God’s Gonna Cut You Down

— Preview Chapters

1. It’s A Sin To Tell A Lie

Diego stumbled, feet tangling as he fell onto the station’s metal deck,scraping his palms raw. Panicked evacuees surged around him, shoving, jostling, desperate to escape. His mother stepped between him and the nightmare, arms spread wide, her voice breaking in a shout.

“Run!”

The unbearable light of the extra-dimensional Kraal flooded the corridor in oscillating colors that held no meaning. Colors that didn’t belong in the world Diego knew. His stomach twisted and churned. The space station’s walls, the floor—his mother’s silhouette—all flared and faded in sickening waves that bent the edges of reality. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself upright on wobbly legs.

“Come on, Maria!” his father yelled, lurching to grab her arm.

But it was too late.

Pins of searing light lanced from the Kraal, striking his parents. Their bodies dissolved into pulsating, orange matter, the edges blackening and curling into vaporous ash. The air carried the last remnants away, leaving only their clothes in a lifeless pile on the ground.

Diego couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. His mind screamed at him to move, to run—but his body remained frozen. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t comprehend the Kraal’s shape—its shifting form and tendrils of light stretching from the corners defied all reason.

His heart beat once, deafening, and then the Kraal’s mind seared into his skull. He doubled over, retching, and his legs gave out. The world tilted, and he collapsed into darkness.

***

Diego came to with a jolt, the blare of alarms cutting through the fog in his mind. Red emergency lights pulsed overhead, sending flashes of color across the corridor.

He coughed and spat, wiping his mouth, bile burning his throat. Pushing up on shaky arms, he avoided the mess he’d made and staggered to his feet.

The Kraal was gone, the hallway empty. His parents’ clothes lingered in piles where they’d last stood.

The deck shuddered, sending him stumbling into the wall. A distant roar rattled Serenity Orbital-1’s structure as, explosive decompression ripped through another section somewhere deeper in Charlie Ring.

Diego ran, legs unsteady, his breath ragged as a primal instinct to survive drove him toward the crowded Serenity Link Transit station. There, bodies crushed in from all sides, everyone shoving and clawing for space as they waited for the next Pod to arrive. The Link system was their lifeline—an elevator-like transport capable of moving in any direction through a network of tubes spanning the station’s five rings, from Alpha to Echo.

Diego pushed through the crowd, knowing he’d be left behind if he didn’t. The deck jolted, drawing a scatter of screams from the packed transit station. A chime played, followed by a robotic voice crackling over the public address system. “Please allow passengers to exit the pod before boarding.”

Doors opened, and Diego moved with the throng surging forward in a desperate wave. His smaller frame helped him slip between panicked adults as they pressed into the cramped Link Pod. Ducking under an outstretched arm, he squeezed through the narrow gap and stumbled inside just before the door hissed shut.

It was crammed beyond capacity, holding twice, perhaps three times the number it was designed for. The air hung thick with fear and the sour tang of sweat. People gasped to catch their breath and quietly muttered to each other. In a dissonant contrast to the chaos and horrors they had barely escaped, the Ink Spots’ tune “It’s A Sin To Tell A Lie” played softly overhead.

Diego rubbed his scraped palms as he scanned the faces around him, and then his stomach lurched—not from the Pod’s motion but from the familiar face glaring at him through the crowd.

Raphael.

Of all people, it had to be Raphael.

Their eyes locked, and Raphael’s expression twisted into a scowl of open contempt.

Leaning toward his parents, he muttered something too low for Diego to hear, and both adults turned, their gazes dark.

Diego’s mouth went dry. He swallowed hard, hands curling into fists. Glancing around, he hoped for an ally but only saw eyes narrowing in recognition. Low whispers rippled through the Pod, the words sharp: “Is that him?” “It’s his fault.”

The passengers shifted, subtly but deliberately, until a bubble of space formed around him. Diego tugged his hair forward—a habitual gesture ingrained in him as he tried to hide his disfigured face and stared at the floor. His heart pounded, and a cold knot tightened in his chest.

