Astra’s sneakers stomped on the mistreated pavement as he walked, the sound echoing through the cold, desolate streets. The city around him was an empty beehive compared to what it once was. A once thriving metropolis reduced to a weathered out and blown up graveyard. Gutted buildings loomed like long dead giants against the sullen sky, their dusty shattered windows staring down at him like the empty eyes of fallen gods of an old world. Loose cement chunks and pieces of metal that had fallen from the nearby buildings, cigarette butts, and broken glass lined the street as if they were also waiting for an opportunity to turn their lives around. His breath fogged in the crisp air as he stopped to glance at his reflection in a jagged shard of glass on the ground. To him, he still just looked like a lost teenage boy with black curly hair and an empty look in his eyes.

  It was his birthday, which meant he was free from the clutches of the foster care system. This was the sixth time he had run away from his foster home. It wasn’t like anyone would miss him when he ran anyway, so Astra didn’t care what that family did after he was out of the house. There were too many times when Astra had woken up on his birthday with no birthday cheer or wishes, just his foster dad gambling with his birthday money and his foster mom nagging away when his foster dad lost it all. Despite all this, every time he ran away, the system would inevitably find him and send him to another foster home each progressively worse than the previous. Astra was just fed up with his home life so he chose to roam the city. However, just like Astra, everything in the city gave off the feel that they were just forgotten remnants of a war that had left nothing untouched. Astra hid his hands deep into the pockets of his worn-out jacket, trying to get this nagging feeling of misery that permeated his bones off of him.

  Eighteen. Free. Alone…

  The thought tasted bitter. The day he’d waited for his whole life had finally arrived, but it felt hollow. The air was coated with the scent of the smog from the chemical plant on the edge of the city, and the few people that he passed moved with hollow-eyed weariness. Looking around the usual street corners and back alleyway, Astra could see all the street regulars. He drifted past drug addicts chasing their next escape, beggars who told every sad story under the sun for money to hang out with the drug addicts, and the religious zealots warning everyone they needed to repent, screaming about the dead gods and the end of the world.

  Astra chose not to associate with any of those people because despite everything, Astra was afflicted with the curse known as eternal optimism. He saw the negative side of life but refused to let it break his foundation of belief that one day he was going to be someone with a purpose, someone who was needed in the world. First and foremost, Astra wanted freedom, but what he saw all around the city wasn’t what he pictured freedom as. The word “free” should have meant something to him, but here, in this broken city, it felt like just another lie.

  There is no way this is all that I will ever amount to, he thought as he passed more street regulars. Astra remembered counting down the days until his eighteenth birthday, but now that it was finally here, he just felt apathy with a hint of bitterness because it wasn’t like life would be any different now.

  He glanced again at the crumpled piece of paper in his hand, the address of yet another temporary shelter. It promised a bed and some warmth, but the idea of staying there—of settling into yet another place that wasn’t home—made his skin crawl. So he kept walking, wandering through the ruined city with no destination in mind. So long as he hadn’t settled in some place yet, he hadn’t resigned to that empty feeling.

  Around him, the city roused itself up, slowly but surely. Shopkeepers pulled up metal shutters on shops that had little left to sell, buses rumbled to life, and early commuters shuffled forward with the same dead-eyed monotony Astra had seen all his life.

  Astra ducked around a corner when he spotted three policemen walking his way. He overheard one of them saying, “Did you see the annual blood moon last night?”

  He never liked the police. It wasn’t because he was some kind of delinquent, but between the running away from home and skipping school, he hated seeing them fake arrest him just to send him home.

  After walking for awhile, he realized he had walked right up to the skeletal remains of the library he used to visit. It was the last safe place that he loved. Its shelves of comics and stories had offered him an escape from a life that rarely gave him one. Skipping school just to read more books—namely comic books—became his favorite daily activity. He always thought the books taught him more about life than school did. But, sadly, the library was no longer there. Courtesy of the war, the old library was destroyed from a stray artillery round in the last terror attack. It devastated Astra to see the old building get demolished in such a way. The irony of the situation was not lost to Astra. The first things destroyed in the name of war were always places of knowledge and safety.

