Shadows of Eden: A Novel

By T.J. Ravenscroft

In a world teetering on the brink of collapse, Lyra ventures into the mythical sanctuary of Eden in search of a cure for her brother, Finn. What she finds is far from paradise. Behind Eden's perfect facade lie secrets that threaten not only its inhabitants but the fragile remnants of humanity itself.

Guided by Cassian, a fellow outs

• Language: English
• Publisher: RWG Publishing
• Release date: Dec 10, 2024
• ISBN: 9798348117597

Book preview

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Chapter 1: A Crumbling World

The city loomed above her in fractured silence, its skeletal towers clawing at the smoke-gray sky. Lyra moved carefully, weaving through rubble and twisted metal, her senses sharp as a blade. Each step was precise; she knew better than to make a sound. This part of the city had been abandoned years ago, left to rot and crumble under its own weight, but even here, in the emptiness, there were ears listening and eyes watching.

She crouched low behind a pile of debris and peered out. Streets once pulsing with life were now littered with crumbling buildings and rusted-out cars, their windows shattered and seats covered in a thick layer of grime. Faded billboards hung at odd angles, their once-bright promises of a better tomorrow now haunting reminders of a world long lost. She smirked at the irony: A better tomorrow. What a lie.

Her fingers brushed against the strap of her backpack, checking it out of habit. The few items she’d collected today clinked softly inside—broken electronics, some metal scraps, a handful of plastic fragments that might fetch a decent price at the outskirts market. Nothing special, but enough to keep her and Finn going for another day, maybe two.

Finn. She pushed down the pang of worry gnawing at her. She had to stay focused, had to keep moving. There was no room for mistakes out here.

As she crept along the edge of an old storefront, a sharp sound split the silence—a bottle shattering against concrete. Lyra froze, dropping low and pressing herself into the shadows. Her heart pounded as she held her breath, eyes scanning the street. She spotted them a moment later—a group of scavengers, six or seven of them, moving down the street like a pack of wolves. They wore mismatched gear, cobbled together from whatever they’d looted over the years, and their eyes were hungry, their movements predatory.

Lyra held still, willing herself to blend into the crumbling wall beside her. She knew the type: desperate, ruthless, and unafraid to kill for scraps. If they spotted her, she’d be just another piece of meat, another target to strip down and toss aside.

The leader of the group—a man with a scar slicing through his cheek—stopped just a few feet from her hiding place. He looked around, sniffing the air like he could smell her fear. Lyra clenched her teeth, forcing herself to stay calm. Scarred Cheek muttered something under his breath, and the others laughed—a sharp, brittle sound that cut through the silence.

Eden, she heard one of them scoff. Yeah, sure. Paradise in the middle of this garbage heap. Next, they’ll be telling us the moon’s made of gold.

Eden. The word sparked a familiar ache within her, a mix of skepticism and impossible hope. She’d heard the stories, of course. Everyone had. Tales of a sanctuary untouched by ruin, where disease and famine didn’t exist. Where green fields stretched as far as the eye could see, and people still knew peace.

A fairy tale, she’d told herself. Nothing more.

Scarred Cheek gave one last look around before signaling for his group to move on. Lyra waited, breath caught in her throat, until they disappeared down the street. Then she let out a slow exhale, her shoulders sagging. She’d been lucky. Too lucky.

She rose from her crouch and glanced back toward the direction they’d gone. For a moment, the thought of following them crossed her mind. She could probably learn more if she stuck close, maybe even catch wind of a new scavenging spot. But then she shook her head. No, better not to push her luck. She’d already spent too much time out here as it was.

Tugging her backpack tighter against her shoulder, she continued through the ruins, her steps quieter, more cautious. The afternoon light had begun to fade, casting long shadows that made the city feel even more like a graveyard. She walked faster, her mind drifting back to Finn and the shelter she’d scraped together for them at the edge of the city. Her chest tightened as she imagined him lying there, his face pale and drawn, the fever eating away at him from the inside.

They said the sickness came from the water, or maybe the air. No one really knew for sure, only that once it took hold, it rarely let go. She couldn’t lose him—not after everything they’d survived. Not after everyone they’d lost. He was all she had left, and if he…

She swallowed hard, forcing the thought away. She wouldn’t let him die. Not if there was anything she could do to stop it.

Another hour passed as she moved through the ruins, keeping low and out of sight until, finally, the city’s jagged edges faded into the shadows of the outskirts. Her pace quickened as she neared the twisted wire fence that marked the boundary of their camp. Just a few more steps, and she’d be back, Finn would be there, and she’d remind herself that everything she did was worth it.

But as she reached the fence, a strange feeling settled over her, an echo of the scavengers’ laughter ringing in her ears. Eden.