Accusations had shadowed Diego for all of his thirteen years. Claims that he was a growler —one of the twisted, mutated abominations born from the void storms—the walking dead that had once been human. They whispered he was some kind of void terror, capable of speaking with the growlers. Others claimed he was something far darker—that he could commune with the eldritch Kraal.

But Diego’s scars weren’t from any void storm. He’d been born with the mottled patterns twisting across his face and arm. Worse still, his left eye held sparks of purple and an unsettling violet shimmer that only deepened their fear.

His parents had always denied the accusations, but the rumors weren’t entirely without merit. Diego had a gift, one his mother called tu sentido dotado. By stretching his senses, he could detect the void terrors lurking nearby and even push them away. He could also make himself invisible to them with a skill his father dubbed masking.

Over time, Diego had refined this technique, even learning to extend it to other people. Despite the community shunning him, he’d been their guardian, secretly keeping the void terrors at bay.

But Diego couldn’t stop the recent Kraal attack.

Once a bustling space station above Arcadia, Serenity had remained free of the Kraal for decades—until now. They first appeared from beyond the universe decades ago during an event known as the Arrival. Tearing through the fabric of reality in a cataclysmic attack, the Kraal shattered intergalactic society, leaving only a few scattered survivors clinging to life across the ruined worlds—including those on Serenity Orbital-1.

The Pod moved through the troubled space station, heading toward Bravo Ring. Diego’s chin quivered as a numbing wail tightened around his heart. Bitter memories gnawed at him. His failure to protect the community. His failure to save his parents.

For a moment, he let the memories flood back, the grief crushing him with the pressure of a collapsing star. His heart thudded slow and heavy, every beat a dull, aching toll as he struggled to grasp what had just happened.

His mom, his dad—they were gone.

He fought to keep the tears from falling as his throat tightened.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Diego clenched his eyes shut, desperate to shift his thoughts. His fingers brushed against the soft fabric of Donna’s scarf. He had spent the entire morning before the attack clutching it, his emotions tumbling in free fall as he rehearsed the words he’d wanted to say to her until he’d finally mustered the courage.

But his resolve had shattered when he saw her in the plaza, laughing with her friends. Shame and self-loathing had twisted in his chest, sending a storm of emotions surging through him. It was one thing for Donna to be friendly to a freak like him in private, but in front of others? And to be sweet with him? What was he even thinking?

The Pod lurched, its doors hissing open, allowing a chaos of noise to crash over them. The transit terminal outside churned as survivors flooded in from Pod after Pod.

Bravo Ring.

His parents had often voiced concerns about the zealous religious group controlling this section of the station. They didn’t trust La Familia’s prophet and leader, Carlos. Diego could still hear his father’s soft voice, now firm with conviction: “Beware of a man who promises salvation yet demands everything for himself. Carlos twists the words of the good book, using people’s faith against them, erasing who they are until they believe his way is the only way. Anyone who questions him disappears. That’s not a prophet, Diego. That’s a tyrant.”

Carlos’ flock now scrambled to impose order on the crush of evacuees. The plaza had changed over the years, yet much like those on Charlie Ring, traces of its old art-deco grandeur remained. Decorative columns adorned with boxy patterns were very similar—columns he had once scaled, earning him a stern reprimand from a patrol bot.

Though here, La Familia had left its mark. Religious iconography dominated the space, with shrines to various saints filling niches around the walls. Each was elaborately adorned, showcasing hand-painted images lit by the soft glow of flickering lights. Even with the thick crowd, the air carried a faint scent of melted wax and incense.

Men in drab jumpsuits worked alongside women in equally plain dresses, shouting instructions and shepherding the evacuees into queues. Others sat behind makeshift desks, scribbling notes or typing commands into green-lit terminals.

Diego slipped out of the Pod with the other evacuees, hoping to disappear into the flood of people. Edging toward a far corner, he wondered how long it would be until he could go back to his home on Charlie Ring when a sharp voice called out.

“You! Boy!” A stern-faced man barked, jabbing a finger toward a freshly set-up table where a new line was forming. “Over there!”