  Astra continued to stroll through the city to waste time. Eventually, he got hungry, but he already knew he had little to no money on him. Even if inflation hadn’t skyrocketed due to shortages, he had no way of saving his money when his foster parents searched his room for every bit of money he could scrounge up. He dug into his pants pocket and pulled out some pocket lint and a couple of coins.

  Worthless, Astra thought.

  He continued on, daydreaming of a nice, calm place somewhere far, far away from this mess of a life.

  If only we could live off of dreams. What I wouldn’t give to just find out that I’m some kind of long, lost prince from a foreign country or a superhero from the comic books. His thoughts drowned out all the busy noise of the city as he continued to physically and figuratively walk away from his old life. He just wanted to forget his tired memories of houses that had never felt like home and faces that had always been temporary and distant.

  Just then, something broke his autopilot. He saw it, a spooky whirl of movement out of the corner of his peripheral vision. He turned just in the nick of time to catch a glimpse of a sleek, black cat darting across the street. In the cat’s mouth laid something shiny—something that gave off a twinkle that made Astra think of riches, and his heart skipped a beat.

  Curiosity flared in his chest, hot and undeniable. Astra thought, I got some time to waste. Why not? He turned off his brain and chased after the cat.

  “Hey! Wait up!”

  The cat didn’t stop. It slipped through narrow alleys, leaped over broken railings, and vanished around corners with a grace that mocked Astra’s frantic pursuit. Astra chased the cat like it owed him money. The city blurred around him as he followed the creature, his breath coming in sharp bursts. He hardly noticed when the grimy concrete gave way to the crunch of dry leaves beneath his sneakers. Astra lost all sense of time and directions. Astra hesitated for only a moment before going farther in the forest after the cat, driven by a primal urge to see this game to an end.

  The trees started to get taller and thicker the farther he went. They started to cover more and more light till Astra felt like he was in a fairy tale forest. The farther Astra went the more oppressive and thick the atmosphere became. The air was laced with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. He continued on, his eyes locked on the infuriating, wagging black tail ahead of him.

  Finally, after losing himself in the chase for what felt like hours, Astra found himself in a small clearing. In the center of the clearing was a cabin—if that dilapidated slab could even be called that. It was clear the structure was ancient; its wooden wall was worn down by time with moss and weeds growing out of the cracks between the planks. There seemed to be a faint pattern on the bottom of the cabin. The windows were dark and dusty giving no hint to what could lay inside.

  The cat vanished as if its existence was questionable to begin with, leaving Astra alone in the eerie silence of the forest.

  With his wits back with him, he realized the sky above him had deepened into the rich blue and purple tones of twilight.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  How long have I been running around trying to catch that stupid cat, and where did it disappear to?

  Astra swallowed hard. A sense of uneasiness and anxiety settled into the pit of his stomach. The cabin looked as though nobody had shown it any love for years. Yet something about it drew him closer. He felt a strange magnetic pull as if the very air around the cabin was a mermaid and he was a ship captain. He was a naturally curious person anyway. He had always been drawn to mysterious objects and places. A shiver ran down his spine, and his gaze lingered on the cabin’s warped door. As anxious as he was, he just couldn’t resist the urge to see what was inside. He raised his hand to knock.

  The door creaked open as his knuckles made contact. The silence in the room felt like a void that called out to him.

  “Alright, Astra. This is the part in stories where people die,” he muttered under his breath. Swallowing his nerves, he stepped onto the cabin.

  Inside the cabin was a chaotic shrine to forgotten objects. The dimly lit room had only a single overworked candle doing its best to provide enough light. Upon further inspection, the room was cramped and cluttered, filled with old, worn equipment and strange trinkets that seemed to have an interesting story to tell. Half-eaten food lay in what looked like the kitchen.

