This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. This work contains mature themes, including violence and sexually explicit content, and may not be suitable for all audiences. It is only intended for readers 18 years and older. Reader discretion advised. 

Before long, Alexei found himself hovering on the threshold of his apartment building, Cora alongside him. A decade ago, he would’ve had no reason to hesitate, taking the few steps onto the street without thought or care. He’d visited his parents on holidays and birthdays during his time as a priest, and each time he’d stepped through those rust-colored double doors to return to his parish it had been with a smile on his face, feeling renewed by the love of his family and the satisfaction of a home cooked meal.

“You want to tell me why you’re wearing that?” Cora asked, gesturing towards his neck. “You a priest again, Father Lastra?” Alexei’s face twisted into a grimace at the use of his old title, and he tugged at the white clerical collar around his neck as if the abrupt reminder of its existence had caused it to tighten. 

”Hey,” she continued, her tone shifting to one of concern, “I didn’t mean to–” Alexei cut her off with a wave of his hand. “It’s nothing. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just nerves.” She seemed rather unconvinced, but made no move to pry any further.

 ”I don’t have a lot of collared shirts,” Alexei said after a few moments, his eyes still fixed on the sun-lit street just outside the door, “and I just thought things might go easier for a priest than a layman.” He could tell, even despite her stoic look, that she was pitying him. Had it been anyone else, he might have taken offense, but as a fellow resident of Masonville, Cora had seen her fair share of the horrors, too, and so he did not. Most of his neighbors who’d survived the first gate still held some degree of residual trauma, and so to them, his issues were not so sorely out of place. The man who ran the corner store still slung a baseball bat across his back while he worked, and a woman on the first floor burned an oppressive-smelling incense both day and night that she swore could ward off beasts of all kinds. There were more just like them, all throughout the neighborhood, each with their own coping mechanisms and ideas about what would keep them safe. 

“I don’t want to rush you,” Cora said softly, squeezing his arm, “but if you don’t leave now, you’ll miss the train.” Alexei reached down and covered her hand with his own, nodding his head. “I know, I know. I’m going.”

As he took the first few steps onto Anthurium Street, thoughts of his old life flashed through his mind. There were days filled with sunlit walks through the chapel courtyard, memories of young children bringing their pets and even strays to ask for his blessing, and the smiling faces of his community among the many vibrant scenes. It had truly been a peaceful, idyllic sort of life. He armed himself with those memories, putting himself in the shoes of his former self for courage. Today, he was not Alexei the recluse, but Alexei the priest, a man who could walk and talk with anyone and everyone he met. 

He made it as far as Cormorant Street before his hands began to shake, and he pulled out a cigarette, lighting it up as he walked to settle his nerves. Cora had written down the directions on a piece of scrap paper, and while there were a few changes to the route due to the rebuilding efforts, most of it was entirely the same as he remembered. Anthurium Street to East Pine, followed by a quick trip down a connecting alley until he reached the main thoroughfare of Cormorant. All he had to do now was put one foot in front of the other and he’d end up where he needed to be. 

The ride to downtown Oclesa by train was about thirty-five minutes at this time of day. No morning commuter traffic to fill the trains to capacity or clog the turnstiles. Alexei took a window seat in one of the empty cars, and showed his ticket to the inspector when he passed through a few minutes later. 

As he rode, he tried to brace himself for the day ahead, wondering what Oclesa City might look like after all his years away. A decade ago, it had already been a modern metropolis by every metric, but he felt quite sure that it had exceeded even what he could imagine during that time. He had seen bits and pieces of progress through his television screen, of course, though he mostly used the old relic to watch VHS tapes and order things for himself off the home shopping channel, sending them to Cora’s address– usually, giving her very little forewarning. It was on that same staticky screen that he’d first gotten a glimpse at the people known as the awakened. Humans, both young and old, performed unimaginable feats using their newly unleashed powers, vanquishing beasts and sealing rifts with precision. Some flew through the air with graceful ease, while others moved objects with their minds, or bent metal, electricity, or fire to their will. The sight of it had caused Alexei such distress that he’d hastily turned the tv off and left it that way for several weeks. Before the first gate, he’d felt chosen by god, believing that each individual had a part to play in a grander plan. After the gate, however, that was no longer the case, and seeing the awakened made him liken the human race to beasts more than ever before, their power only adapting to match a new environmental threat. So few prayers ever went answered, and yet, on the brink of total species annihilation, nature, not god, had found a way. 

The train arrived exactly on time, depositing its passengers right into the heart of Oclesa City. As he exited the underground platform, Alexei was bathed in a wash of fresh scent. All along the manicured station courtyard were neat rows of Dogwood trees, each one heavy with white flowers, like the downy feathers of a mourning dove. It was a far cry from the humble streets of Masonville, that was for sure. In every direction, the only thing Alexei could see was progress. Tall, slender buildings stretched toward the sky like plants chasing the light, and the streets, utterly devoid of debris or litter, were filled with sleek cars, some of which Alexei could not even name. A bump from behind set him moving again, and he joined a small group of pedestrians that seemed to be moving in his desired direction. In his pocket, he turned over the soft paper map. He only needed to walk straight down Main Street, of that he was certain, but part of him wondered if seeing his friend’s familiar handwriting might make him feel less alone. At a crosswalk he pulled it out, opening it just enough to double check the cross street and rub his thumb across the hasty scrawl. He would make her proud. He did owe her a souvenir from the city, after all.