Diego froze, heart pounding. On instinct, he reached for the gift he loathed, thinking he could use his masking and slip away—but the thought of becoming the very thing they feared twisted in his gut, stopping him cold. He never wanted to use it again—not here, not ever.

Obeying the command, he kept his head low and shuffled into the line, hoping to avoid attention. When his turn finally came, he stepped up to a woman seated at the table, keeping his head down and letting his bangs fall over his face.

“Name?” she snapped, then quickly added with a scolding tone, “Did nobody teach you to look up when speaking to your Elders.”

Diego reluctantly straightened. The woman’s eyes widened, and she let out a startled sound at the sight of his features, fear flickering across her expression.

“Name?” she repeated, her voice thinner than before.

“D—Diego,” he stammered, his voice cracking, as it had done more often lately. He clenched his fists, praying this would end quickly. The last thing he needed was a scene.

Her gaze darted around the room. “And your parents?”

The question came as a punch to the gut. Diego’s throat tightened, the words of an answer refusing to form.

The woman’s pen hovered mid-air, her brow furrowing. “Well?”

Diego shook his head, lips pinched tight. His vision blurred, and he knuckled his eyes as the tempest of emotions stormed within him.

“Hold that boy!” a voice bellowed.

The plaza stilled, heads turning to follow the shout. The crowd parted, revealing a man striding in their direction. He wore a tailored, immaculate suit, and Diego knew it could be none other than Alcalde Carlos Garcia.

Deep lines etched the man’s sienna-toned face, marking him as one who had seen too much in a life shaped by unforgiving hardship. His cold, unsettling eyes commanded attention. Long, gray hair flowed down his back, and a silver mustache, twisted into perfect handlebars, adorned his upper lip. The whole image was one of wisdom—but it wasn’t a comforting aura.

At his side, Raphael’s father jabbed a finger toward Diego.

“That’s him!” he shouted. “He’s the one who summoned the Kraal! He’s a growler!”

All eyes turned on Diego, the weight of their stares colder than the dread twisting in his chest. Accusations swept outward, driven by a need to find a scapegoat for the horror that had descended on them.

“He called the Kraal here!”

“It’s all his fault!”

Diego wanted to protest, to shout a denial—but he knew he only had moments to act. Hands clawing at him, he lunged for the folding table, scattering papers as he scrambled onto it. The woman stumbled back, screaming. “He’s coming for me!”

Diego gripped the column, using its geometric patterns as footholds to climb out of reach. Cries to follow him filled the air as he swung a leg over the railing at the top and rolled onto the balcony.

His heart pounded as his eyes darted around, searching for an escape. Fabric rolls and weaving frames littered the space. At the far end, an archway beckoned, promising a path deeper into the station.

Diego bolted toward it, veering to yank down a fire alarm at the last second. Sirens blared, red lights flashing overhead as a bulkhead door began to drop in the archway, a failsafe designed to seal off fires—exactly what he’d hoped for.

Shouts rang out as members of La Familia rounded the corner and spotted him.

He sprinted for the narrowing gap and dove under the door just in time, sealing the plaza’s clamor and confusion behind him and cutting off his pursuers.

He straightened, the fire alarms still blaring, and ran. Serenity stretched endlessly ahead, a relic of the Union of Stars’ golden age. Once built to house tens of thousands, it now sheltered only a few hundred. Surely, there had to be somewhere he could disappear within its maze of empty corridors.

Although Serenity’s Rings may have started as identical in design, decades of modifications had given each a distinct character. Bravo Ring’s halls echoed the familiar layout of Charlie Ring, yet the subtle differences only set Diego on edge. He ventured deeper, the knot between his shoulders tightening.

Memories of Miguel’s hideout in an abandoned cargo bay on Charlie Ring lingered in Diego’s mind. Maybe, in some forgotten corner on this Ring, he could carve out something for himself, too.

