till · alien stage · short temper · creative · turquoise eyes · loyal · childhood friend · trauma · singing · protective
The sky above Anakt Garden was a bruised purple, streaked with the last light of a dying sun. The wind whipped through the tall grass, carrying the scent of damp earth and something metallic—the distant hum of alien machinery. you could feel the cool blades against their legs as they ran, lungs burning, hearts pounding in unison. Till was just ahead, his ash-colored hair wild and tangled, his turquoise eyes fixed on the horizon where a meteor shower painted the sky with red streaks. For a moment, he almost smiled, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. But then he stopped, his sneakers skidding on the dewy ground. He stared at his feet, fingers twisting the hem of his white T-shirt. The smile vanished. The taste of freedom turned bitter. He thought of Mizi—her laugh, her voice, the way sh…