Lyra slipped through the jagged wire of the camp’s border, ignoring the prick of metal on her skin. The outskirts were a sorry sight, even after all these years. Shacks patched together from old sheet metal and scavenged wood sprawled in clusters, their occupants listless and hollow-eyed. People moved like shadows through the maze of makeshift tents, huddling around fires or bargaining in muted voices. She kept her head down, trying not to draw attention as she wove through the narrow pathways that snaked between dwellings.

The air was thick with the smell of burning trash and stale sweat. A murmur of conversation floated past her as she maneuvered around a group arguing over the price of dried meat. Life here was an endless hustle, every deal brokered with grim desperation.

She finally reached the familiar corner where her tent stood, a patchwork of tarps and blankets she’d patched together over the years. Pushing back the flap, Lyra stepped inside, letting her eyes adjust to the dim interior. There, lying on a makeshift cot in the corner, was Finn.

His small frame looked even frailer in the half-light, his face pale against the tattered blanket she’d tucked around him. Dark circles lined his eyes, and his breathing was shallow, barely a whisper. For a moment, Lyra just stood there, taking him in, her heart heavy with a mix of fierce protectiveness and helplessness.

Hey, sleepyhead, she said softly, trying to keep her voice light as she crouched beside him. I brought some supplies. Got you a bit of medicine. Maybe tonight’s the night it’ll finally kick in, huh?

Finn’s eyes flickered open, just barely. He tried to smile, but it was a weak, tired gesture, like he was saving every ounce of energy he had. You…find anything good?

Lyra smiled, holding up a small packet of dried herbs and a bottle of what she hoped were antibiotics. Better than good. I traded that old watch, remember the one with the cracked face? Got us some meds and enough food to last a couple of days. She kept her tone casual, not mentioning how hard it had been to part with that watch—a small piece of their old life, before everything went to hell.

Finn nodded, his eyes drifting closed again. For a moment, she thought he’d fallen back asleep, but then his voice came, faint and wistful.

Did you hear anything…about Eden? he asked, his voice no more than a whisper.

Lyra’s heart sank. Eden again. It was becoming a constant theme in Finn’s fevered dreams, and though she knew it was a myth, a cruel story of hope dangled before the desperate, she didn’t have the heart to tell him that. Instead, she forced a smile, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

People are still talking about it, she said. They say it’s real, you know. A place where the sickness doesn’t touch anyone, where there’s food and clean water, even medicine. But you know how it is…they talk a lot. I wouldn’t get my hopes up.

Finn’s eyes glinted, a small spark of life breaking through the fever’s haze. But…what if it’s real? What if there’s…a place like that?

Lyra hesitated, looking down at her brother’s face, his cheeks flushed and feverish. What harm was there in letting him hold on to a little hope? It was the one thing she couldn’t seem to scavenge, the one thing this world was utterly void of. And yet, here he was, clinging to the idea of Eden as if it were the last light in a world full of shadows.

Maybe, she murmured finally, squeezing his hand. Maybe someday we’ll find it.

The next morning, Lyra set out early, her backpack strapped tightly to her shoulders as she made her way to the outskirts market. She moved through the winding paths, sidestepping broken glass and twisted scraps of metal that littered the ground. The sun, weak and filtered through a haze of smog, cast a sickly yellow light over everything, but at least it provided enough light to see by.

The market sprawled over a cleared stretch of dirt and asphalt, surrounded by makeshift stalls fashioned from old wooden crates, tattered tarps, and scavenged signs. People bartered with worn voices, haggling over dented cans, scraps of fabric, and anything else that might hold a sliver of value. Lyra clutched the few items she’d brought to trade, her eyes scanning the tables and stalls for anything useful.

The herbalist’s table caught her eye first. Bundles of dried leaves and roots lay in careful rows, each with a handwritten sign scrawled in fading ink. Most of it was too expensive, out of her reach, but she hoped she could manage to get something, even if it was just a small bag of medicinal herbs. She approached the herbalist, an older woman with deep-set eyes and a wary expression.

What can I get for this? Lyra held out a worn silver chain she’d found the day before, hoping it was valuable enough for a trade.

The herbalist eyed the chain with a frown, her fingers brushing over it before she finally nodded. I can give you a small bag of feverfew and some dried willow bark. It’s not much, but it might help with the boy’s fever.

Lyra’s heart lifted, and she quickly handed over the chain, accepting the herbs with gratitude. Thank you.

She was tucking the small packet of herbs into her bag when she overheard a nearby conversation. Two men stood at the edge of the market, voices low but intense, their faces half-hidden under worn hoods.

…told you, he’s seen it. Said it’s real, that Eden’s out there, one of the men was saying, his eyes glinting with excitement.

The other man shook his head, skeptical but intrigued. Eden’s a myth. Just something people made up to give themselves hope. There’s nothing left out there except dust and bones.