2. He’ll Have to Go

After days of running and hiding, Diego had reached his limit. He wedged himself behind a support beam, legs trembling as he pushed into the narrow space. Each breath came ragged and uneven, and his limbs weighed heavily, refusing to move—he had nothing left to give.

Each time he thought he’d found a safe place to rest, the distant echoes of his pursuers’ voices drove him to flee once more. Food and sleep were distant memories. His pounding head and churning stomach were reminders he had overused his gift. He wouldn’t be able to mask himself again anytime soon—not even if his life depended on it. Footsteps echoed along the corridor, growing louder with each beat of his racing heart.

Serenity was the only home Diego had ever known. Orbiting high above Arcadia, he often gazed down at the planet through the station’s viewports, imagining what life on the surface might be like. The adults had always warned that Arcadia’s surface was far worse off than the station—a hostile world plagued by void storms, with savage raiders, and abominations prowling its wastelands.

But now, exhaustion gnawing at him, he had to wonder if it might be easier to disappear down there than in Serenity.

“There he is!” someone shouted, their flashlight sweeping into the corner. Diego lifted his arm to shield his face, blinking against the glare.

A voice barked. “Bring him to the lift. We’ll send him down immediately.”

Rough hands grabbed his arms, yanking him upright. His thoughts spiraled in confusion. Down? Down where?

An announcement crackled over the station’s intercom. “The boy has been captured.”

The cold words wallowed heavily in Diego’s gut as they dragged him to the central plaza. A crowd had gathered, faces filled with anger and scorn. Diego’s gaze darted across each one, searching desperately for Donna, his chest tightening.

She has to be here. She has to be alive.

Miguel stood near the front, at least. Relief flickered in Diego’s chest at the sight of a familiar face, but it was snuffed out just as quickly. Miguel’s eyes darted away the moment their gazes met, a flush of embarrassment brushing his cheeks. The sting of rejection pierced deeply, confirming his isolation. No one came to his defense. No one would dare.

The crowd’s judgment pressed down on him. He could see it in their eyes—there were no looks of compassion, no doubts about his guilt. They had already decided his fate. They weren’t here for justice. They were here for punishment. To watch “the boy who had summoned the Kraal destroyer” get what he deserved.

Anger rippled through them, a volatility on the edge of exploding. Jeers erupted—“Monster!” “Murderer!”—and small objects began to fly: a crumpled scrap of paper, a discarded cup, bits of old food. A spanner clanged against the floor near Diego’s feet, making him flinch.

Alcalde Carlos stepped forward, a rosary dangling from one hand as if to underscore his authority. He raised his other arm high and the crowd stilled. In a matter of days, this man had consolidated control over Serenity Orbital-1, turning La Familia’s compound into the station’s seat of power. The devotion etched into the faces of his followers made it clear how deeply his influence ran.

Standing next to Carlos, Diego looked utterly ragged. His standard-issue blue jumpsuit was smudged, rumpled, and torn after days of fleeing and hiding.

“You are banished to the lower rings,” Carlos began, his gravelly voice resonating as his fingers rolled the beads of the rosary. “Your fate is now in God’s hands.”

Diego’s breath hitched. The crowd, the noise, the scowling faces—they all blurred into a distant hum as the sentence sank in. The lower rings? They were off-limits—a death sentence for anyone sent there.

Carlos held out a kitchen knife barely four inches long. “Take this for your protection, son,” he said solemnly. “You are on God’s errand now. Find and destroy the Kraal. I’ve received a revelation that you can do this for us. We believe in you.”

Diego stared at the knife. The gesture, the sentence—it all left him bewildered. Slowly, he reached out to take the cold Bakelite handle, glancing back to the crowd, hoping for at least one sympathetic face.

Miguel was gone.

Carlos leaned close, his heavy hand clamping onto Diego’s shoulder as he whispered, “We don’t need you going full-on growler, my boy, so it’s best you use this to finish things quickly.” His breath was hot against Diego’s ear as he added, “Do the honorable thing, you hear me?”

Carlos’ words slithered into Diego’s mind, burrowing deeper until he grasped their real meaning, and his stomach churned in a cold, unsettling disbelief. Surely, Carlos wasn’t suggesting he should end himself, was he?

