Isaac brought his hand away from his face and looked up. The tornado had gone. The sky was clear, still close to sundown, but no clouds covered the sky any longer. He stood in a clearing amidst an insane amount of rubble, garbage and a staggering variety of items. The place looked like a sort of scrapyard for discarded construction materials.

He was surrounded by several people, one young looking girl and the rest men. The men were clad in rough cloth with leather reinforcement and they looked as if they had slept in those clothes for weeks. They had a ridiculous amount of knives and scabbards on them, strapped to every limb, belt and loop on their clothing. Most disconcerting though, was the man standing furthest away from Isaac; he had not just two bulging arms, with shoulders larger than Isaac’s head, but an extra set of arms right below his first set. Four arms?

The girl standing across from him inside the circle the men were forming around them also had her own set of oddities. She was clothed in a black cloak, hiding most of her from view. But of what he could see of her arms and face wherever her skin showed, long black feathers sprouted from it. Even from her face she grew feathers. Isaac found it difficult to hold the gaze she leveled at him. He got the distinct impression that she was weighing him.

On some level his plan had succeeded. It dawned on him, however, how little thought he had given to his plans should he actually survive a storm and follow Finn, whatever had happened to him. The things he had just experienced bent his view of reality to the extreme. Instead of admitting what those extra arms meant for his world view, not to mention human skin that could grow feathers, he gathered his surroundings.

Looking around didn’t help though. The whole place looked as if a tornado like the one that had brought him here had come through a couple decades ago and then the cleanup had been continuously postponed ever since. Large sections of buildings appeared to have been just dropped off at random, and dropped from a height at that, as most of them had large cracks running all the way from the foundations to the roofs. Splinters and whole panels were missing where wood and other kinds of building materials had been used.

And there was a lot of it, building materials that is, because it covered the streets and leaned against every wall. Concrete slabs, huge stones, piles of gravel and bricks lay strewn about haphazardly. There was no unifying trend of architecture to bind the buildings still standing together either. One could find anything from victorian era europe to modern 21st century buildings. Where there were road signs or shopfronts you’d be hard pressed to find more than one out of ten you could read or make any sense of. Odd combinations of items covered the streets and surfaces, roofs and balconies, as if an antiquity shop had decided to shoot their stock up into space as some sort of elaborate practical joke only for it to fall short and rain down over an unsuspecting scrapyard instead.

Tribal spears lay resting up against grandfather clocks with astronaut helmets for hats. Half of a train station ticket counter with Korean writing on the signs sat propped up next to a portcullis which must have belonged to some medieval-style castle. There were no signs of where the rest of the castle, or the train station for that matter, had gone off to. Everything seemed out of place. The only cohesive element to the chaos was the general overgrowth of plants and vines that covered everything but a few items or buildings. These undisturbed items usually lay at the top of their respective piles.

“What’s this?” one of the men said. He was squat and scarred. He had no knives like the other men, instead he had a silver key hanging from thick threads wrapped around his right hand. Isaac couldn’t figure out what the key represented, the man treated it with the same importance and reverence one would give a religious symbol. Things were turning stranger every second. He was no beauty either, he looked like someone who had survived an accident with a wood chipper. Even his demeanor seemed chipped and fragmented, as if he’d never quite managed to master social interaction.

“Aster!” he shouted and the girl flinched. She’d been staring at Isaac like he was a puzzle. “Who is this?” the man repeated, but he received no answer. His face grew angry and he held out the silver key as if it was a weapon. It looked like he entered into a battle stance. The pose reminded Isaac of a martial arts exhibition he’d seen once. “No more tricks, Aster, I tell Tejahl.” The man sounded like a heavy metal singer.

Aster scowled back. “How would I know?” she said. “He’s wound up here the same way as everyone else,” she paused to tilt her head, “or are you suggesting I can somehow predict the storms?” she looked at him with revulsion. Her tone sounded rhetorical to Isaac but the man shifted and his stance stiffened like a coiled spring as if that’s exactly what he thought Aster capable off.

Her voice softened. “Ronan,” she looked at him as if he was a child. “Do you really think I would struggle to meet Tejahl’s quota if I could predict even one storm out of a hundred?” Ronan looked uncertain now, not quite as battle hardened. “Do you?” she pressed. His arm lowered a fraction and Aster smiled. “At least think a bit before you open up that trashcan of a mouth you have.” Ronan sneered at her and his arm straightened again. Aster smirked.

A loud roar sounded far off in the distance. Birds scattered from the roofs and towers where it echoed. Isaac closed his mouth as if that could make the roar stop. Aster, who had seemed about to say something, froze along with Ronan and his men. They all stood poised towards the east where the sound carried through the air and fleeing birds.

Isaac’s brow furrowed as he listened. The roar stopped. For a moment not one sound could be heard. The contrast was eerie. He felt his ears tingle as they perked up. Every sound magnified. The wind brushed against his ears as if he was speeding down a hill on a bike. For every breath he could almost feel the fabric of his coat slide across his shirt.

Isaac noticed someone whispering, by that building over there, right behind the wall. No, more than one, several people, whispering, calling out to him. Their voices were too low, a hair’s breadth away from being audible. Isaac craned his neck towards the sounds. He could just about make out a word here or there, but it didn't sound anything like English.

A bird squawked and Isaac jumped. His face reddened. What, I’m scared of birds now? The feathers running along Aster’s skin must’ve unnerved him more than he’d thought. The whispers were gone. What was up with that? This place felt like a dream, or a nightmare. Isaac’s mind raced. How had he heard people whispering behind a wall from all the way over to where he stood? Chills ran up and down his back. Isaac’s intuition screamed at him to run, something was very wrong.

"Aster"