Maybe, the first man replied, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. But then how do you explain the stories? People disappearing, then showing up weeks later with supplies and stories of a paradise hidden in the wasteland?

Lyra felt her stomach tighten. Eden again. The same rumors, the same tales that floated around every settlement, every camp. She told herself not to listen, that it was just wishful thinking. But as she turned to leave, a voice caught her attention.

You there—girl with the herbs.

She looked up, and an old man was watching her from the edge of the market. He was thin and bent with age, wrapped in layers of patched-up clothes that hung loosely on his frame. His eyes, though faded with age, were sharp and steady as they met hers.

You’re looking for something more than fever medicine, aren’t you? he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

Lyra tensed, unsure whether to respond, but something in his gaze held her in place. I’m just looking for a way to keep my brother alive, she replied carefully, her hand instinctively tightening around the strap of her backpack.

The old man nodded, as if he understood more than she’d said. The world’s a cruel place now, he murmured, glancing around the market as though to make sure no one was listening. But there are still places that hold a piece of what was good, if you know where to look.

She felt a flicker of hope but quickly squashed it. You mean Eden, she said, unable to keep the skepticism from her voice.

He gave a thin smile. Call it what you like. Some say it’s a myth, others a miracle. But I’ve known people who’ve been there, girl. People who came back changed.

Lyra felt her pulse quicken despite herself. She’d heard rumors, overheard whispers, but this was the first time anyone had spoken to her directly about it. How do you know they weren’t lying?

Why would they? he replied simply. They didn’t gain anything by talking. In fact, most people who find Eden keep it to themselves, for fear it’ll be overrun. It’s not a place for everyone. Only the desperate, the ones who’ve got nothing left to lose.

She glanced down, weighing his words, and found herself caught between caution and the thin thread of hope she barely dared to entertain. If there was even the slightest chance that Eden existed, if it meant saving Finn…

How do I find it? she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The old man chuckled softly, shaking his head. Ah, that’s the thing, isn’t it? Everyone has to find their own way. Eden doesn’t show itself to just anyone. It’s as much a journey inside as it is across the wasteland.

She frowned, frustration seeping in. So, you don’t know.

Oh, I know, child. But it’s not my place to tell you. All I’ll say is this—if you want to find it, you’ll have to go deeper into the ruins than you’ve ever gone. It’s not an easy path, and not many make it back.

A chill ran through her, but Lyra nodded, a steely resolve settling within her. She thanked the man, slipping the herbs into her bag before heading back toward her shelter. His words echoed in her mind, weaving through her thoughts like a shadow.

As she left the market and made her way through the camp, she could almost feel Eden calling to her, a whisper of green fields and clear water just beyond the horizon.

That night, Lyra sat by Finn’s side, her fingers absently tracing circles on the worn fabric of his blanket. The dim lantern cast a faint glow over the small, cramped space, illuminating the hollowed-out look on her brother’s face. He was asleep, his breathing shallow and uneven, his brow beaded with sweat despite the coolness of the night air.

She’d given him the herbs she’d managed to trade for, making a bitter tea that he’d sipped with a grimace before drifting into a restless sleep. Still, she knew it wasn’t enough. It was only a matter of time before the fever took its toll, draining away the last bits of strength he had left.

The old man’s words echoed in her mind, filling the silence with tantalizing whispers of green fields and clean water, a place where sickness didn’t reach and hope wasn’t a fleeting, fragile thing. She knew better than to believe in fairy tales, but Finn’s quiet, labored breaths cut through her resolve, reminding her of how little time he had left.

Lyra leaned her head against the wall, her gaze drifting to the small window where the moon hung low, casting pale light over the wasteland beyond. If she did nothing, Finn would die here, in this shadow of a world. But if Eden was real, if there was even a chance it could save him…

The idea of leaving the camp alone terrified her. She’d barely made it through the outskirts on her scavenging runs, and those were in the safer parts of the city. Heading deeper into the ruins, into uncharted territory, was asking for trouble. The old man had warned her—it wasn’t a path many returned from. But what other choice did she have? Staying here meant watching her brother slip away, day by day.

As she sat there, watching Finn’s chest rise and fall in shallow breaths, her decision solidified like stone in her mind. Tomorrow, she’d set out for Eden.

The thought of leaving him alone gnawed at her, but she knew he was too weak to make the journey with her. She’d have to find someone in the camp willing to look after him, just until she returned. She reached out, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead.

I’m going to find it, she whispered. I’ll find Eden, and I’ll bring back what we need. Just hold on, Finn.

She stayed by his side for a while longer, letting the quiet settle around her as she planned her route through the city. She’d take only what she needed—her knife, a small ration of food, and her water flask. The old man had mentioned heading deep into the ruins, past the places she knew well. She had no map, no guide, only the hazy stories and her own determination.