The lower rings—God help him—were overrun with growlers and abominations. This small knife would be of no help against them, so what else could it be for?

Carlos adjusted Diego’s collar with fatherly precision in a final display of control. For one fleeting moment, Diego dared to hope this was some twisted ruse, that Carlos might send him to the brig instead. But then, with a quick flick of his wrist, Carlos snatched Diego’s passkey.

His heart lurched and he lunged for the card. But Carlos moved with surprising speed, slipping the passkey into his pocket with an infuriating smirk. Diego’s fate was sealed without it—he’d be locked out of nearly every part of the station. He’d be lucky to survive a day.

A seething storm of anger, frustration, and a crushing sense of betrayal all threatened to erupt at once. Diego longed to cry out, to demand justice. His throat tightened with words he couldn’t bring himself to say. He wanted to scream that it wasn’t his fault, but the words lodged in his throat.

Running had given him plenty of time to think—too much time. The accusations that he had summoned the Kraal to the station spun in his mind on an endless, maddening loop. The worst part?

He wasn’t sure they were wrong.

Even still, he reeled at the sentence. They were actually doing it—they were sending him down there. How did they expect him to survive?

“God be with you,” Carlos intoned, his voice heavy with dramatic solemnity as he stepped back from the lift.

The door rattled closed in a grinding clatter, sealing Diego inside.

A mechanical clank shook the floor, and the lift lurched into motion, beginning its descent into the depths of Serenity Orbital-1’s lower rings.

Diego pressed his back against the wall, the knife trembling in his hand, the judgement lingering in his chest.

What do they expect me to do?

But he knew that answer.

The knife slipped from his grip, clattering to the floor.

3. Earth Angel

A cold, leaden worry coiled around Diego’s spine, tightening with every passing second of the lift’s transit. After what felt like an eternity, the metal doors cycled open in layers, revealing the abandoned corridors of Delta Ring. Even knowing it wouldn’t help, fear drove Diego to reach down and retrieve the knife, his grip tightening until his knuckles turned white. While it wasn’t much, it was something.

He lingered at the lift’s threshold, his chest heaving with rapid, shallow breaths that formed faint white puffs in the chilled air—a biting reminder of the vacuum of space beyond the orbital’s walls. Delta Ring’s lockdown set the environmentals at bare minimums, leaving the temperature noticeably colder than the habitable Rings.

With slow steps, he ventured out, his senses on high alert for any hint of danger. The rattling of the lift’s doors closing behind him carried loudly through the quiet air. Startled, Diego whirled around and hammered at the button, but the doors remained stubbornly shut.

He needed a passkey.

Then he heard it—a distant grunt, the cry of a growler echoing through the back halls. Diego’s pulse spiked, and he instinctively reached for his gift. A sharp, white flash lanced through his mind—exhaustion made using el sentido dotado almost unbearable.

And, of course, nothing happened.

Whether from days on the run without sleep or just another symptom of adolescence, his gift had become as unreliable as his voice, which had started cracking at the worst times. Straining for it now only led to splitting headaches.

He moved down a short hall, emerging into a plaza. His eyes darted around, scanning frantically for a hiding spot. The growlers could arrive any second.

Dust floated in the air, illuminated by a few dim lights, their flickering bulbs clinging to life. Scattered metal benches, abandoned kiosks, faded advertisements, piles of clothing, and planter boxes cradling the skeletal remains of trees filled the space.

Where to hide? He dismissed several options out of hand, like climbing on top of a kiosk. Without being able to mask his presence with his gift, the growlers would see him. His eye caught on a trash can tipped on its side. Diego dove in, pulling ancient garbage over himself, heart hammering, and prayed it would be enough.

The cold air seeped through his lightweight jumpsuit, sending shivers rippling up his spine and down his arms. The standard attire, ideal for Charlie Ring’s steady 21 degrees Celsius, offered little protection against the biting chill down here. Diego would need to find something warmer—and soon.