  Then from the corner of his vision, his eyes immediately recognized the figure of a man sitting in a tattered armchair. The man looked old and ragged with burn marks on his face and strange markings on his arms. The man looked either like he’d seen some battles or he was just an eccentric weirdo. His long, dirty gray hair curled over one of his eyes making him look like someone with too many secrets that it is best not to ask about them. Even his clothing looked strange as if it was patched together like he had survived a hundred battles.

  While Astra gathered his thoughts, the man’s eyes widened in shock as they met Astra’s, his face turning white for a moment. Catching up to his train of thought, Astra stood still in the doorway with every instinct screaming at him to turn and run. However, before he could move, the man’s expression shifted from surprised to something more akin to relief.

  “You…” the man breathed, his voice hoarse and trembling. “You found me.”

  Astra’s heart pounded in his chest. “Well, I-I didn’t mean to… I was just following a cat…”

  The man let out a breathless laugh, the sound bitter and tinged with something Astra couldn’t quite place. “A cat, you say? Of course. Fate works in mysterious ways.”

  “Who are you?” Astra asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “What is this place?”

  The man hesitated for a beat, his eyes scanning Astra as if searching for something, then he nodded to himself, as if there was an internal debate. He glanced around the room with mischief dancing in his eyes until his gaze landed on a pair of old, worn boots near the door. “Bootstrap,” he said suddenly. “You may address me as Bootstrap.”

  Astra blinked twice, the name catching him somewhat off guard. Raising an eyebrow, he asked, “Bootstrap? Really?”

  The man shrugged, his eyes glinting with a mixture of humor and something else Astra couldn’t quite place, maybe optimism. “Why not? It serves its purpose as well as any other. Besides, let’s not pretend I’m the one encroaching here.”

  Right then, Astra’s stomach growled loudly in the silence that followed, and Bootstrap’s gaze softened as he reached into a worn, leather bag beside his chair. He gave off a soft chuckle. He dug in his bag and pulled out a strip of dried jerky handing it to Astra with an amused smile. “Here, kid. You look as though a proper meal hasn’t crossed your path in days.”

  “Here. Don’t keel over on me,” he said, tossing it to Astra.

  Astra caught the jerky with a murmured thanks and a bit of skepticism. His stomach was more hungry than his brain was cautious at this point. He tore into the jerky, the salty, tough meat making his mouth water as Bootstrap watched him with an unreadable expression. Astra was not always starving, but there were many days when he wished the meals he ate made him feel better. Perhaps it was because food was often scarce, or perhaps it was the kind of emptiness that no meal could fill. More often than not, it wasn’t food he craved, it was companionship.

  As Astra ate, Bootstrap settled back into his chair, his gaze never leaving Astra. “You must be tired,” he said after a moment. “But before you rest, there’s a matter I must address. You’re not here by mere chance, you know.”

  Astra looked up, confusion and curiosity warring in his mind. “What do you mean?”

  If this was where I will be murdered, then, oh well, there are fates worse than death out there. Astra debated about all the possibilities where this could turn for the worse, but he just wanted any kind of change.

  Bootstrap leaned forward, his voice low and serious. “There exist realms beyond this one. There are more worlds brimming with magic, peril, and untold adventure. Yet, reaching them is no simple feat. This gem”—he held up a small, cracked gemstone, the same kind Astra had seen in the cat’s mouth—“holds the key to traversing those realms. But as you can see, it’s fractured. Without its missing half, we have no control over where it might cast us. We’d be venturing into the unknown, flying blind.”

  “Flying blind, huh?” Astra whispered, “Die here in this wasteland or have a chance at a real adventure with a possibility of dying?”

  Astra’s heart raced as he listened. The idea of there being other worlds of magic and adventure was almost too enticing to be true. However, it was also everything he had ever wanted. A real chance to be a part of something bigger than his insignificant life so far, something that mattered. Furthermore, it was a chance to say good bye to the war-torn ruins of his world and to find a place where he could truly belong.