Eventually, she lay down on the hard floor beside Finn’s cot, her eyes fixed on the sliver of moonlight that crept in through the window. The camp around them was silent, the usual hum of voices replaced by the quiet of a world gone dark. She closed her eyes, letting the image of Eden fill her mind—the lush greenery, the crystal-clear streams, the safety that seemed almost mythical. In her mind’s eye, she saw herself standing there, her brother by her side, his face no longer pale and drawn.

With that thought, she drifted into a fitful sleep, her mind already racing with the dangers and hopes of the journey ahead.

Dawn crept over the horizon, casting a weak, gray light over the camp as Lyra prepared for her journey. She moved quietly, not wanting to wake Finn as she gathered her meager supplies—a small flask filled with water, a stale crust of bread, and her knife, its handle worn from years of use. Each item felt heavier than it should, a reminder of how unprepared she was for what lay ahead. But she couldn’t afford to think about that now.

Her hand trembled as she pulled her mother’s worn leather jacket over her shoulders, its familiar weight grounding her. The jacket had been a part of her since she was old enough to remember, a relic of the time before. Now, it was her armor, a reminder of why she had to keep going.

Before stepping outside, Lyra knelt beside Finn, who lay bundled under their few blankets, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The sight of him—the fever-flushed cheeks, the too-thin frame—twisted her heart, fueling the fierce resolve that had driven her to this choice. She reached out, brushing her fingers gently across his forehead.

I’ll be back soon, she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. I’m going to find Eden. And when I come back, I’ll have everything you need. Just hold on a little longer, okay?

Finn stirred, his eyelids fluttering open. He gazed at her with a sleepy, confused expression, his lips parting in a faint smile. You’re… going out again?

She forced a smile, her throat tightening. Just for a little while. You rest, and when I get back, I’ll have something good for you. Promise.

Finn nodded, his gaze already drifting back into the haze of sleep. She pulled the blankets up around him, her fingers lingering for a moment before she forced herself to stand.

Outside, the camp was beginning to stir, though most people moved slowly, as if weighed down by the burden of another day in this crumbling world. She kept her head down, weaving through the clusters of makeshift shelters until she spotted Lena, a woman she’d known for years, who had a young son of her own.

Lena, Lyra said, approaching her. Can I ask you something?

Lena looked up, her face creasing with worry as she saw the seriousness in Lyra’s eyes. Of course. What is it?

Lyra took a breath, steeling herself. I need to go… out of the camp. For a couple of days, maybe more. Finn’s too sick to come with me, and I need someone to look after him.

Lena’s eyes softened as she glanced toward Lyra’s tent, where Finn lay hidden behind the worn fabric. You’re really going out there alone?

Lyra nodded, her jaw set. I don’t have a choice. He’s getting worse, and… I think I might have a lead on somewhere that could help. But I can’t take him with me. Not like this.

Lena hesitated, then placed a hand on Lyra’s shoulder. You’re a brave one, Lyra. I’ll keep an eye on him. I can bring him food and check in on him. Just… come back safe, all right? He needs you more than anything.

Lyra swallowed hard, nodding as a wave of relief washed over her. Thank you. I owe you, Lena. More than I can say.

Without another word, she turned and headed for the edge of the camp, her heart pounding as she faced the wasteland beyond. She’d crossed its borders many times, but never with a destination so far, so unknown. And yet, as the gray morning stretched out before her, she felt a spark of determination flaring to life, fueled by the fragile hope that somewhere out there, Eden might truly exist.

The outskirts of the city loomed in the distance, a jagged skyline of crumbling towers and rusted structures half-swallowed by creeping vines and decay. She took a deep breath, feeling the cold air bite her lungs, and took her first step forward.

The path was familiar at first, winding through broken roads and alleys filled with rubble and twisted metal. She moved quickly, keeping her senses sharp, her footsteps barely a whisper against the cracked pavement. It was the same path she’d taken a hundred times before on scavenging runs, but each step felt heavier, as if the weight of her purpose had transformed this journey into something unknown.

Hours passed, the bleak landscape blurring into a haze of grays and browns as she ventured deeper into the heart of the city. The ruins grew more ominous, towering shadows cast by skeletal remains of skyscrapers that had once been symbols of a world long gone. She clutched the strap of her bag tightly, her fingers brushing against the hilt of her knife.

As midday approached, she heard a distant sound—a low, shuffling noise that set her nerves on edge. She froze, pressing herself against the cold metal of an abandoned car, her eyes scanning the street ahead. A group of scavengers moved through the rubble, their figures hunched and wary, each one armed with crude weapons.

She held her breath, willing herself to stay perfectly still as they passed by, close enough that she could see the weariness etched into their faces. They were rough, dangerous men, the type she’d been warned about since she was a child. She waited, her heart pounding, until their footsteps faded into the distance.

When she was sure they were gone, she let out a slow breath, pushing herself away from the