He waited, breaths shallow, his mind wandering despite the danger. How many growlers could be down here? Hundreds? Thousands? The uncertainty gnawed at him. Before the Arrival, Serenity had been home to so many. Were they all still down here as growlers?

Every void storm brought chaos, driving void terrors from the lower decks back up into the upper rings—or worse, turning more people into growlers. From the stories Diego had heard, growlers were so vicious that even a single one could take down several soldiers if it got too close. Rather than risk a fight, the defense squads had learned to herd them into maintenance lifts, sending them to the lower rings.

Where he now was.

The steady rattle of the station’s environmental systems was the only sound breaking the stillness. As his pulse slowed, Diego felt a twinge of embarrassment—he’d been jumping at shadows. Resigned to venturing out without using his gift to sense danger, he pushed the trash aside and crawled out, cautiously scanning his surroundings.

At the plaza’s center stood a dry, tiered fountain, its mint green and pale pink tiles fractured and crumbling. Once-polished chrome accents were dulled by layers of grime and dust. Tattered storefronts bordered the space, their windows shattered, signage broken and dark.

A balcony wrapped the plaza, reflecting the desolation below. The promenade extended beyond in both directions, forming a mall-like corridor that ran through the heart of each of Serenity’s Rings.

Faded advertisements, relics of a brighter time, clung to the walls and kiosks. One depicted a sleek starship soaring through space, accompanied by the tagline: “Embark on an Interstellar Journey with Quantum Quest Travel Agency.” Another, colors faded, featured a beaming teenaged girl in a plaid skirt, playfully leaning forward with her hands on her knees, proclaiming, “Buy Tomorrow’s Fashion Today at Bobby Soxers!”

Diego weighed his options carefully. The residents of Serenity Orbital had primarily inhabited the Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie Rings for the past two decades, bringing many alterations and changes. Stores were gutted, diners repurposed, and offices converted into makeshift homes.

But in Delta Ring, everything had remained untouched since the events of the Arrival years ago. Like his brief time on Bravo Ring, it all felt familiar, yet the differences rattled an unsettling dissonance in him.

The plaza’s shops presented various pre-Arrival amenities, including a café, a convenience store, a Starlight Inn, and even a Serenity Link transit entrance. However, what held his attention was the Atomic Pizzarama directly across the plaza, its dusty sign depicting a stylized mouse striking a rock-n-roll pose, strumming a guitar.

Diego paused, recalling the hours he and Miguel had spent huddled in the hideout, flipping through comics—especially those starring Atomic Pizzarama’s iconic mascot, Remy, and his intrepid friends on their galactic escapades. Miguel had always dreamed of visiting an Atomic Pizzarama and had often speculated that one might have existed on the orbital.

Now, standing before the dilapidated facade, Diego shook off the wave of nostalgia. He couldn’t afford sentimentality. Food, water, and shelter from the terrors lurking on this Ring were all that mattered now.

Rubbing his hands to warm them, he studied the promenade loop as it curved away in both directions. Every shadow seemed a potential hiding spot for the growlers. He glanced around, unable to shake the feeling of being watched, as if unseen eyes followed his every move.

A pile of clothing nearby caught his attention. Similar heaps littered the plaza, scattered into corners or laying in piles here and there.

A jacket, half-buried in a heap of clothes, beckoned to Diego. He reached for it with fingers stiff from the cold, but an ache rose in his chest as memories of the Kraal’s attack surged through his mind. People fading away at its touch, leaving behind only the clothes they once wore. At that moment, he realized he stood in a graveyard, the scattered garments serving as silent memorials to the fallen.

A wave of cold, heavy sorrow gripped Diego’s heart. These piles were markers of those who had once walked the orbital’s halls and would never be seen again.

Like his parents.

No matter how hard he tried to forget that horrific moment when the Kraal took them, it remained seared into his mind. His heart clenched, a crushing weight pressing down as grief flooded through him. While running from La Familia, he’d struggled against the urge to stop and cry, but no more. The dam broke. The sorrow overcame him, and he let go.

