This book is for NaNoWriMo, so I will be updating it on a daily basis. This is my first time trying the whole novel in a month thing, so I hope you enjoy taking this adventure with me. It's going to be one heck of a ride.

The world was crying.

Its tears of ash and fire streaked across the sky, cloaking the people in darkness and igniting the land. The ground rumbled, quaking and splitting. Peoples, homes, communities fell through the cracks, engulfed by the raging planet. Streaks of lightning lurched from the looming clouds, setting fire to the foods the people had so painstakingly grown. Within a matter of hours, the world had begun to reduce itself to a pile of ash.

The gods were angry. More than angry, infuriated and bloodthirsty. They sought retribution, and if blood was in the gods' wishes, then blood they would get.

A boy with a reddish mass of curls on top his head tumbled across the quivering ground. He tripped and flopped like a doll against its power, and as ash and fire rained down upon him, his clothes grew singed and tattered. His lungs ached to breathe through the flames and smoke. His body screamed in protest as he trudged on. He couldn't yet fathom the fate that was ensuing upon his community, upon the only home he had ever known, or the toll his journey was taking on his weak body. He only knew that he had to get home, that he had to find her.

He collided to the ground as the earth cracked again, mere meters away from him, and the fires of hell seemed to claw out from the cut in the surface, greedy for human lives. He scrambled on his hands and knees across the brown grass, no longer able to stand, but he could see the stone house now. There was hope. He was close.

His breaths were ragged and harsh as he managed his way down the path; half crawling, half stumbling. The houses around his were either enflamed or empty. The screams in the distance fell deaf upon his ears as he strained to hear the tiny voice imprinted to his memory. He heard no cries, no shouts. It was eerily still against the raging world as he came to his home, and he gripped the door for strength as he pulled himself up right.

"Alana," he screeched, his voice cracked and strained. "Alana!"

He shoved the door open, hobbled into the living area, and desperately searched for the small girl. He found no girl, but he found a jumbled mess of wrecked furniture and splitting walls. He tumbled past the entryway, through what once had been a living room, and into their small kitchen. Blood splattered the floor and shards of broken class cut into his feet and he walked across the wood floor. He yelped and fell back, bruising his back as he collided into the counter.

"Alana!"

No one replied. There was no sound other than his scratchy breathing. His heart jolting, he moved on, into his parents' room, leaving a trail of bloody footprints.

He threw open the closet doors, shoving through dusty holed clothes. No little blonde girl cowered in the corner, no soft voice called out for him, always seeking his protection and always so fearful of the world.

Desperate, he fell to the ground and looked under the bed, finding nothing but cobwebs.  Shouting out in frustration, he lurched onto his burning feet and went into their shared room, his last hope hanging by a thread.

"Alana!"

He casted the blankets off his bed, and then franticly tore hers apart too, finding them empty. He limped to their closet, finding no more than he had in his parents, and then to their rotting dresser. He shoved it back, seeking if she was hiding behind it in the hidden corner she often crept to when they played hide-and-seek. But she wasn't there. A stained stone wall leered at him as he came to realize that his little sister might be lost for good.

"Alana!"

He rushed back through the house. Maybe he'd missed her somewhere. Maybe she had been hiding and had come out upon hearing his voice. Maybe she had left the house and was rushing back as she heard him call out for her. He knew she had to be somewhere. She had to be.

"Alana!"

He stormed through the kitchen, the glass splitting the skin of his bare feet once more. He cursed and lifted up one of his injured feet, but the world tilted as it shook, and he found himself falling back against the wall. He hit his head so hard that black dots clotted his vision. He struggled to breathe as the air felt thick and smothering, and he heard the roar of the flames drawing nearer and nearer.

"Alana!" He shrieked.

The crackling flames grew louder, closer, and he felt the world begin to spin.

"Please, Alana," he croaked, "it's me."

A shuffling caught his attention, a slight whimper, and he rushed towards it. He wasn't aware of the crimson trail he smeared across the floor or the shards of glass that lied embedded in his feet.

Ripping open the cupboards one by one, he froze as he came upon the last one.

"Alana," he breathed. His arms grasped her and crushed her against him. He clutched onto the tiny girl, and he held her steady as she shook and sobbed.

"Alias," she gasped.

"I'm here," he said. "I'm here." He wouldn't sprinkle her with lies that it would be okay, that they were safe. They didn't have that luxury. He had seen with his own eyes what they were up against; the very thing that had happened to their own parents.

He had been with them when the fire had descended upon the square. He had heard the screams of agony, smelled the burning flesh, and watched as people were engulfed in the fire and collapsed to charred remains. He had been standing back, on the edge of the square as his parents had been subjected to the same fate as everyone else, and he was helpless to do anything to stop them as he watched his parents reach out for each other, until they formed one glowing mass of fire, scorching his eyes.