  “And the other half of the gem?” Astra asked, his voice filled with anticipation.

  Bootstrap’s gaze darkened, and he clenched the gemstone tightly in his hand. “It’s out there, somewhere. I have a fair notion of where it ought to be, but reaching it will demand far more than mere fortune. The path ahead will test our resolve, our wits, and perhaps even our very limits.”

  “And once you get the other half?” Astra asked.

  “Then consider the world your home. Anywhere and anytime you want will be your home. The freedom to wander, to carve a path through time and space. So, what do you say? Shall we seize this moment, take this chance to embark on a grand adventure? This could be the last chance to do something of this magnitude,” replied Bootstrap.

  Bootstrap leaned closer, his voice laced with quiet amusement as he said, “If you’d rather stay, that’s fine. I just thought I’d offer you a chance, to witness real magic, to leave this wretched place behind. Maybe even find a life worth living beyond the ashes.” Bootstrap acted like he knew Astra’s life. Truthfully, Astra’s life probably wasn’t too hard to guess by the way he looked, acted, and dressed.

  Astra hesitated a bit. Even if it was something he had been looking forward to all his life, he still had to think about it a bit. The prospect of giving up his life and diving headfirst into an unknown magical journey was terrifying, but it was also the first time in his life he felt like he could make a choice on the matter. A chance to do something, to be someone. More than anything, it was the idea of being a part of a world of adventure where no one gets left behind. After a lifetime of feeling like an outsider in everyone else’s home, Astra craved the feeling of belonging more than anything else.

  What was the alternative? Go back to try and find the next shelter to sleep next to a violent drug addict or a gang member looking for trouble? No, thank you. It’s so late in the day. There is no way the office is even open for new applications, Astra found himself thinking. There is nothing left for me in this world. No friends. No family. No life. How much longer am I going to stay in this town before they start to draft me into the war too?

  “I’m in,” he said, his voice showing how resolute he was despite the worry forcing his hands to tremble. “Oh, and one more thing. Are you a wizard? Like blasting fireballs or summoning demons like in the books they have in the libraries?” he added remembering all the fantastical stories he read about in his comic books.

  Bootstrap’s lips curved into a small, weary smile, and for a moment, Astra thought he saw something like pride in the old man’s eyes. “I can’t claim mastery over such feats, but who knows? Perhaps one day, you might. For now, however, we set out at first light,” Bootstrap said. “Get some rest, boy. Tomorrow, we begin.”

  “So, the stories of multiple worlds are real?” Astra asked curiously.“I have read and heard of stories like that at the library, but it has been awhile since the library was destroyed.”

  “Oh, indeed, the stories hold more truth than you might imagine. The last dab I acquired from a rather dubious supplier sent me far beyond the bounds of this world,” Bootstrap said with a teasing smile. Noticing Astra’s expression changed, Bootstrap reassured him, “I am just teasing you. I believe you have seen enough of those people to be able to make a snap judgment about my character. At the very least, I hope I don’t smell like them. As for the gemstone, I assure you, by tomorrow morning, I’ll demonstrate precisely how it operates.”

  Astra nodded, the weight of the decision settling over him like a heavy, yet oddly comforting, weighted blanket. Even as Bootstrap showed him to a small pile of blankets in the corner to sleep in, Astra felt a strange sense of rest and peace. For the first time in his small life, he wasn’t running away from something, he was running toward it.

  So when he finally laid down, exhaustion caught up to him. Astra still couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this journey than Bootstrap was letting on such as why Bootstrap would want someone like him on this important journey. However, that was future Astra’s problem. Present Astra was too tired to deal with this now. As the sleepiness claimed both of their consciousness, the old man returned to his chair by the fire, clutching the cracked gemstone in his hand and went to sleep too. Finally, Astra’s last thought before sleep claimed him was that whatever happened next, there would be no turning back.