Hot tears streamed down his cheeks as he sank to the floor, huffing, struggling to avoid wailing. He couldn’t stop thinking of all the tender moments his parents had given him. His mother’s quiet humming while making breakfast. The sound of his father’s guitar while they sang together at night. No more. Never again would he hear his mother’s gentle laugh.

It hollowed him out, leaving behind an ache he couldn’t ignore and had no idea how to fill.

Was it true? Had he summoned the Kraal that killed his parents? The thought raked at his mind, but he slammed the door on it, locking it away. The possibility was too much to bear.

Even drowning in sorrow, Diego knew he couldn’t afford to lose himself to guilt and despair—not now. Any noise could draw unwanted attention. Sniffling, he fought to regain control, stifling his sobs and wiping his tears away with trembling hands.

Despite his desperate need for warmer garments, grief rooted him in place. These weren’t his parents’ clothes—he knew that—but knowing they had once belonged to someone who was cherished and loved left an ache in his chest. He just couldn’t bring himself to sift through the piles.

Remembering Donna’s scarf, still tucked in his pocket, his thoughts went to her. She would love it; he was sure of that. He just had to keep it safe. But she’d also understand; she’d want him to use it. With that thought, he wrapped it around his neck, feeling a slight warmth spread through him. Not much, but better than nothing. Someday, after all of this, he’d find her and give it to her.

She’d survived. He was sure of it.

***

Two years ago.

Diego’s heart grew heavier with each dreadful step he took toward his classroom on Charlie Ring. It was time again for mandatory communal service—a monthly ritual on Charlie Ring, where all the youth were assigned tasks vital to maintaining the station. But it was an ordeal he dreaded—not because of the work, but because of Raphael.

Now, as he neared the classroom, the walls seemed to close in with every step, his stomach turning to ice.

This morning, Diego had tried to avoid it altogether, feigning illness in a desperate bid to stay home. But his mother had seen through the act.

Only a handful of schoolmates were selected for each day of service, so he didn’t know exactly who would be there—but he had heard that Raphael was among them.

“Hey, Donna, check this out!” Raphael’s boisterous voice echoed down the hallway, freezing Diego mid-step. Just hearing it sent an icy stab through him. A loud crash followed, accompanied by laughter.

Diego took slow, steady breaths, trying to calm his churning stomach, but it was no use. Resigned to the day ahead, he clenched his fists and stepped into the classroom.

Raphael lay sprawled on the floor amidst a tangle of overturned chairs. A cheeky grin was plastered on his face as if the chaos were his crowning achievement. His stout, well-fed sidekick, Julian, extended a hand to help him up.

The rest of the group rounded out the cohort: a girl Diego had only seen in passing—Donna—and a boy, Miguel, whom Diego vaguely recognized from a shared class but had never spoken to.

Raphael’s eyes locked onto Diego, his grin twisting into a dark smirk. “Well, well, well,” he drawled. “If it isn’t Diego, the void terror! Beware, folks—a growler walks among us! Better clear the way!”

Julian chimed in. “El duende, you ever look in the mirror? Or are they all broken in your house?”

Diego’s ears burned as his gaze darted around the room for support. But the others avoided his eyes, their silence as cutting as the taunts.

With gritted teeth, he forced himself to ignore Raphael. He’d get through this day like he had countless others before. Nearby, Miguel straightened the chairs into a circle as they waited for their advisor to arrive.

Diego reached for an empty seat, but Raphael’s foot shot out, kicking it away.

“Sorry, amigo,” Raphael sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. “Chairs aren’t for growlers.”

Diego turned away, chest tightening, eyes stinging.

Donna’s voice rang out, and with just a few simple words, she wielded more power than all of Raphael’s actions ever had. “You know what, Rafe? You can be a real jerk.”

The room fell silent, every eye turning to Donna.

To Diego, she transformed into an avenging angel. Her words cut through the air like a divine proclamation.

Raphael’s smirk faltered, his bravado crumbling under Donna’s gaze. “Hey, what do you mean, doll?” he protested weakly.

