Everlasting

Missing

Sylrie slunk through the backstreets of Paris, her nimble feet gracefully tiptoeing over the garbage that covered every surface. She suppressed a sigh as she approached the ruins of the Musée du Louvre. This city used to be full of eloquence and grandeur, but now, after the Dark Wars between the Regs and the Mysteria, everything was in ruins. The Dark Wars ended many years ago, but most people knew that the Mysteria were still attacking Canada, the U. S. A. and Northern Europe. Sylrie sighed as she grabbed hold of the bottom rung of a fire escape that hung between two abandoned buildings a few streets down from the Eiffel Tower. Her hands stung from too many trips up the ladder and her legs muscles burned from running all the way around the city. She did the same routine every day, but her body still hadn't gotten used to the harsh wind and biting cold of the wintry city. The collapsed buildings and unstable road and bridges made finding a place to sleep quite a challenge. The thing was, Paris was one of the few abandoned cities still standing, and one of the only place that wasn't still being bombarded with nuclear bombs and Mysteria magic. She reached the top of the ladder and hauled herself up onto the roof. From there she surveyed the city, the ruined world that she lived in. Her long unruly white hair cut her vision into strips as the wind tangled it across her face. Her sigh echoed over the city's deafening silence. She turned around and hopped off the ledge, making her way to the corner of the rooftop, dodging around the holes riddled in the floor. Lying against the ledge was a silver bar, not unlike a relay baton. Sylrie picked up the bar and hit it against the edge of the roof three times. The clanging noise unnerved her, even though she had heard it every day for the last two years. Then she dropped the bar and jumped back. The bar expanded, sliding out until it became a ladder. Sylrie dragged the ladder to the centre of the roof, to the largest hole, and led the ladder slip through it. As soon as she heard the thump of it hitting the floor, she scrambled down the slippery rungs, almost falling off the ladder in her haste to get down. Once her feet had hit the floor, she tugged the ladder away from the opening in the ceiling and ducked through a small doorway to her left. The door was hidden by shadows and cobwebs so that if anyone managed to get into the building, they wouldn't be able to find her or her belongings, and even if anyone did manage to find the doorway, they would get lost in the twisting passages and narrow corridors that made up her home. The bugs crawling beneath her feet and the dust tickling her nose had no affect on Sylrie as she wandered past them, because her mind was elsewhere. She exited one of the narrow hallways through another hidden door and emerged into a small dark room. There were several computers lined up against one wall, a walk-in-closet filled with weapons that branched off the back wall, a black swivel chair beside the door and a small bed in one corner. Sylrie sat down on the chair, sinking into the soft comfy cushions whilst her thoughts ran circles through her mind. Where is he? She wondered, anxiously twisting her fingers in her lap. Her morning run had done nothing to calm her nerves, and Leif's disappearance was only making her more frazzled. Come on, come on, she thought. He should have been back by now. Leif had left earlier that day to collect supplies and food from the stores on the outskirts of the city. The trip usually only took him an hour, but he had been gone for almost half of the day. She stood up and paced the room, deciding that if Leif hadn't returned in another half-hour than she would go out and find him. She knelt down in from of one of the computers and started to type. In her spare time, which was pretty scarce, Sylrie had devoted herself to recording her memories, trying to find any clue that would lead her to the gray-cloaked figures or, even better, her twin sister. Her brother Kyan had moved out before the fire, so he hadn't been killed, but he knew about what had happened to their parents. She had visited him not long after the fire and told him everything. He had offered to let her live with him, but she had been determined to find out who had killed their parents. Now that she knew who it was, she almost wished that she hadn't tried to find them before. She wished that Leif's parents hadn't found out about her living in the attic and she and Leif would be out in their treehouse playing assassins and thieves or lying down on their beds, talking and laughing. She would give almost anything for life to be that easy again. But that wasn't possible. Not since the fire. Actually, it wouldn't have been possible ever since Leif's parents had found her and Twyla had shown up at her execution. She sighed and glanced at the clock, then jumped to her feet. She had spent almost forty minutes on the computer and Leif had still not returned. She ducked into the closet and grabbed a gun and a penknife. She pulled up the hood on her sweatshirt and ducked back out of the room. She hurried back down the narrow passages and scaled the ladder in record time. The second her feet hit the street below she broke into a run, heading for the train station. Leif had helped her rewire the maglev system and now the hover-trains would go anywhere she wanted. She hopped into the storage compartment of the smallest maglev and sat down on one of the empty crates that used to carry food and supplies to the city. 

"Train, take me to Outer Metropolis 4-B," she commanded. 

 A robotic female voice replied, "Transporting to Outer Metropolis 4-B." 

The train started to move forwards, slowly at first but gaining speed and the collapsed buildings. Sylrie shoved the penknife into the pocket of her sweatshirt and tucked the gun into the waistband of her jeans. She knew that the trip would only take a minute, though the Outer Metropolises were about three miles from the city centre. She dragged her hands through her tangled hair and heaved a sigh. The white poison in her hair was slowly fading back. Now the roots of her hair were black-brown and the rest of her hair was white. It still hung below her waist and soon it would reach her feet if she didn't cut it. Sylrie was jolted from her thoughts by the train's mechanical voice speaking again. 

 "We have arrived at Outer Metropolis 4-B. Train will wait for next command." 

 "Train, wait here until my return," said Sylrie, her voice wavering. "If I do not come back within four hours then return to the city centre." 

Sylrie hopped out of the train cart and jogged through the silent, desolate neighbourhood. When she reached the mall, she wasted no time before pulling the gun out. 

 "Hello?" she called, holding the gun out in front of her, ready to shoot the second she saw someone. 

"Leif!" she hollered, louder this time. "Leif!" 

 "Syl!"