Derek had to learn to live alone from a young age. That day was his fifteenth birthday. Five years had passed since his brother died falling into the crater of the Sea of Ships. There was no police investigation; the case was closed as an accident.
But the more Derek grew, the more an idea gained strength: it wasn't an accident. His brother's partner had pushed him for some reason. For years he insisted the police reopen the case. To him, Saez was the best seeker who ever existed; it was impossible for him to have fallen by carelessness.
Since his death, his life had collapsed, and everything revolved around discovering the truth. That obsession had consumed him to the point that today he would only go to high school to drop out for good.
The building smelled of old metal and cheap disinfectant. Derek walked down the hallways with his motorcycle helmet under his arm, feeling stares digging into his back. It wasn't his imagination: everyone knew it was his birthday, and many sensed he didn't plan on coming back.
He entered the classroom without greeting anyone and sat at the back, by the window. From there, you could see the Sea of Ships in the distance: an immense scar on the earth, full of rusted scrap and broken promises. The same place that had swallowed his brother.
The teacher was talking, but Derek wasn't listening. His mind returned again and again to the sealed police report stamped with a single word: accident. A word that, over time, had become an unbearable lie.
When the bell rang, Derek stood up without asking for permission and left the classroom. No one stopped him.
Outside, David was waiting for him, leaning against a motorcycle. He took off his helmet when he saw him approaching.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"We've already talked about this, David," Derek replied. "I need money, not studies."
David didn't insist. He tossed him a helmet.
"Get on. We have to go pick up the package later."
The engine roared, and they sped away from the school without looking back. They crossed several neighborhoods until the buildings gave way to abandoned industrial structures. Finally, David stopped the bike in front of an old warehouse by the train tracks.
"This is it," he said. "You deliver the package, and they pay you in cash. No questions."
"And if they ask?"
"Don't answer."
Derek got off the bike. He felt his stomach tighten. This wasn't just any job, he knew that. But neither was living with doubt stuck in him like a knife.
He entered the warehouse.
A tall man, with visible implants in his neck and arms, was waiting inside.
"You the kid?"
Derek nodded.
The man handed him a small metal box.
"Deliver this. Open it, and you die."
Derek took it. The weight was strange, too light.
"Where to?"
"The Sea of Ships."
His pulse quickened.
"Which zone?"
The man smiled.
"The crater."
Derek closed his fingers around the box. For the first time since his brother's death, he felt that the past wasn't just chasing him: it was calling him.