Cassian and Rilke

I stood at the ridge, rifle still hot in my grip, watching dust spiral down the cliff where the boy had fallen. The mountain wind howled past—dry, sharp—tugging at the brim of my hat. 

For a long while, there was nothing but the scrape of loose stone tumbling into the emptiness below.

Rilke shifted beside me. Kid couldn’t stand still if his life depended on it.

“Cass… was that the right thing to do?” His voice cracked, small against the open desert.

I turned slow, leather strap creaking as I slung the rifle back onto my shoulder.

“Right thing to do?” I let the words hang, let him squirm a little before I answered.

“Hell, boy, that kid’s the reason a worm bigger than Solaris damn near tore the world in half. You call that right?”

Rilke’s jaw twitched like he had more to say but swallowed it down.

I clapped a hand on his shoulder, felt how wiry and thin he was under all that desert cloth.

“Listen,” I said low, voice like grit sliding over steel. “Out here, right and wrong won’t save you. Only thing that matters is seeing another sunrise. That’s it.”

He nodded, reluctant but honest.

That’s when everything changed.

The wind stopped. No whistle through the rocks, no hiss of shifting sand. Silence so heavy it pressed against my ears.

Rilke whispered, “Cass… he’s not dead.”

I didn’t answer. Just moved beside him, crouched low, and peered over the cliff.

“Fucking hell…” I muttered.

We both watched as the kid—the one I put a bullet in—stood up. Not staggering. Not limping. Just… walking.

“Dead man walking,” I said under my breath.

Rilke pointed, panic tightening his voice. “Cass… he’s heading toward the worm.”

Sure enough, a massive fin sliced through the dunes, cutting straight toward him.

“Cass, this is it—you can make this right. Go save him. Apologize—”

“Silence, boy.” I cut him off, one knee down in the dust. My eyes stayed locked on the scene. Something was wrong. Dead wrong.

He fell all the way down the mountain. How the hell—

An then I saw it.

I stood. “Let’s go.”

“What?” Rilke blinked up at me.

“I guess you wanna die here, then.” I started walking, boots grinding against stone.

“Wait—I’m coming too!” He scrambled after me.

“I’m sure he won’t mind if we borrow his V2,” I said, swinging a leg over the stolen hoverbike. “Come along now.”

“Y—yeah, sir.” He clung to the back as I throttled forward.

Worms go for the highest frequency out there, and if it’s ignoring everything else…

“That kid ain’t human anymore,” I said, voice almost lost to the wind. I tilted my head back, pulled a cigarette from my pocket, I held it out and he scrambled to pull out a lighter.

Rilke yelled, “What the hell does that mean?”

“Never damn mind,” I snapped. Smoke curled past my lips. “Just shut up and hold on.”

Desert wind ripped at us as we sped down the ridge. My eyes stayed on the horizon, where the worm’s fin carved a jagged path toward that boy.

(Authors note: hey guys it’s me sowisious Maximus Ultimus, the one and only lyrical genius. I just wanna thank you all for 250 views on my novel, it’s greatly appreciated if there’s anything you’d like to see from me please leave a comment okay bye)