New World Order

New World Order

Status: In Progress

Genre: Science Fiction



Status: In Progress

Genre: Science Fiction



The land is dying, and so are her people.
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The land is dying, and so are her people.

Chapter1 (v.1) - Darkness

Author Chapter Note

What does it mean to be truly... free?

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: April 29, 2017

Reads: 100

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: April 29, 2017



1. Darkness 

Aeva closed her eyes. The sun and wind was warm upon her pale skin. She took one portly breath and grew dizzy, thinking, “This is what it must be… what it must feel like to be… free—”


In seconds, her large brown eyes fluttered open, quaking with intensity when illumined by the bright sun. Dumbfounded, she stared across the man. The man who, moments ago, had just bought her.

“That is your name, isn’t it—? A…Aeva?”

“Aeva…” She dreamily parroted.

It had been a while since she had heard her name spoken by someone else. Whilst she was in captivity, she had repeated her own name, day after day after day—for fear that she’d forget it, and now that it was being said aloud, it sounded foreign.

“Well, your paperwork says ‘Aeva…’ Do I have it wrong—?”

“N—No… it’s right. That’s my name—”

“Well then,” he said, straightening his jacket. “We’re going home.”

Aeva sat quietly with her knees pressed tightly together and her hands draped delicately atop her thighs. She looked out of the window intently, as the car darted across the countryside. Hundreds of thoughts filled her industrious little mind, until it settled upon one idea: home.

“Home…” She breathed softly.

Her heart ached at the sound of it; at the feel of the words upon her tongue, dripping down her plump, brown lips and disappearing into nothingness.

For the swiftest second, she ached for her own home. She yearned for it deeply. How dare he insult her so absent-mindedly? How could he gather the gall to call his home… hers?

Her warm skin grew even warmer. Hot, even. And before long, she felt her dainty hands recede into two tightly wound balls. They were trembling.

“—Are… you alright?”

At the sound of the strange man’s voice, her hands sprang open.

“Am—I alright?” She murmured quietly.

Was he joking? ‘Hell no,’ she wanted to say. ‘Of course I’m not alright.’ But instead, she pressed her open palms flatly atop her thighs and rubbed in silence.

After quite a long while, she grew weary and leaned her head against the car window. Within seconds, the gentle whirring of the wind whipping past the sunbaked glass lulled her to sleep.


“We’re here—”

Aeva sat at attention as the car slowed to a halt. It was dark now and she had no idea where…

She rolled down the window and could feel that the air was still warm. She could sense the faintest hint of salt in the slight wind and she could nearly taste the strong scent of earth crowding her nostrils. The sky felt so close to the ground—pressing down heavily upon the thick moisture in the air. They were near the sea.

“Get out.”

Aeva complied. She was accustomed to being ordered around and as far as she was concerned, he did it nicely. He also remembered her name and called her by it, too. The guards at the Female Containment Facility had called her so many things that she had scarcely remembered her own name.

She stepped out onto the dewy grass, and her feet sank into the warm ground. In the distance, she could just make out the spindly shadows of three figures steadily walking towards them.

Before the three could cross the line between darkness and light, they stopped. She cringed silently, feeling their eyes fall upon her, staring at her through the blue-black veil of night.

“The betwill?”

One hand rose from the darkness, clasping… something.

Upon seeing this, the strange man—Mr. Parks—grabbed Aeva’s arm, yanked her close to himself, and slowly inched towards the three shadowy figures up ahead.

Almost immediately, she recognized what was happening. He was trading her for contraband. She bowed her head and smirked. They were all the same. They all wore masks in public—pretending to be nice and civil, among other things—but they were all animals; every one of them.

Within moments, they stopped walking. Aeva could almost see the faces of the obscure figures in the distance. They were all so… tall; 6ft at least.

“You first,” one of the figures demanded.

Almost immediately, Mr. Parks pulled upward on Aeva’s arm and pushed her forward. She was so clumsy. Her feet were so unsteady that she could not get her bearings; so, she fell. Hard. And although the ground was damp and soft, it was still cruel. Her hands—tender, delicate, frail—absorbed most of the impact.

She sat up on her knees and examined her hands in the darkness. They were glistening and wet. She knew that it was blood, but in the darkness, everything was black. Black and midnight blue.

“Now you,” Mr. Parks said impatiently.

The figure, the same one as before, raised his hand again, revealing what he held so dearly. The betwill danced in the moonlight and glowed in the glass vial nestled between his fingers. With one small motion, he flicked the tiny bottle across the open space and it, too, fell into the dirt.

Afterwards, there was the sound of papers hitting the ground, the sound of fingers digging into the dirt, and the shuffling of feet. Noland Parks was gone.


Aeva lifted her eyes to an outstretched hand, black and barely discernible in the darkness, and squinted confusedly.

“I’m bleeding,” she said, sure that no Kokkino would ever touch her in such a state.

“We’re all bleeding,” he said, hand still extended. “Your blood—my blood—one blood.”

Aeva stared at his hand in the blackness and for the first time in a long while, she trusted in someone other than herself. Faithfully, she took his hand. He gripped tightly and quickly pulled her up from the dirt.

It could have been the blood rushing to her head—or it could have been the lack of nurture amassed over the many years she spent locked in confinement—but Aeva suddenly grew faint.

She swayed dizzily in the darkness and slowly tumbled forward. In one swift motion, the dark figure scooped her up into his arms and began to carry her across the vast expanse of obsidian land. She shivered, feeling the brisk wind whisk over her body for what seemed like an eternity under the thick blanket of night; and then, there was nothing.


© Copyright 2017 Jennifer Brighton. All rights reserved.


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