smeared with soot, the glow of the mines still pulsing faintly on their skin. Above them, steam drifted from cracked pipes like ghosts trying to escape.
"Remind me," Elias said, yawning, "why we didn't get assigned to maintenance like normal people?"
"Because we're special," Luke replied. "Chosen by Heaven to eat dust and cough blood."
"Yeah, divine purpose. Love it." Elias stretched his shoulders, wincing. "Think Reina noticed I took that extra break?"
Luke grinned. "She notices everything. You'll find out tomorrow."
"Perfect."
They turned a corner into the upper shaft walkway—a narrow bridge of rusted metal suspended over a chasm. The wind here carried the scent of molten iron and old oil. From below, the sound of machines pounding against rock echoed endlessly, like a heartbeat that never stopped.
Elias paused to lean on the railing. "You ever think we'll make it to the Midcity?"
Luke didn't answer right away. The Midcity—half myth, half promise. It was said to hang between the Undercity and the true Heaven above, where food was clean, air was clear, and people could see the real light of the Nova. Every miner dreamed of being transferred there. Few ever were.
"Maybe," Luke said finally. "If the Nova smiles on us."
"You don't sound convinced."
"Because I'm not."
Elias smirked. "You've got to believe in something, brother."
"I do," Luke said. "I believe in finishing this shift alive."
They both laughed quietly as they resumed walking.
---
Their dorm sector was carved from an old freight tunnel, repurposed into rows of stacked cubicles made from welded scrap. The walls were lined with glowing pipes carrying the dim, flickering energy of the upper lights. It wasn't bright, but it was enough to see faces—tired, dirty, human.
They passed a group of kids playing with a broken gear like it was a toy wheel. Old women stirred thin soup in metal drums, their voices humming the Nova's Hymn—low and slow, more habit than faith.
"Glory to the Light that guides us,
Glory to the hand that raised us…"
Luke slowed, listening. There was something in their voices—not devotion, but survival.
Inside their cubicle, the air was cooler. Luke collapsed onto his cot while Elias rummaged through a ration crate.
"Dinner of kings," Elias announced, holding up two sealed packs. "Processed grain and… mystery paste."
"Better than yesterday," Luke said, unwrapping his pack.
Elias sniffed his portion. "Barely."
They ate in silence for a while. The hum of machinery above filled the space, steady and distant like rain.
Then Elias spoke again, voice quieter. "You ever wonder what the sky looks like? I mean, really looks like. Not those light projections they show in the sermons."
Luke stared at his hands, scarred and dusted with ash. "All the time."
Elias chuckled softly. "Figures. You'd be the one to dream about things you'll never see."
"Maybe not never."
Elias raised a brow. "You planning on climbing your way to Heaven?"
"Maybe," Luke said, eyes narrowing. "Maybe one day I'll see the real light. Even if it kills me."
Elias shook his head, smiling. "You sound like those relic-chasers. The ones who dig past the veins thinking they'll find miracles."
"Someone has to find them," Luke replied.
"Someone always does," Elias said. "And someone always dies trying."
A loud thud broke their quiet. The floor trembled faintly, dust falling from the ceiling. Both froze.
"What was that?" Elias asked.
Luke stood, listening. "Could be a drill collapse."
"No, that came from above."
Before they could speculate further, the siren blared—a harsh, two-tone alarm that turned every head in the sector.
A voice crackled through the speakers:
"Attention all lower workers. Section Four has experienced a breach. Report disruptions to the Overseers. Maintain order."
Elias's face tightened. "Section Four's close."
"Too close," Luke said.
A group of guards ran past the dorm entrance, armor plates clanking, visors reflecting pale gold. Each bore the mark of the Nova—a glowing crest shaped like a rising sun.
Elias watched them disappear down the tunnel. "You think it's the vines?"
Luke shook his head. "Vines don't make the ground shake like that."
Then Reina appeared, her coat smeared with dust, voice sharp as ever. "Everyone stay in your quarters. I repeat—no one leaves until further notice!"
Her gaze swept the corridor, pausing on Luke and Elias. "You two—stay out of trouble for once."
Luke raised an eyebrow. "You mean do nothing?"
"Exactly that." She turned and vanished into the chaos.
---
Hours passed before the sirens finally stopped. Most of the sector had gone quiet, workers whispering prayers or pretending to sleep. But Luke lay awake, staring at the faint flicker of light crawling across the ceiling.
Something felt wrong. The mines had trembled before, but this—this had been deeper. Sharper. Almost like… movement.
Elias's voice broke the silence. "You're thinking again."
"Always," Luke murmured.
"What now?"
"Just… what if the Nova doesn't care?"
Elias was quiet for a moment. "Then we care for each other. That's enough."
Luke turned his head toward him. Elias had already drifted back to sleep, the faintest hint of a smile on his face.
Luke closed his eyes.
The hum of the Undercity filled his thoughts again—the endless machinery, the breath of something vast and hidden beneath it all.
Above, Heaven gleamed.
Below, the dark waited.
And somewhere in between, two brothers dreamed of the sky.