He had sprinted to them, tried to reach them through the mounting flames, but the other burning bodies had forced a barrier between them and him, and over all the screams he could hear their own, "Alana, Alana, Alana..."

He had looked at his parents and back towards the path that would lead him back to their house, and when he glanced back they were gone, indecipherable among the other corpses. He had stifled a sob, rubbed at his eyes, and set off running down the path as he struggled to manage his small assemblage of composure.

"We need to go," he whispered. "Alana, we have to move."

Her reply was muffled against his torn shirt. She clung to him tighter, her fingers digging into his back. He struggled to his feet, carrying her, and almost gave out at her slight weight as his body was barely managing to stand on its own.

"I can't carry you. I need you to walk with me. Can you do that?" He murmured.

She cried into his shirt, dampening it, but managed to pull back. Her wide, round eyes latched on his and his chest tightened as he looked down at his crying little sister covered in dirt. She was resilient, she always had been for her age; a scrapper as their mother had fondly called her. She bobbed her head once, and that was enough for him as he set her down on the ground and grasped her hand.

"Do not let go for any reason," he said.

He carefully maneuvered her through the kitchen, careful to avoid the glass as she trailed behind him. He led them to the front of the house and was forced to stop when he opened the door.

Flames had engulfed the surrounding houses and were quickly creeping up towards them through the vegetation surrounding their house. He wrenched the door shut and dragged her with him to the back, to their rooms that faced the backyard. He yanked the window open and picked her up.

"Wait for me on the other side." He instructed.

She sat on the sill, her glassy eyes meeting his before she jumped out and hit the ground. He grunted as he hefted himself up and over, his body aching with each movement. His head felt light while his body felt heavy. Blinking his eyes to clear the grey from his vision, he raced through what options they had.

He heard a crack and pop and quickly pulled Alana and himself away from the house, shocked as the front had begun to grow drenched in flames. The fog was thick and grey as it rolled up towards the black sky. He began to run with Alana dragging at his heels, down the tumbling hills and towards the forest. He knew past the forest lied another village, one where the same chaos was probably ensuing but it was their only shot, their only chance at survival.

Alana cried out as she tripped and fell, and he stopped to heft her back up and started to run again, or tried to. His legs were weighted like lead, and Alana struggled to keep up with his pace, despite his waning body.

They were both heaving for air, both so close to exhaustion. He stopped out of necessity, keeling over and panting. Alana clutched his leg for support as she struggled too. The smoke seemed to be thickening, despite the distance he was putting behind it and them. A terrible though crossed his mind.

What if the forest was enflamed too?

He looked up at the trees, dim in the distant and hard to see through the gloom. He couldn't see if there was smoke or fire, only the dark shadows of the trees that beckoned them in the distance. It was a risk, a large gamble, but where else did they have to go? To the east and west was nothing, no civilization or hope. Behind them a fire waged that would kill them if they went back, and ahead of them could be just as horrid of an ending. But it was their only chance at surviving the catastrophe. They had no choice.

"Come on," he urged Alana, his hand wrapping around hers and he pulled them ahead once more.

After many falls and dips, the forest became clearer and the smoke became thicker. It tumbled out from somewhere deep inside the woods and he collapsed to his knees in defeat before it, trapped and desperate panicked.

"Why?" He screamed to the sky. "What did we do?"

In response, the ground rumbled once more. The sky shook, and the ground tore. He bowed, and reached out for Alana, holding her to him as they clung to each other for strength. He waited and watched, knowing that this was it. It would either be their salvation or their doom. There was nowhere to go and nothing to do as the gods carried out their wishes.

He felt the heat sear his neck and looked back to see the flames creeping up at them, and as he turned his head he realized they had become boxed in. Alana screamed at the same terrifying truth, and he held onto her as he stood, somehow finding the strength to carry her.

He tumbled back from the flames and jolted to a stop as he came up to the split in the surface. He looked down the gaping crack. The flicker of red flames reached out from the bottom, and darkness met them in between him and it. Jagged edges of rock and earth cut out along the edges. He gripped Alana harder as he shielded her from the view.

She had buried her face in his shoulder, shaking and sobbing against him.

He trembled with her and looked back at the fire coming closer, pushing him towards the only place to go, one that he refused to face.

As he stared back down at the depths of hell, he found himself entranced. Something dark swirled around him and Alana, whispering in his ears.

Come join us, Alias. We want you here.

"No," he gasped. "No!"

Join us, join us, join us, it began to chant, beckoning him closer.

He was helpless as it seeped through him, strangling his will and drawing him in. The fire scorched his flesh as it came dangerously close and Alana was screaming somewhere in the distance. His feet moved on their own account. One step closer. Another.

He gaped down at the pit, Alana clasped in his arms, terror igniting through every part of his being. He tried to scream, to kick, to run, to fight, but he did none of these things.

He jumped.