Donna’s expression darkened, her gaze pinning Raphael in place. “Why do you always have to pick on Diego?”

Raphael squirmed, giving a dismissive wave. “It’s all in good fun. Diego knows I’m not serious, right?”

Scowling, Diego clenched his fists, swallowing the retort burning on his tongue, his silence the only answer. Mercifully, their instructor arrived, ending the exchange.

Fate took a turn for the better that day when Diego was paired with Donna. He braced himself, expecting her to refuse—plenty of other service days had passed with him working alone. But instead, Donna stepped forward with a smile.

They worked in relative quiet, sorting through bins of worn-out parts in a maintenance bay. Their task was simple but tedious: separating components that could be refurbished from those that were too far gone. Diego welcomed the silence—it spared him from the awkward conversations that so often came with his schoolmates.

But Donna surprised him. She didn’t flinch when her gaze met his, nor did she recoil as if he were something to fear. Now and then, she gave him a thoughtful look, but there was no malice in her expression—only curiosity.

The kindness in her presence felt almost surreal. Simply being near her was a soothing balm; if that wasn’t enough, a delightful scent of flowers and strawberries trailed in her wake.

Diego found himself stealing glances at her, trying to understand why she acted so oddly. Other than his parents, everyone else treated him with fear and scorn.

Midway through prying apart a casing, his tool slipped, slicing his palm. He hissed, the part falling from his hand in a clatter. Blood welled up as he clenched his fist.

“Diego!” Donna cried out, coming to his side in an instant. She grabbed his wrist and gently pried his fingers open.

“It’s nothing,” he mumbled, instinctively pulling his hand away.

“No, it’s not!” she shot back, holding it firmly. With a tug that left little room for argument, she led Diego to a nearby first-aid kit, retrieving bandages and antiseptic.

He winced, sucking in a sharp breath as she dabbed the wound. “It hurts when you mess with it,” he growled. “I’ll be fine!”

But he didn’t pull his hand away. Her fingers were warm, and he didn’t want her to let go.

Donna smirked, her dimples sending his heart into a tailspin. “Oh, stop whining. It’s just antiseptic.”

She carefully wrapped his hand in the bandage. “There. Good as new.”

“Thanks,” Diego muttered, drawing his hand close and avoiding her gaze.

“Why do you do that?”

“What?”

“Look away,” she said, tilting her head.

His hand shot up, almost without thinking, tugging his long hair over the scars on his face. “Just… ’cause.”

Donna let out a sharp huff. “Right. So it’s easier to ignore everything? To let the guys treat you like that?”

Diego froze, caught off guard by her directness.

“What?” he squeaked.

Donna’s expression softened. “Everyone treats you like you’re—I don’t know—something to be afraid of. But I haven’t ever seen that. You’re just you.”

He shrugged, his shoulders curling inward. “It’s easier if I don’t fight it. Gives them one less reason to make things worse, maybe.”

“That’s stupid,” she said bluntly, crossing her arms.

Her words stung, but when he glanced at her, there was no ill will in her expression—just a soft smile, her eyes showing concern mixed with frustration on his behalf.

“I’m serious,” she said, stepping closer. “Don’t let them treat you that way. And you shouldn’t look down all the time. You have nice eyes. They’re… unique.”

Diego blinked, heat rising to his cheeks. “They’re weird,” he muttered, quickly looking away, knowing the violet glimmer in his left eye was ugly.

“Are not,” Donna replied softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “They’re… cute, actually. And your eyelashes? Totally unfair—they’re so long and dark. I wish mine looked like that.”

His heart lurched, a flutter of disbelief and confusion floundering in his chest. He turned abruptly, rushing back to the bin of parts. “We have work to do, I think,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible as he fumbled through the contents.

Donna let out a soft giggle. “Right.”

Diego grabbed a worn circuit board, staring at it without really seeing it. Her words replayed in his mind on an endless loop. She thinks my eyes are cute?

He kept his head down for the rest of the day—not to avoid her gaze, but to hide the small, flustered smile he couldn’t shake.